Chapter Two #2
The answer had already caused friction between Ronan and my husband. I avoided siding with my brother, though I shared his view.
“In the eastern plains,” Kallias said. His jaw shifted as he traced the shoreline with his finger. “It should give us time to test Radaan’s climate.”
“Running like a rabbit,” Ronan muttered under his breath.
He wanted fire and spectacle. We had a dragon. Radaanian foot soldiers, and whatever defense Tallon imagined he could muster, posed no threat. With Gyrak, we could reduce the city to ash in a single day.
“I will not rush into my country blind,” Kallias said, teeth grinding together, still refusing to look at Ronan.
That was the man I knew. Measured. Exacting. One of his dearest friends lay dead, the other’s fate uncertain. He would not gamble Clay’s life on bravado.
“We could anchor at Wellmoor,” Fallione offered, nodding toward a green peg on the map. “Send a skiff in. Learn the mood of the common folk.”
The bay sat too far from Reem for my liking.
“Is there nothing closer?” I asked.
“Anything closer risks announcing our arrival to Tallon before we’re ready.” Kallias’ eye twitched once, hidden behind a measured blink.
“Arrive with Gyrak and you’ll be ready,” Ronan muttered.
“And Wellmoor will give us the information we need?” I asked when my husband’s glare flicked toward my brother.
“My ties to the west are weaker,” Kallias said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve drafted men from those districts for years. They haven’t seen the evils of Vellos. Cutting east brings us too close to their lands, and Tallon has strengthened his bonds there.”
A memory surfaced: the prince riding to the eastern districts, avoiding the call of a mammoth attack. He’d nearly caught us then, detouring north for one reason alone—to find us together.
“If we announce ourselves in the west,” Fallione added, “it gives him a chance to flee over the Craggs.”
Kallias held my gaze, unflinching. Torment churned beneath the surface, full of betrayal and pain.
“You’re letting him escape,” Ronan accused.
Kallias didn’t blink.
His jaw locked tight, nostrils flaring with restraint.
Tallon haunted him. He always would. When someone grew up as blood, when they were called family, punishment never came without pain, no matter the crime.
We never believed the prince would stage a coup. Removal from the line, exile perhaps—but treason carried only one price. Death.
Before this ended, Kallias might be forced to kill the man he once called son.
“We land in Wellmoor,” I said, unwavering in my support.
I wanted Tallon to burn for the pain and suffering he’d forced upon my husband, but I would never add to Kallias’ torment for my own satisfaction.
Ronan huffed his frustration and surged to his feet. The ship groaned as Gyrak shifted above, the dragon’s irritation echoing his own.
“And you call yourself a warrior king,” he scoffed, striding for the stairs.
“He is young,” I said, resting my palm on my husband’s thigh. Muscle tightened beneath the dark linen. “Will the western soldiers rally behind us?”
It was Fallione who answered. “His Majesty, Kallias Sunspear, is their king. I struggle to believe Prince Tallon could sway the entirety of a nation the size of Radaan in such a short time.”
“His hold will be weak at first.” Kallias swallowed and returned his focus to the map. “He’ll keep Reem by force. To claim the kingdom, he needs the noble houses. Willingly or otherwise.”
“Blackmail?”
He shook his head. “I fought beside too many men. Saved too many nobles. That loyalty can’t be bound by lies and trickery.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned forward, elbows braced on the table. “No. Tallon is holding them hostage.”
My stomach clenched, fingers tightening against his leg. “How?”
“That, I don’t know.”
His refusal to arrive in a plume of dragonfire made sense now. If innocents were held, Kallias would allow himself to be caged and chained before letting them die in his name.
“We land.” Fallione traced Wellmoor with his finger. “Gauge loyalty. Learn how Tallon stole a nation. Then decide our next move.”
“And if the people are loyal to us?” I asked.
“Then we send the Threshers ahead,” Kallias said. “They’ll save who they can and hide our arrival. Then we come with your dragons and force Tallon out.”
“And if Radaan is divided?”
“That makes the situation far more… delicate.” Fallione tapped the table, lips pursed. “We would have to gamble. Announce ourselves and risk civil war while losing noble support—or strike Tallon directly and hope enough rally to us in time.”
“We wouldn’t need aid with my dragons.”
“Your dragons would cause more harm than help, Nienna.” Kallias corrected.
My gaze slid to Fallione. He avoided it, reaching for the papers stacked beside him.
I kept my voice measured, every word deliberate. “They’ll encourage allegiance.”
Kallias tensed, shifting his leg from my grasp. His attention dropped to my dress, and the smallest grimace touched his mouth as he rolled his shoulders.
“The dragons are our last resort,” he said. “That is final.”
Heat crept up my neck, the tips of my ears burning at the rebuke delivered in front of Fallione. The line was drawn. No room for argument.
But what use was I as queen if I could not wield my dragons?
Kallias closed his eyes and stood. “I’ll be at the prow if needed.”
Then he was gone, leaving me seated beside an advisor who looked just as uneasy as I felt.