Chapter Six #2
Ronan stood guard while I fumbled in the darkness, hoping I didn’t soil my clothes too much.
Patience frayed, I hurried back out. Claus leaned against the corner of the hut, his oiled hood pulled low. I felt his attention linger, heavy and deliberate. Unease crawled up my spine, raising the hairs on my nape.
“I don’t trust him,” Ronan murmured. “What kind of loyalist attacks the man he believes to be his king?”
“Who attacked whom again?” I asked, flashing a brief smile at the Thresher as I veered toward the dark mound of scales resting on the plain.
“I’m serious.”
“And I’ll remind you,” I said, sniffing, “you’re a terrible judge of character. You tried to convince me Tallon wasn’t a vile wretch. If Kallias trusts him, so do I.”
“Tallon was just… immature,” Ronan argued.
Gyrak lifted his head as I neared, releasing a soft chuff of greeting.
“That immature boy staged a coup.” My hand slid over the softer scales near Gyrak’s lips. He clicked deep in his throat, yellow eyes flashing.
“Well, his father was a poor judge of character,” he muttered, “leaving him here alone.”
I bit down on my reply. What else was Kallias meant to do? Call for me? Send word to my father? Any attempt to reach me would have sent our dragons racing for Radaan.
He had done the only thing possible, and still he walked straight into a trap. No road existed except the one ahead. Onward. That was all that remained.
“You’ll be going to the Dragon Ship today.” I shifted the subject, wiping a smear of dirt from Gyrak’s muzzle. “I’ll make a list for you.”
“And leave you here without me or Gyrak?” He laughed, sharp and bitter. “Storming eels, have you lost your mind? You’re coming with me.”
My teeth ground together as I frowned up at the dragon. “My place is here now.”
“You know,” he said, snorting as he turned on his heel, “I think your new husband will agree with me on this.”
With a sigh, I hiked my skirts and followed, the Thresher tracking my steps in silence.
“Good morn, Claus,” I called, making it clear I saw him and did not fear him.
It was more for my benefit than his.
Gyrak released a low grumble at my back, reassurance vibrating through my bones. Claus offered no reply, only a brief dip of his head.
Annoyed that I could not draw even a greeting from him, I pushed into the hut and nearly collided with Greaves. His attention snapped toward me before he stepped aside, clearing the path to the table where Kallias and Fallione sat, Ronan looming over them.
“She can speak for herself.” Kallias’ tone allowed no challenge. The voice of a king finished indulging a child.
One look at Fallione as he rose and pulled out a chair told me everything I needed to know.
Logic over heart.
Queens did not rule by passion. I wanted to remain here, to wait for my husband’s return, but reason demanded that the ship made more sense.
After thanking the advisor, I took my seat, then faced Kallias’ guarded expression. “I’ll fly back with Ronan.”
He studied me, his expression unreadable. “As you wish.”
Was that not the right choice? Doubt wormed its way in, and I cursed the room crowded with witnesses.
“Dragons above know the prince is liable to forget something,” I mused, unable to resist the jab at my brother.
“I’ll need my armor and spear,” Kallias said at last.
“We should retrieve light-colored steeds for you and the queen,” Fallione suggested. “Claus, perhaps you could guide us?”
“And a black,” Kallias added, jerking his chin toward Greaves. Always his shadow. Always there to protect.
The Thresher swept his hood back. “It will be done.”
I remained while they discussed tactics and contingencies, Raul pressing a bowl of sweet porridge into my hands. Kallias avoided the offering with the excuse that he would feed himself inside the city.
“You must eat, Your Majesty,” the man insisted, placing the spoon against my palm.
“My thanks.”
The simple meal surprised me. Warm oats sweetened with honey, cream drizzled over the surface. It still astonished me how deft Raul and Cain were with fire, cooking, and daily labor, having been blind since birth.
Radaanians endured, adapted, persevered, and I would be proud to be their queen.
When Fallione announced my marriage to Kallias and named me Queen of Radaan, disbelief had flickered across Cain’s face.
Raul accepted it at once, offering his hospitality with no hesitation or reluctance.
Kindness, fear, or the presence of a fire-breathing beast may have guided him.
Either way, I was grateful for food and shelter.
The flight back to the ship passed without incident, mercifully smoother than my last journey on Ronan’s dragon.
Upon landing, Draconis closed in around us.
I spotted Edith at once. “I need my mantle.” The words left me as my boots struck the deck.
“Bring me the armor of the King of Radaan and his spear!” Ronan barked orders with the same authority our father once wielded.
“And that of his guard,” I added over my shoulder as Edith hustled me away.
Freya broke from the crowd, clutching her skirts as she ran after us. We burst into the captain’s quarters, Edith moving straight to my mantle.
“What’s happening?” Freya asked. “What do you need?”
I straightened, squared my shoulders, and lifted my chin. “I need to look like a queen returning to uproot a bastard.”