Chapter Seven #2
Verdis, let them accept me. I prayed in silence, knowing she answered before. As her queen, I would honor her and place my prayers at her feet.
Mon’s riders joined Claus behind us, Baldur leading. We cantered into the streets, Ronan keeping Gyrak poised at our backs. The dragon blocked the road, deterring anyone attempting to escape toward Lon or Reem.
“Close the gates!” Baldur called to the guards as we passed, our pace unbroken, charging through the heart of the city.
Citizens leaned from windows and doorways, every alley filled with curious faces. The rhythmic beat of hoofbeats struck against my chest, each stride echoing behind my ribcage.
A lone cheer broke the tension. I stared ahead, refusing to see who had started it.
That single cry became a spark. Others joined, pounding fists to chests, shouting, “King Kallias! King of the Plentiful Plains!”
Few remained silent, but I noticed them.
The budding generation. Those slightly younger than I, faces dirty and gaunt, with no elders to guide them.
Orphans with no loyalty owed to Kallias.
They were the ones who might follow Tallon, believing he could lead them to a brighter future—unaware he would only bring death.
That monster was incapable of anything good.
It didn’t take long to realize Baldur’mon was taking us in a circuit, ending at his estate in the city’s center. He made a spectacle, letting his people see that we had returned.
Together.
A king and his new queen.
I liked this Baldur.
We arrived in a flurry of activity. After we dismounted and our horses were led away, we climbed the stone steps. The estate rose as a marvel of masonry. I barely glimpsed the peak high above before we ducked into its halls.
“Ready rooms for the king and queen!” Baldur’s voice boomed. His emphasis on my title made it clear I was to receive the same loyalty and respect as Kallias. “Prepare the dining hall! Lock down Mon! Anyone who leaves the city walls will be eaten by the dragon!”
I didn’t correct him.
Servants bustled, dipping into deep bows as we passed. My dress swayed between my legs, boots snapping against the wooden floors. My mantle’s chains jingled and clinked with each step, a reminder of my place.
Baldur held a study door open for us, then moved to shut it. Claus stepped forward, hand raised, eyes searching Kallias’ face for permission.
“You are neither the Kingsguard nor his advisor, Thresher,” Baldur said, voice low. “You arrived with the Black Guard. Perhaps you are better suited to secure them, now that our king has returned, than lingering here.”
Claus ignored him, eyes fixed on my husband—the same single-minded loyalty Lynx, the Thresher assigned to me in Reem, had shown.
“Do as he says.” Kallias dismissed him, lowering his spear to rest on a thick rug.
No shame crossed the Thresher’s face. He bowed and retreated behind the door without hesitation.
Baldur blinked twice, then pushed out a weary sigh. “I’m so glad you’ve returned.”
“Returning to find a nation split in two,” Fallione spat, venom dripping from each word.
“Radaan holds no loyalty to Tallon,” Baldur said, jerking a hand toward me. “Your Majesty.”
“Speak freely, as you would with them,” I assured him. Respect acknowledged, but etiquette would not slow the conversation.
Baldur closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Radaan has been waiting for your return. Things fell apart shortly after your departure.” He sank into the seat behind his desk.
“I am here to set it right,” Kallias said, guard raised. He was tense, not yet relaxed as he was with Fallione or Greaves. This man had earned no familiarity. “Can I trust Mon? Will they march with me?”
Baldur’s head snapped up, astonished. “You plan to take Lon?”
“Reem was my intent.” A note of care slipped into his voice. “Has it fallen?”
“He has Jackie.”
The words landed like a war drum. Silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating. Whoever Jackie was, my husband knew—and it mattered. My palms itched. I wanted to touch my dress, sit, anything to break the unnerving stillness.
“I will get him back,” Kallias murmured, softer now, compassion in his voice.
“Sixteen years,” Baldur said, desperation sharpening each word. Fingers splayed across papers. “I fought alongside you for sixteen years. The Velli War ended right before he turned seventeen. He just missed conscription—and you would throw him into another war?”
Kallias slammed his spear’s hilt into the rug. I stifled a gasp at the clang, abrupt and jarring.
“No, I have not returned to start another war,” he growled.
“I have come home with a Draconis Queen, accomplishing what Tallon failed. With her at my side, I can secure peace—for our generation, and for Jackie. What I don’t know is if Mon accepts her queen, or instead intends to suffer her dragonfire. ”
Fallione stepped forward, weathered face pinched. “Mon is expected to march under the banner of Radaan, delivering justice to the traitors.”
Baldur’s hooded gaze shifted to me. I stayed still, muscles locked, refusing to betray the slightest movement under his scrutiny.
“Many follow Tallon out of fear,” he said carefully. “I refuse to endanger my heir.”
Kallias stiffened, grip tightening on his spear, leather creaking under pressure.
“But I trust Elohios’ Chosen,” Baldur continued. “As do my people. Only Tallon’s Black Guard worries me. The citizens of Mon march with you, my king. If I die, it shall be in the name of saving my son.”
“Your line will not end,” Kallias assured him. “Though mine has been severed.”
The day blurred into motion. Staff from our Dragon Ship were summoned, and plans for marching east around the great bay were laid swiftly.
Men pored over maps and papers, while Lady Beatrice of Mon attempted several times to pull me aside and insist I ‘rest.’ My soft refusals went ignored.
Finally, I had to declare that Draconis queens were not the type to sit idle while their husbands did all the fighting.
I had teeth and claws, and I would find a way to use them for my king.
By the time the sun sank below the horizon, and long after, Gyrak and Ronan continued to watch the eastern road. The Black Guard had been apprehended and bound, awaiting judgment once Reem was secured.
And still, Kallias labored over the maps.
Greaves lounged in a chair nearby, arms crossed over his bandolier of daggers, head tilted against the wall. Eyes closed, yet alert. Every faint movement made his brows twitch, a subtle rhythm of awareness before he relaxed again.
“Kallias, we’ve done all we can,” I whispered, leaning over his shoulder. A map sprawled across the desk, small stones marking our forces.
“All we can,” he echoed under his breath. “Here’s where I worry.” His finger hovered over the gap between Reem and Sol. “I will lose him here.”
My hand moved to the nape of his neck, kneading tension from his muscles. “That is a worry for another day.”
He frowned, attention fixed on the map. “I’ll be in bed shortly.”
With a sigh, I straightened, trailing my touch down his shoulder. Greaves’ eyes opened, his usual glare settling on me, unamused and sharp.
“You’re no help,” I scoffed. The man would stand watch even if Kallias decided to live out his life at a desk, never rising.
I retreated to my rooms across the hall. Part of me still marveled at royal customs: husband and wife, yet sleeping apart. Absurd.
Mother had warned me that most marriages were not for love. The queen served a purpose. Once fulfilled, she was left alone—as if her husband’s attentions might inconvenience her.
My mind drifted instead to Kallias’… attentions. Hardly troublesome, unless I counted the way they sent my imagination spiraling, cheeks heating when decorum demanded composure.
“My queen,” Edith greeted as Claus opened the door.
“I’m ready to retire,” I said, still caught in thoughts of Kallias.
To the people of Radaan, I had one purpose: to produce an heir. To him, I was far more. Our dragons were a boon none else could claim—but would our lack of a child cast a shadow? Would they see it as a curse?
“Will you be sleeping here?” Feyre asked, working the laces on the back of my dress.
The space was modest—just a bed chamber and a washroom that doubled as a dressing area.
“I sleep with Kallias.”
“Then should we ready you in his rooms?” Feyre peered over my shoulder into the mirror. “Walking across the hall in naught but your nightdress? Scandalous!”
“She has a point, Your Majesty.” Edith’s reminder of my title reinforced proper etiquette. “It would be wise to dress in his chambers. Guards and noblemen do not need to see their queen in such a state of undress.”
I shook my head. Kallias needed quiet. I didn’t want my chatty handmaids intruding in his rooms.
“Warn Claus. I’m sure he can close his eyes for a breath while I slip away if it’s too great a scandal.”
Freya snorted, and Edith cleared her throat, patting a stray hair back into place.
I dressed in a silken nightdress, and Edith wrapped me in a thick fur robe.
Golden waves fell over my shoulders, the braided crown released.
In the mirror, I looked less like a queen and more like any noblewoman.
It broke the pretense that I was better than the common folk—but I wouldn’t be kept from Kallias.
Freya nudged the door open, whispering to Claus, “Your queen is about to traverse the halls in a state of undress. Shield your eyes, good sir!”
I stifled a laugh, hugging the furs close.
Bare feet on the cool wooden planks, I followed Freya and, without thinking, nudged Kallias’ door open.
Greaves blocked my view instantly, tall and black as shadow. I blinked up at him. He let out a soft huff, glaring down.
“Greaves,” I mock-whispered. “I am not dressed.”
His irritation flickered into panic as his eyes dropped to the fur cloak. With an uncharacteristic wince, he jerked aside, closing the door behind me.
“It’s Phares,” Kallias called from the desk, exactly where I had left him.
“They will support Tallon regardless of my presence. If I have to battle the north and east—where he’s been gathering forces—we would be split.
I won’t let them divide us. I shall have to choose.
” He leaned back, finger tapping the map without looking up.
“If I know Tallon, he’ll run—and I’ll have no means of knowing where. ”
I gestured at Greaves, jerking my head toward the door.
He crossed his arms, leaning on his heel, turning fully to his king.
Blasted guard. There was only one way to get him to leave without an order.
“Kallias.” I drew out his name, crossing the room to his chair. “I am tired.”
It was the truth, at least. If we wanted to sustain any mental fortitude, we had to rest. Fallione had a role as advisor, likely still awake, but my husband needed sleep.
“I need someone to take Darius’ place. If we rally Neer and Tal, and I have someone leading them, we might divide forces effectively.”
The fur slipped from my shoulders, revealing the thin silk beneath. I cupped my husband’s jaw, stubble pricking my skin as I tilted his head to look at me. Cornflower-blue irises swept across my gown; understanding softened his gaze.
“Tomorrow’s problem,” he agreed, grimacing as he rose to stretch, then he met Greaves’ steady stare. “Get a cot in here. You are not leaving my side until Reem is secure.”
My eyes drifted shut in annoyance as the latch clicked, signaling Greaves’ departure.
Kallias let out a soft chuckle. “It’s safest with him close.”
Logic said to trust one’s guards, keep them within reach—but I missed the Kallias of moments like this, where it was just us. I craved him behind closed doors. Yet I wouldn’t have it until Reem was safe.
Storming eels, Tallon ruined everything.
My husband’s gaze drifted as he reached for the chains of his mantle, but I batted his hands away, drawing his attention back to the present.
“This is my task now.” I smirked. “When the mantle comes off, you are my husband—not the King of Radaan.”
“Do you think a yoke makes me a king?” The corner of his mouth quirked, but a shadow lingered in his gaze—a doubt he did not voice.
As if a yoke could make Tallon worthy.
“Kallias Sunspear, you are chosen of the gods.” I unlatched each chain, letting them drop against his deep green vest embroidered with glittering vines. “I have seen your blessing with my own eyes. Elohios’ light shines through you. No one else could replicate that.”
I lifted the heavy yoke from his shoulders, placing it on the wooden stand, chains adjusted in order.
He was on me as I turned, lips meeting mine in a gentle kiss.
“Just as the mantle does not make you a queen,” he murmured between kisses, hand snaking to the small of my back, pressing me flush against him. “You were born to rule. A golden relic doesn’t dictate that—you do.”
Warmth coursed through me, and I opened to him with a light moan.
Fingers threaded through my hair, tugging me away slightly. His gaze glittered with hunger and fire. “When I retake Reem, I will retake you.”
Gasping in disbelief, I grabbed his vest. “You would make me wait that long?” I demanded.
“Too impatient?” He flashed a wicked smile. The man had changed—teasing, daring, setting an ultimatum. “It shall be a reward.”
“An incentive, then.” I pushed against him.
“The faster you claim your capital, the sooner you can take this.” I perched on the edge of the bed as he loosened his collar, my dress slipping up over my calves, silk cool against my skin.
His grin faltered, staring at the rising fabric as if it might undo him.
The door opened, and I dropped the hem, crossing my arms.
Greaves peeked inside, frown deepening as if he understood our game. With a grunt, he hauled a simple straw mat to my feet, running a hand through his silvering hair, eyes pleading at Kallias.
I smiled, settling under the blankets. Greaves was safe—loyal to my husband, and by extension, to me. If anyone outside my family could be trusted with my life, it was him.
Kallias shed his outer garments, changing into thin linen breeches, sliding into bed and pulling me close.
Greaves arranged his cot, then relocated the chair from the desk to the door before striding to the lone window to study whatever lay outside.
He drew the heavy curtains, then removed his bandolier, followed by an obscene amount of blades tucked into his clothes and armor.
He moved with the same detailed precision as Kallias, taking care as he discarded each weapon.
After he tugged free his tunic’s laces, he grabbed fistfuls of fabric to yank it over his head.
My husband’s strong hands redirected my face back to his. He kissed my forehead, then trailed his fingers over my eyes, urging them to close.
“Sleep, Nienna.”