Chapter Nine
Kallias
Lust was addictive. Passion and love were her sisters. None were inherently wrong. Yet I never failed to put myself into situations that tested my limits.
My sword clanged against Greaves’, the sound ringing sharp as sweat slid down my temple. He grunted at the impact, rolled beneath the strike, and swung for my weak shoulder. I pivoted, sparing the aching limb, and deflected.
This was my own doing.
When we spent the day in Mon, I visited the temple of Elohios. The stone halls felt right. Welcoming. Secure. There, I prayed and made a foolish vow.
I would not take my wife until I retook my capital. Radaan would see us wed beneath the blessing of our gods.
The oath bound me, and I dared not risk Elohios’ favor for a single night of heat and want.
Nienna had always marveled at my god’s light, calling it magic. I summoned none of it—I only asked. I prayed, and the divine either answered or turned away. Their will alone decided. Through blessing and guidance, we built Radaan on structure and tradition.
The same structure Tallon defiled.
Greaves’ blade slipped past my guard. I leapt back, smacking it aside a breath too late. Groans of disapproval rippled outward.
Our clash of swords had drawn a small crowd.
Veterans stood beside boys who’d never seen war.
They watched me spar away my burning lust into something sharper.
Blow after blow, Greaves and I danced in a dangerous battle.
Each step tested restraint and resolve. The precision comforted me in its own way.
Familiarity marked our only weakness. He knew my shoulder pained me. Some days he pressed the advantage. Others, he granted mercy and eased away.
He retreated a fraction, sleeve dragging across his brow. I surged forward, my weapon slipping past his guard toward his throat. He bared his teeth, twisted aside, and drove into me. My chest slammed into his. My blade rested against his neck.
The flat of his sword tapped my ribs.
Snorting, I backed away, wiped sweat from my brow, and shoved damp hair off my face.
Approval drifted through the night in low grunts and murmured respect. I scanned the circle.
“Where did you learn to fight like that, Your Majesty?”
“War, son.” I sheathed my blade. “A swordmaster can teach you form. Those trying to kill you teach you far more.”
The lad stood tall as a sapling, thin as a twig, dark hair flopping into his eyes. A boyish, lopsided grin clung to his lips. He belonged behind a plow or at a sawmill, sweat earned by honest work to feed a family. Instead, he marched to face his own countrymen for my sake.
“I never thought I’d see you this close,” he said, breathless. “Let alone fighting. Could you teach me something?”
“He’s the king,” a thick-armed older man scoffed.
I frowned. Nothing mattered more than the next generation. The boy romanticized battle. That fantasy needed breaking.
“I will grant you one lesson.” I jerked my head. Greaves followed my cue and tossed him his sword.
He caught it with jerky eagerness and stepped into the ring, swaggering. A faint hitch marked his right ankle. Barely there, but real. His gaze skittered across the bystanders, giddy at being chosen.
My mind cataloged his weaknesses without effort. Years of bloodshed made the study instinctive.
“You’ve fought?” I asked, drawing my blade again. Elohios, guide my words. Let me show them truth.
“Sparred with the men, Your Majesty. Never formally trained.” He flipped the sword and caught it, fingers fumbling on the hilt.
“Brace yourself.”
I struck.
I slowed my swing enough for him to raise a block. Steel met steel. I leaned into it, testing his strength. His parry shuddered within two blows. I pressed harder, crowding his space.
“Learn to fight,” I growled, driving him back a step. “Carry your sword.” I shoved him aside and tapped his collarbone. “But those muscles belong in the fields.”
His blade sagged. Breath tore from his chest, already spent.
“We fight to protect what is ours.” I lifted my voice, meeting guarded faces around the ring. “When enemies attack, we raise shields. When traitors rise, we draw steel. That is necessity, not destiny.”
Their silence thickened the air.
“The next generation will farm this land,” I continued. “They shall know peace because of our battles.”
I turned back to the boy. “War is brutal. While it’s necessary, it is never something to crave. We march to confront a traitor claiming kingship. If blades cross, someone dies. Who will it be? A friend? Loved one?”
A breeze swept through the clearing, cool against my skin, a quiet benediction.
“You might leave another family without a father, without a man to support them.” My words softened. “Pray, men.”
Grief stirred deep in my chest for every life I’d taken, even those of the Velli. I had seen their bodies. They looked like us. They had families as we did. Their cruelty and brutality made them monsters, but if we lost our compassion, we would be no better.
“Pray to your gods,” I said, voice steady, “that we will not have to slaughter our own kindred.”
The days passed, and my body reminded me I was no longer young. Nienna paid for the brutal pace as well, though there was a greater chance I would bond a dragon than ever leave her behind.
Sun glare hammered the plains as we marched. We skirted the outer villages and hamlets. Fallione sent riders ahead to rally support, and the response swelled our ranks.
My people remained loyal, yet their caution fixed on Nienna and her brother. Distrust lingered in the glares they sent her way, silence thickening wherever she passed. She noticed. Chin high, shoulders squared, defiance gleaming, she refused to yield an inch.
When I crossed the ocean after her, doubt plagued me. Would my men still follow me? Would they see honor, or a king dragged by his desire? A whipped dog chasing a woman.
The days among my soldiers taught me better.
The threat lay with the nobles; those born into generational titles they never earned; cities they ruled without bleeding for. Those were the ones I would have to convince.
Elohios’ blessing still marked me. They would have to honor that—as well as Nienna’s dragons. Yet what a hollow reign it would be, leading those who obeyed out of resentment and spite.
A guttural shriek tore through the air.
Horses spooked, hooves skidding as I hauled back on the reins and searched the clouds. Gyrak banked overhead, his vast black form staining the sky like spilled ink. He was not alone.
A blue-green dragon plunged from above, angled straight toward us.
“You’re jesting,” I snarled, reaching for Nienna’s bridle. “Dismount.”
Surprise curved her mouth as she swung down. White fabric streamed over the saddle just as the mare balked. I would not have her mounted on an untested horse while facing a dragon beholden to no one.
Someone took her reins, and I focused on staying seated as Greaves edged closer, his mount snorting and dancing beneath him.
I ignored his frown as the beast struck the earth.
Soil exploded outward, and the ground quaked. Gold flecked her scales like scattered specks of dust, brazen horns taller than I stood flashing in the sun. Flared nostrils dragged in air as slitted pupils fixed on me.
I swallowed a curse and dismounted as she stepped forward. Horses reared, screams cutting through the chaos.
Nienna turned, hand outstretched, drawing me to her. I passed off my reins and joined her. Her fingers cinched tight around my gauntlet as we advanced.
Tsunami dipped her head low, pupils narrowing on me.
“Why is she here?” I muttered. Dragons did not cross the sea without compulsion. The water marked a boundary they avoided.
“I don’t know.” Nienna lifted a hand, and the dragon’s gaze shifted, a rumbling purr rolling from her chest. “She might’ve followed the fleet.”
Gyrak landed behind her, and she snapped her head skyward, spinning on him.
I lunged, shielding my queen with my armored arms as the green tail sliced through the air a handspan above us. My jaw clenched. A riderless dragon in my kingdom spelled danger. She was careless—a menace. My people needed to respect these beasts, not view them as overgrown barn cats.
Nienna shoved my arm aside and pressed my hand to her chest. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she came for you, Kallias.”
Ronan slid down Gyrak’s leg and jogged toward us as her words settled.
“Did she follow the others?” she asked her brother.
The Draconis prince shook his head, flight goggles pushed into his wild blond hair. “The rest are still behind, recovering from the storm. Look at her wings.” He pointed to the trembling tips dragging against the ground. “She flew through it.”
“No dragon in its right mind would do that,” Nienna murmured.
Ronan faced me, arms crossing. “You’re certain you didn’t bond her?”
His accusation chafed. As if my burdens were not sufficient, he implied I somehow forced this creature to bond with someone lacking Draconis blood.
“I have no knowledge of such a joining, Prince,” I snapped. If he wanted to sling accusations loud enough for my men to hear, they would also witness me put him in his place. “There was no agreement permitting an unbonded dragon to land on Radaan soil.”
“You wouldn’t recognize a bond if it slapped you across–”
“We do not decide where the beasts go.” Nienna’s voice cut through chuffing breaths and foolish pride. “They answer to none other than themselves. Still, she may follow Gyrak’s lead and aid us.” She turned to me, confusion masked behind a tight smile. “Two dragons are better than one.”
“Not if she cannot be contained.” I kept my words for her alone.
I didn’t need her raiding farms or causing chaos among villages, frightening the people. Worse, I couldn’t spare the resources from the incoming fleet to keep her under control. I needed all of them.