Chapter Eleven
Nienna
Lon burned.
Smoke billowed toward the sky, and though I trusted Ronan to listen and burn only what I told him to, fire had a will of its own.
Those blazes could spread. That danger would keep the men busy and buy us time, which was why Kallias had chosen them to sacrifice.
Still, as ashes and embers braided with the clouds rolling in, a sense of wrongness pressed into my chest.
This was what I wanted—to make the traitors pay. How dare they rise up and deny their true king, only to follow a bastard prince?
Yet when the moment came to deal that death, sickness turned in my gut.
The fight west of Lon was a quick affair. By midday, Kallias’ light faltered and storm clouds crowded the sky as we rode through the wide streets. Guards surged around us, their sole purpose protection as we made for the estate.
Blood coated my husband. His once-shining armor now marred with deep red. He hadn’t looked at me since we entered the city, gaze fixed ahead, prepared to meet whatever waited for him. His spear towered above us, metal still gleaming through the gore.
Smoke filtered through the streets, ash riding the wind. Tsunami’s screams split the air as she flew low overhead, then unleashed another burst of dragonfire.
Kallias’ fist tightened around the spear’s shaft.
The dragons couldn’t be stopped now. Not with me on the ground out of Ronan’s sight. Without a signal, the burning would continue. The dragons would continue on their mission until Ronan took initiative, deeming their purpose fulfilled.
Shouts and screams thickened the air, the wailing of terrified children tightening my throat. Panicked civilians poured from side streets, desperate to flee burning buildings, scrambling for a safe haven.
A woman carrying a baby stumbled to a halt as we passed. Her eyes went wide, fixed on our group. She clutched the bundled child to her chest, her face stripped bare with horror.
Was this what I had urged Kallias toward so recklessly?
My mare stepped over a broken crate, the jolt snapping my focus back to the saddle.
Metal rang out ahead. The clamor of battle folded into the cries of a fallen city, and I knew we were close.
We entered the courtyard of what had once been a fine estate. White marble lay scorched along one side, an outbuilding’s thatched roof belching black smoke that stained the stone. Men of Lon, marked by detailed plate armor, backed toward the massive doors, retreating from us.
Bodies carpeted the ground. Our horses picked their way through with care, hooves skirting limbs and forgotten weapons. I kept my eyes forward as my mare stumbled, a faint wet squelch following as she corrected her footing.
The sprawling estate, once the pride of Radaan, now stood as a monument to righteous rage—to punishment dealt when subjects failed their king.
And those inside would bear the worst of it.
Greaves hit the ground first, sword up, already moving to shield Kallias as he dismounted. Soldiers secured the courtyard while our smaller group advanced through the bodies and up the massive stairs.
Gyrak swept overhead, hovering for a breath as if he meant to land. With a roar of irritation, he pulled away and passed over the estate, affronted by my departure from his sight.
Our men forced the doors open and spilled into the halls. Vases shattered against the floor. Steel rang against steel as bodies slammed into walls, paintings torn loose, crashing down.
A soldier from Lon burst from a side hall. Greaves launched into action. Kallias didn’t so much as flinch as his guard deflected the blow and spun the man into the melee, where hands dragged him away from me.
“Stay close to me, Your Majesty,” Fallione murmured, leaning in while his gaze swept the corridor. His sword gleamed in his grip.
I felt the absence of a blade acutely. Even without knowing how to wield one, the lack left me exposed. Vulnerable.
We left a trail of destruction in our wake as we climbed several flights of stairs. Greaves had no issue kicking men off the staircase, letting them fall amid a shower of splintered wood.
At the highest floor, seven soldiers blocked our path.
“Move,” Greaves snarled, even as Kallias advanced without a word.
“We’re under orders–” The protest died behind a helm.
“In the name of your king, move!” Fallione shouted, edging closer to me.
One soldier hesitated, weapon dipping a fraction. Then they struck. Sword and spear flashed. Gold and black cut through gray steel as our men surged past the advisor and me, joining the clash.
Chaos swallowed the hall. I gathered my skirts, fear skittering along my spine. Where were Gyrak and Tsunami? Was I so weak without my dragons?
As if in answer, an outraged roar thundered through the halls. Dust streamed from the ceiling as the stone beneath our feet shuddered. Men clapped gauntlets to helms, staggering under the force of it.
Kallias seized the moment. He drove his spear through the narrow gap at the last soldier’s throat, then kicked the grand doors open.
We surged inside.
The study sprawled wide, its walls layered with paintings. Busts of noblemen and priceless vases rested on pillars before shelves packed with endless tomes. Dim light filtered through smoke drifting past the windows, Lon still burning beyond the glass.
Before the largest window stood a man.
He held a child.
My heart lurched. Cold fear surged through my veins at the easy smile on his face as the little girl clung to him.
She couldn’t have been more than four, straight brown hair falling against porcelain skin too fine for this brutality.
Her cheeks burned red, tears spilling as she clutched fistfuls of his jacket.
A woman stood to the side, somewhere in her middle years, hands clasped, her face blanched with terror. One glance flicked to the man and child before she lifted her gaze to meet the fury of her king.
“Give the child to her mother, Kai.” Kallias’ voice thundered, raw and furious, leashed tight like one might try to restrain a dragon.
Kai’lon bounced her on his hip, flashing his white teeth. Brown hair clung damply to his brow. “We should keep our children close, should we not, Kallias?” His voice cracked, nerves breaking through.
The girl buried her face in his neck with a whimper.
She must have thought us monsters.
Kallias’ spear dipped, blood pattering onto the white marble. No guards remained to shield the man. A dagger rode at his hip, but it made little difference.
His grip on the child set my hands shaking.
“I will not repeat myself.” Kallias shifted his hold, the shaft turning in his grasp. “Sarai, retrieve your daughter.”
“I can see you safely to your rooms,” I said, stepping forward. Anything to get the girl out of here—away from the bodies choking the halls.
Away from her father.
The woman shook her head, lifting a trembling hand to tuck loose hair behind her ear. “We will stay with Kai’lon, Your Majesties.”
“They’re not worthy of those titles,” Kai spat, glaring at his wife. “A true king wouldn’t abandon his family, his kin, to chase a harlot across the sea.”
I felt it coming. The words still struck hard, hurled at me before witnesses by a man who dragged his child into this carnage. Heat rushed to my cheeks. I raised my chin and edged closer to Sarai.
“Kai’lon, see reason and set the girl down,” Fallione urged. “She has no part in this.”
“She has every part in it.” Kai cradled her head.
“We were at peace. She was drawing in her nursery when the alarm sounded. Our people screamed. Fire rained from that woman’s beasts.
” His gaze cut into me. “It is her future you’re burning, Sunspear.
” He pressed his cheek to her hair, glaring at us with petulant fury.
“Have you come to kill those you claimed to love? Those you swore to protect? I see homes engulfed in flames. Innocents butchered. Well, here’s another.
Will you take her life too? How far you’ve fallen, Chosen of Elohios. ”
“Fallen?” Kallias echoed. “Did you not oversee the men you condemned for treason? Did you hide here as you hide behind Mai? Had you faced me like a man, you would remember why I rule Radaan.” His arm swept toward the window, and I caught the shift in his weight.
Smoke churned past the glass, black clouds rolling thick. Kallias moved with purpose, measuring distance, searching for a way to separate the girl from her unraveling father. Did Ronan know where we were? Could Gyrak break the window and still spare the woman and child?
“You are king because no one dared challenge you!”
“I was challenged by the gods and proven worthy!” The butt of Kallias’ spear cracked against the marble. “Tell me, does Tallon wear the mantle? Which god did he seek? Which god would you trust with the future of your city, the future of your daughter?”
My boots edged closer to the woman. Fallione tracked the movement from the corner of his eye.
“Tallon has already secured peace with Vellos. Something you barely achieved after years of bloodshed!” Kai loosened his hold in his fury as he turned fully toward Kallias, twisting the child aside. “Her future was settled until you came crashing in!”
Please, Gyrak. Distract him. My lips pressed together as the prayer burned silent.
“And how was this peace won?” Kallias demanded.
“What promises were made? Have you forgotten the sacrifices of your men? The greed of the Velli, their raids along the Craggs? We fought them for years. Bargained with them. Now, in a handful of days, Tallon claims victory. At what cost, Kai? What will your children pay for your comfort?”
“You call this comfort!?” His shout sent his daughter into sobs. She clawed at the lapel of his coat as she slipped lower. “You just burned my–”
The window exploded in a burst of fire.
Greaves lunged forward, tearing the girl free. Kai released her with a startled cry, doubling over as he glanced back. Gyrak’s claws ripped into the frame, a single paw forcing entry as wood and stone shattered.
The child flew toward me. I caught her against my chest, shoved her into her mother’s arms, then turned in time to see Kai draw his dagger and charge Kallias.
Everything blurred.
Gold flashed. Blood arced through the air, splashing scarlet across my white dress.
His head fell.
“Papa!”
The sound tore through me. I moved before thought could form, stepping between the girl and the slumping body.
“Papa!” She screamed, again and again, thrashing against her mother’s grip.
Horror hollowed the woman’s face, eyes blown wide, whites stark as her fingers dug into her daughter’s arm.
A tiny finger stabbed toward me as Mai wailed.
I stared at the blood staining my dress, stumbling for balance when Gyrak hurled himself from the building with a defiant roar.
Kallias faced me, his piercing gaze shadowed with fury. My mouth hung open, lungs locked, air refusing to come. His nostrils flared, darkness flickering across his face as he straightened.
He just killed a man in front of his daughter.