Chapter Fifteen
Nienna
Reem wasn’t even in sight when we pulled to a halt. Thousands of troops barred our way, sharpened pikes angled toward us. Beyond them rose the city’s golden walls, Tallon having shifted his forces forward to form a living buffer before we could reach the outlying villages.
He met us on the plain. No trees, no ridges, nothing to break the land or soften what would become a brutal clash.
Ronan and Gyrak had spent the better part of the evening coaxing Tsunami from the sky, guiding her down into the wide, open fields. Kallias and I retreated behind our ranks, unwilling to risk Tallon taking a shot at us before preparations were complete.
Our tents mirrored the ones stretched across the flaxen sea ahead, but we had no intention of lingering. The moment camp took shape, Kallias sent a runner under a white flag of peace with a missive for the opposing army.
Now we huddled inside our command tent, bent over a detailed map of Reem.
“Sneak in from the north. The northern guard are always lax.” He tapped the parchment, and Claus nodded.
“How many of you are there?” Ronan asked, squinting up at the man.
The Thresher held his gaze a moment, then brushed him off. “Thirteen.”
“Thirteen? Against a palace?” My brother’s face scrunched. “I’ve seen you fight. You’re not that good.”
I kicked him under the table. “Are you volunteering to go with them?” I hissed in warning.
Claus flashed me a perplexed look, no doubt surprised by my defense. They were reserved men, all of them, but beneath the cold exterior, the Threshers were no different from any other man.
“We need him in the skies,” Kallias muttered, eyes never leaving the map, entrenched in his calculations. “Once you breach the wall, move through the courtyard to the queen’s gardens. They’re unstaffed, unless Tallon has claimed them for himself.”
“Then the garden door.” Claus traced the path with a finger, frowning. “Searching the palace will be the issue. How much time will we have, Your Majesty?”
“We’ll draw him out. When he’s exposed, he’s ours.” Kallias barely finished before a voice cut through the tent.
“News, Your Majesties!”
We turned as the runner ducked beneath the flap and passed a rolled paper to Kallias. No seal marked it, only twine. A scout’s report, not Tallon’s reply.
Kallias tossed the string onto the table. His expression darkened as he read the short, scrawled lines.
His eyes lifted to mine. “Have your dragons ever faced weapons?”
I chose each word carefully, watching his reaction. “They’ve never needed to.”
Ronan scoffed. “Nothing withstands dragonfire.”
Kallias ignored him, letting the paper fall. “Tallon intends to keep them at a distance. He’s built ballistas.”
I knew little of such machines. The confusion must have shown because he continued.
“Barbed bolts.” He leaned forward, knuckle tapping his chin before his gaze settled on Fallione. “Light enough to fire skyward. There are two—positioned near the center. Any dragon making a pass would be within range.”
“He means to strip us of our advantage.”
“He knows as little of dragonkind as the Innaki.” I shook my head. “Ronan, an arrow would be no harder to shield than a lightning bolt, would it?”
“Sure—if we see it coming.” He grinned. “If a rider spots the machine, we can jam it long enough for a dragon to destroy it.”
Tallon thought he knew everything. When it came to me and the dragons, he knew nothing at all.
Kallias finally turned to my brother. “And the riders can communicate as you did?”
“Exactly the same.” Ronan nodded. “If you want a man on the ground, have Erwin ride with Nienna. Get him close enough and—storms—he could probably tear the earth open and swallow them whole.”
The tent fell silent. Every gaze fixed on us, expressions varying between surprise and disbelief. Pride stirred in my chest. I might not wield such power, but I ruled the men who did.
“Erwin rides with me,” I said. He respected me—always had. If I could remove the danger from my fleet, I would.
“Then it’s settled.” Kallias pushed the message aside and returned to the map. “Seven dragons draw their attention while the Threshers infiltrate the Golden Palace. I want the heirs secured before I arrive. Panic breeds bloodshed.”
“How much time until the meeting?” Claus asked. “If I slip through, I might contact my brothers—get more information.”
“Hopefully not long.” Fallione drummed his fingers on the table, strands of gray hair falling into his face. “If Tallon has any sense, he won’t let this drag on. To make you stand idle at his gate weakens him before the people.”
“Then I’ll remain here,” Claus said, glare fixed on the map.
“Your task is clear.” Kallias met his gaze. “Find them. Take them to the siege rooms and wait for me there.”
It wasn’t a request. He trusted the Thresher to succeed.
That was the faith of a true king.
The night wore on. Scouts came and went with reports from Tallon’s camp. Gyrak and Tsunami remained grounded, the latter chafing under his restraint.
Maps and lists blurred together, and I fought to stay alert. A queen did not leave the burden of war to her husband alone. Mother would’ve been ashamed. She always matched my father in negotiations, often outstripping him.
Kallias was like her in that way. I took after Father.
By the time Fallione departed, temptation gnawed at me to call my dragons and burn the field rather than review infantry numbers one more time.
Greaves lowered the tent flap and tied it, as if canvas could offer privacy.
“Thank you.” Kallias clasped my hand, his skin rough, his mouth tilting. “You endured longer than I expected.”
I stretched, joints protesting. “If you think I’d let you plan Tallon’s death without me, you’re sorely mistaken, husband.”
Every muscle ached, and my head throbbed like distant drums. Kallias bore the strain better, though shadows carved deep trenches beneath his eyes.
“Your input has been invaluable.”
“I suspect ‘burn them all’ lost its charm by the fourth suggestion.” I stifled a chuckle and pushed to stand.
“Any irritation was directed at your brother.” Kallias brushed my hair from my shoulders, loosening my laces. “By Elohios, he tests me.”
“He lacks tact.” A sigh escaped me. “He will grow into it. Men take much longer to mature.”
“Oh?” He kissed my shoulder, light and fleeting, retreating before I could trap him and convince him for more.
“Yes. That’s why I married you.” I flashed a bright smile. “I refused to wait for anyone to grow up.”
Greaves huffed a quiet, mirthful snort. With his back turned to me, he made a show of studying the canvas.
“Shortcutting life.” Kallias tsked. “Can’t say that’s wise. Perhaps if you married someone younger, you’d hold more influence over them. Older men resist change—too set in their ways.”
My brows lifted, and I stepped free of my dress, letting it pool at my feet. Cool night air kissed my skin as my hands settled at my waistband. “Do you doubt my powers of persuasion?”
His gaze slid down my body. Heat followed. “I never stood a chance.”
“Kal–” Greaves flicked the tent’s thin canvas. A reminder.
Kallias winced and tore his eyes away, shrugging out of his coat. “Reem is within our grasp. Another day at most.”
“I’m not rushing,” I muttered.
It seemed absurd, teasing amid war. Yet I’d seen his grief, his heartache.
His hands wielded his spear against his own people.
Their bodies crumpled from its shaft. There was too much sadness, and if I could ease that weight, offer him the slightest of reprieves—I would.
It fell to me to lighten his load, and that didn’t just mean handling his affairs, but to be there for him—as his friend. And as his wife.
We changed into sleep clothes and settled into our bedrolls. No cot. No luxury. Not like we needed a cot when we had a folding table.
A smile tugged at me as I curled against his chest. He drew the furs over my shoulders, while Greaves remained seated, armored and alert.
“He won’t rest?” I whispered.
“Greaves?”
The older man studied me, expression unreadable, then dimmed the light.
“No.” Kallias traced my cheek, his fingers closing my eyes. “He will watch over us.”
“He never sleeps,” I murmured, tucking closer, and my husband’s hand anchored beneath my knee, holding me in place.
Greaves’ voice carried softly through the dark. “I’ll sleep when you’re safe.”
First light brought Tallon’s reply.
I hovered over Kallias’ shoulder, my stomach tightening as I read the neat, flowing script. Beautiful strokes, elegant and precise, born of a vile soul. The contrast unsettled me.
Father,
I will meet you on the plain at the tenth hour to discuss your surrender.
My hands shook as I leaned back, scanning the rest. Grounds. Conditions. Terms laid out with insulting civility. He truly expected Kallias to capitulate. That monster wrote as if my husband were the criminal, as if Tallon weren’t the traitor hiding behind stolen walls.
My teeth ground together. Anger surged, sharp and hot. A dragon roared somewhere beyond the tents, echoing the fury crawling beneath my skin. I forced it down, quelling my rage. I was a queen. Tallon would not be the first man to prod and provoke me.
With luck, he would share Galdoni’s fate.
“The fleet should arrive before then,” I said, stepping away to wash my face.
We hadn’t even begun preparations, and already my throat tightened. Nerves pressed like fingers around my windpipe, threatening to suffocate me.
This would test me. One wrong word, a single misplaced reaction, and I would shame Kallias before the eyes of his kingdom.
He’d given everything for me. And today, the character of his queen would be measured.
Would his sacrifice prove worthy, or would I reveal myself as a hot-headed girl playing at sovereignty?
“Keep them in the skies, as planned,” he said, dropping the letter onto the table. Weariness edged his voice. “Visible, but beyond ballista range unless they’re needed. You’ll have time to brief Erwin before we leave?”