Chapter 22 #2
“Careful. People might think you’re changing.” Her teeth traced my jaw.
Desire stirred, restless and blooming, impossible to ignore.
“I am,” I said. “I’m Selfish. Demanding, even.”
She laughed, adjusting my mantle’s chains. “You’ve always been demanding. But you are the least selfish man I know.”
A rough sound left me as I leaned my head against the tree, eyes lifting to the branches above.
“I’ve gone soft. I wanted peace for Radaan.
Every choice served that purpose. A kingdom without war.
A future where children held plows and hammers instead of spears.
” My throat tightened. “But now? All I want is this.”
She rested her cheek against my chest. Two blue birds darted through the branches, scolding us before hopping into a nest and glaring down.
“If anyone has earned it, Kallias, it’s you.”
Pain sliced through me. My eyes shut against it, jaw tight. Not physical pain. Dread. I had too much left to do. Too much blood yet to spill before rest would be earned.
It was freeing, in a way, sharing this with someone. Greaves knew. Gods—he understood how badly I craved peace. That truth lived between us, unspoken. A quiet, mutual understanding. But speaking it aloud was different.
We sat there, beneath the willow, pretending we could hide from the world. I could almost imagine a life without palace walls, mantles, or war. No servants whispering in the courtyard, or advisors counting minutes. No pardons or documents waiting for my seal.
My arms circled her. My head rested against bark. Eyes closed. Just… existing. I tried to carve the moment into memory, for the days kingship pressed too hard. Her scent of ocean and water lilies blended with the garden’s blooms. She curled into me, content to let the world continue without us.
But we couldn’t hide forever.
I drew in a deep chestful of air, releasing it slow.
She shifted in my lap, lips brushing my throat, a teasing touch that set my nerves alight.
Her teeth traced my jaw, kisses trailing toward my ear.
My hands slid to the backs of her thighs, gripping.
Her breath caught, a muffled sound against my skin.
She brushed her cheek along mine, then kissed me. Chaste. Brief.
It didn’t stay that way.
This wasn’t the time—or the place. The risk was obvious.
Still, I opened to her. Her tongue slipped in, tentative, and I answered, guiding without taking control. I held myself back, letting her lead, explore.
I wanted to be at her mercy, to surrender to her. Gods, I craved this sensation of being loved, desired, sought after.
Needed.
Her moan was soft, her fingers threading into my hair as the kiss deepened. Her teeth caught my lower lip, a gentle tug that tore a broken sound from me. A curious hand slid down, testing the buckle at my waist.
“Where is King Kallias?”
Nienna bolted upright, palms braced on my chest. I stared into the darkness behind my lids, a calm smile settling on my mouth.
“Where? The tree—oh.” Fallione’s voice rose, and I wondered how much anyone could truly see through the swaying branches.
Too much.
I did not share what was mine.
My hand tangled in Nienna’s hair, pulling her down into a hard kiss, a promise that we’d be revisiting this. Tonight. When I released her, heat flushed her face, lips swollen, pupils dark with want.
“Time’s up, my queen.”
The door to my study opened, but I lingered on the final line of instructions Fallione had left me. A frown pulled at my mouth as I stacked the pages, straightened them, and covered the bundle with blank parchment before lifting my gaze.
Edith stood just inside the threshold, clad in a sturdy gray dress. Draconis’ sharp geometric patterns traced the hem and sleeves. Her hair was coiled into a neat bun, eyes lowered as she bowed.
“Welcome, Edith of Draconia,” I said, nudging the instructions aside.
“Well met, Your Majesty.” Her reply carried a tight note of confusion.
“I trust your travels were smooth?”
She had arrived hours earlier, road-worn and weary. I allowed her time to settle with Freya, waiting until Nienna occupied herself with the heirs before sending for her.
“I regret my absence from my queen,” she said, “but seeing the countryside of Radaan was a pleasure.”
Always proper. Formal to the bone. A true maid, unlike Freya, who served more as a friend than a governess.
“One day I will take Nienna to the districts. Perhaps you may accompany us.”
“If my health permits, as you wish, Your Majesty.” A crease deepened between her brows, lines etched by years of service.
“You know I did not summon you to discuss scenery.”
“You are far too busy for that, my king.”
I inclined my head. “When was Nienna’s last bleed?”
The words struck like a slap. Her expression fell blank before surprise flickered through it. She clasped her hands tight. “I’ve only just arrived.”
“When?” I repeated, sliding a calendar across the desk. “Take your time.”
She wet her lips, fingers twisting as she stepped closer. Her gaze skimmed the parchment before lifting, uneasy. “It’s—well, I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but such matters are shared between women.”
“And as her husband, would I not notice when I bed her?” I pressed.
Men did not ask such questions. Fallione would not know where to begin. Not when Nienna had not bled during our travels.
And if she had, I would already have my answer.
“She bled at Draconia.” Edith’s tone sharpened, cautious. We both understood the implications. Nienna was not careless. There was no question of infidelity.
Still, I needed certainty.
“I will not ask again, Edith.” My voice held steel.
She studied me as if I were a riddle, respect intact but curiosity stirred. That would not do. I didn’t need anyone delving too deep into my reasoning.
Swallowing, she cleared her throat and leaned over the desk. Her finger traced the calendar. “Her cycle ended here.” She pointed to a mark several weeks past. “I cannot say when it began without my ledgers.”
“Her body follows a regular cycle? No irregularities?”
Her breath caught. The question breached decorum. Had I been any man but her king, she would have shut me down.
“No.” Her answer came faint. She squinted at the dates, lips moving as she counted.
I leaned back, scalp prickling. My heart pounded, hope thudding against reason even as my mind rejected it.
“You must understand,” she said, straightening. “Stress alters a woman’s body. Strain, fear, upheaval. Balance shifts. It may be late.”
I had considered that. Two days meant nothing. Too soon to hope. Or to despair.
Yet she was Nienna. Strong. Raised among dragons. The weeks behind us had been strenuous, and while I couldn’t be certain her bleeding wasn’t affected by it, doubt lingered.
“This does not leave this room.” My tone flattened. “You shall not alter your care. No insinuations. No special attention. If she senses you spoke with me, you will answer for it.”
The words cut harsh, but terror fueled them.
“You have my word, Your Majesty,” she said, expression tight. “But if you believe she carries–”
“No.” I rose, bracing my palms on the desk. The warrior who had slain thousands slipped through the cracks. “She won’t know. You will not change her diet or routine. Nothing shifts. Do you understand?”
Her mouth snapped shut; hands folded before her. “Yes, my king.”
I held her gaze until the promise rooted itself.
Color flared along her cheeks as the silence stretched.
“Dismissed.”
She gathered her skirts and stormed out. Greaves entered behind her, frown set as he closed the door.
“She just arrived,” he muttered, taking the chair opposite as I sank back.
My fingers clenched in my hair, tugging hard before dragging down my face.
It was impossible. A foolish hope borne of Veridis. My infertility had always been both a blessing and a curse. No heir meant no babe being dragged into this life.
It was too soon to tell.
A heavy weight crushed my chest. My breath shortened as I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Kal?”
A grunt escaped me as I waved it off, shoving the calendar beneath Fallione’s stack. “It’s nothing.”
“Careful. Elohios might revoke his blessing.”
My gaze snapped to his.
Greaves lifted a brow, shrugging. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“It is nothing,” I bit out. “Look at these.” I shoved a rough blueprint across the desk. A deflection—for both of us.
He took it, unimpressed. He knew my tactics all too well. With a sniff, he settled into his seat, studying the sketches. “You plan to demolish the queen’s chambers?” He turned the page, angling it for a better vantage.
“Nienna has no need for them. It’s wasted space.”
“And when she gets sick of you?”
I glared.
But he smirked. “What of the next generations? Tradition says the king and queen keep separate rooms.”
“I’m breaking that tradition.” Future rulers wouldn’t suffer the previous marriage I did. Separate lives—meeting once a month to copulate. It would not be repeated. “I didn’t give it to you so you could pry into my love life. The security—do you approve?”
“I already know more than I should,” he huffed, then leaned closer. “Sneaking through gardens like a besotted, lovesick fool.”
My jaw tightened, and I drummed my fingers along the desk. Push him further and we would trade words for blows in the sparring ring—and I had no time for that.
“This balcony.” He stood, tapping the plan. “Too close to the oak. Give it years and it becomes a problem.”
I turned the print. “Move it to the bedroom window?”
“And when an assassin breaches it and I have to traverse two rooms?” His tone went flat.
I sighed. “I’ll revise it.”
“Why not refashion your own rooms?”
“She needs a balcony.” I set the plan aside, rubbing my temple as my eyes returned to Fallione’s list.
Greaves straightened with a grunt.
My chambers were functional. Secure. Sleep and bathe. Nothing more. But Nienna needed air, height, light. She deserved to feel as if she hovered, as if she rode a dragon. Sunlight should pour in and set her hair aflame.
I craved to take her in the moonlight’s glow, to have comfortable quiet moments with her in my arms. Privacy—away from the mantle and its burden.
For Nienna, I wanted comfort.
Not practicality.