Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nienna
The painting consumed my mind, the idea digging into my brain, sinking its claws into me. I barely noticed when Claus pressed closer, a subtle but telling move.
A frown pulled at me as I searched the hall for what had set him on edge—and my gaze landed on Penelope.
“Your Majesty.” Her greeting fell flat, more declaration than welcome.
“Penelope.” I narrowed my eyes and waited for her to bow.
Her lips curved in a condescending smile instead, head tipping a fraction. “I wonder if I might speak with you for a moment?”
Unease slithered through me, warning bells clanging in my skull.
I needed to be cautious with her. Kallias already anticipated she’d be a problem, and the red rings beneath her bloodshot eyes confirmed it.
Grief clung to her. I hadn’t known her long enough to tell whether she shared Verad’s ideals or had simply loved him without question.
Either way, she was hurting. And therefore—dangerous.
I didn’t have the patience to test her loyalty or offer comfort when she’d been bound so closely to someone who tried to unseat Kallias and steal our kingdom.
“Radaan is at war.” My fingers flexed against my dress as I turned to face her, tension threading through my spine while I lifted my chin. “As your queen, I have little time to spare.”
It was a power play. I knew it. Still, I waited for her move. Would she apologize and offer a proper bow, or retreat like a shark sensing shallow water?
Calculation crossed her face. Then she spread her skirts and sank into a deep curtsy. “Of course, Your Majesty. Please forgive my forwardness.”
“Come,” I said, accepting her apology. “You may walk with me for a moment.”
I would hear her, at least.
“Thank you, my queen.” She hurried to my side, keeping a respectful distance as we moved down the hall. “I only wished to compliment your dragons. They are such fearsome creatures.”
“All the better for dealing punishment to traitors.” A tight smile touched my mouth. “I saw your painting. You captured Dyre’s calm composure quite well. The flowers were a peaceful touch.”
“They aren’t native to this land,” she said. “They grow in the foothills, along the lower ravines. It isn’t proper to place them on a plain when they thrive in frigid shadow, but I wanted to bring a piece of my homeland to them.”
“A rider will be stationed in Gog once Radaan settles,” I told her. “You won’t have to wait long before one stands among your beautiful flowers.”
“Yes.” Her response fell flat. Cold. A reminder that she was still unraveling.
Perhaps I’d been cruel, telling her dragons would reside in her home, but Gog required watching, and consequences followed betrayal.
Her lips formed a smile that never reached her tear-ridden eyes. “I’m quite eager to continue painting them. May I ask which dragon will be bound for Gog?”
I chose my words with care as I turned down another hall. “We haven’t settled on it yet.”
I’d planned to visit the heirs, but something tugged at me, a quiet warning not to bring her anywhere near them. I didn’t trust her. Her ties to her betrothed ensured that, and guilt still twisted in my chest knowing she might never have chosen it. Choice or not, consequences waited all the same.
“I understand,” she said as I slowed to a halt. “The green is beautiful, and his scales shine like the leaves of the Ele’for tree. My mother favors that shade. She would be enamored with him.”
Was she nudging me toward placing our smallest beast in Gog? A district that had already revealed its true nature?
“There’s more than color to consider when assigning a dragon and rider,” I replied, cool and clipped.
“Of course.” She dipped into a shallow curtsy. “Shall we paint again tomorrow? Their anatomy is so unique. I would welcome more time to study it.”
No. Something threaded beneath that request. My pulse jumped, thoughts scrambling as I tried to grasp what my instincts circled.
“A servant will deliver tomorrow’s agenda,” I said, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I must be on my way.”
“Thank you for speaking with me. I hope we can mend what our menfolk have damaged.”
“Verad’gog rose against the Chosen of the Gods.
” My words snapped, sharp and unforgiving, my hand curling at my side.
“Your sovereign returned to find that you allowed a snake to reach for his throne, and you stood by while it happened. The King of the Plentiful Plains damaged nothing. We are repairing the land scarred by your destruction.”
Any trace of compassion bled out of me, each sentence fueled by restrained fury.
“Mind your words, Penelope. Or you will have no home left to return to.”
Color drained from her face, leaving her pale and shaken.
She dropped into a deep curtsy, skirts whispering against the floor.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I spoke out of turn. It won’t happen again.
” She turned to retreat, then caught herself, stiffening.
She couldn’t depart without dismissal. Not after offending me.
I had no desire to prolong it. “Leave.”
Her dress swished down the corridor as she hurried away, fingers knotted in the silken folds.
My jaw tightened as I watched her go. The children would have to wait. Claus fell into step behind me as I changed direction, navigating the Golden Palace’s winding halls. Doubt followed close, the persistent sense that every turn led the wrong way.
Relief washed through me when I found the small kitchen tucked into the wall, the one Kallias favored.
The room was modest. A single stove dominated the space, spice racks crowded the walls; and fresh herbs dangled overhead. Glass jars lined the shelves, and the only seating consisted of two barrels shoved into a corner.
The cook hummed to himself, dark hair cropped close enough that his scalp showed through. Unbleached linen covered him, a patchwork apron hanging loose over simple clothes. He wasn’t meant for display. He worked in the quiet margins, providing for his king.
“Could you make kahve?”
The ladle flew from his hand as he startled, spinning toward me. One palm slapped the stove before he yanked it back with a sharp hiss. “Your Majesty!”
I pressed my lips together, amusement threatening to surface. The urge to reach out and assure him I meant no harm tugged at me, but I held it in check.
He dipped into a quick bow, then snatched the ladle from the floor and clutched it to his chest. Dark eyes flicked past me, catching on Claus, then returned. “Kahve?”
“Yes. For your king,” I clarified.
“Ah, but of course!” He turned at once, shuffling pots along the stove, then grabbed a canister from the shelf. “Where would you like me to send it, my queen?”
“I’ll bring it to him.” I stepped closer as he opened the jar.
“You… It will take a few moments.” He glanced sideways at me while measuring spoonfuls into a small pot of water.
“Those are kahve beans?” I asked, squinting at the dark granules.
“Ground, Your Majesty.” He lifted the jar to show me a spoonful, then dropped it back inside and sealed it. “The beans are roasted and ground into a powder.”
My hands clasped together as he returned the canister to the shelf. “Like tea.”
“Not quite.” He hesitated, expression knotting as he considered it. “Well, I wouldn’t say it is… though perhaps it could be called as such, since some teas are brewed from seeds.”
“Bean tea.” The words left me with a growing grin.
“I–” He raised a hand, head tilting as if searching for why that wasn’t right. “Kahve is different.”
“How so?”
He stirred the small pot, lips pressed thin. A sharp, acrid scent filled the room, layered with deep, earthy notes that drowned out the herbs overhead.
“They’re roasted,” he blurted at last. “The fruit is roasted, not dried. Teas aren’t cooked before dehydration.”
Laughter slipped free. “Even so, I still think it’s more like tea.”
Surprise lifted his cheeks into a smile. He pulled the pot from the flame and let it rest, easing the boil.
“This gallery serves the royal house directly, Your Majesty. If you ever wish for food or drink from Draconia, all you need do is ask.” His gaze lingered on the darkened liquid.
“The main kitchen oversees meals, of course, but if you crave rider’s tea or pickled herring, I am more than happy to oblige. ”
“Traveler’s tea?” Surprise sparked through me. “The salted peppermint?”
His eyes brightened with his smile. “The very same. I’ve the recipe straight from the Draconis kitchens.”
“Tonight, before I retire.” A grin curved my mouth. “I would love a cup.”
“Then it shall be done!” He bustled around the room, grabbing a simple mug and a square of cheesecloth. He paused, frowning at the vessel. “Would you prefer earthenware, or something more proper?”
“What you have is perfect.” Warmth settled in my chest at the thoughtfulness. Kallias favored mugs for his cider and kahve, though when he entertained guests, finery mattered more. Power demanded display, not comfort.
He held the cheesecloth over the mug and poured the dark liquid through it. The fine weave trapped the spent grounds, and when he lifted it away and passed the cup to me, the scent and color matched Kallias’ favored beverage.
So unlike the bean tea I’d brewed for him in Draconia.
“Thank you,” I called as I left, slipping back into the winding corridors.
Drink in hand, I smiled when I spotted Greaves stationed before a closed door. If I ever questioned where to find my husband, his presence always provided the answer.
“Good day,” I greeted as I approached.
His gaze skimmed Claus, my dress, then settled on the cup. “My queen.”
“He’s alone?”
“At present.”
I stepped forward to open the door, but he held out his hand for the drink.
With a resigned sigh, I surrendered it. He studied the dark ripples, sniffed once, then took a sip.
His eyes stayed on me over the rim as he rolled the scalding liquid across his tongue.
After a curt nod, the cup returned to my waiting hands.