Chapter 24 #2
I pushed the door open and closed it softly behind me, leaving both guards in the hall.
Kallias leaned over his desk, fingers kneading his temples. Parchments covered the surface, sorted into neat stacks, each pinned with a different paperweight. He dragged a hand down his face and tapped a scribbled line.
“As far south as Soreli. It’s impossible to know how many there are.”
“The Velli?”
His head snapped up, a lock of silvered hair slipping across his brow. His gaze swept over me with a frown. “Nienna, are you well?”
A scoff left me as I circled the desk, set the cup down, and braced a hip against the edge to study the reports.
If they were tracked that far south, they were nearly at the port. Soreli sat only a day’s journey north. If they reached a major harbor, the world lay open to them.
Draconia and the island nations knew to fire on Velli ships before they made landfall. But a Radaanian vessel? That posed another threat. If they slipped aboard unnoticed, my homeland stood at risk, as did anyone daring to trade with Radaan.
The economic fallout chilled me.
“I needed distance from the nobles.” I reached up and smoothed his hair.
He wrapped an arm around me, lifted the kahve, and took a sip. “How did painting go?”
“Well. Though I suspect I shortened a few lives tonight.”
“They benefit from fear.” He chuckled, leaning back in his chair.
“Penelope created a striking piece—”
A low hum left him, his brows drawing together as ease gave way to thought.
“—She stopped me in the hall and asked about the dragons.” My teeth caught my cheek. “I want scouts sent to Gog.”
“Oh?” His frown eased, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Tallon needs allies, and Verad was loyal enough to die a martyr.” I kept my voice steady. “What if Penelope is a decoy? Someone meant to convince us Gog is compliant while protecting him, feeding him information. She asked about dragon anatomy, and I felt her searching for a weakness.”
“Do they have one?”
“No.”
He laughed, resting his hand just above my knee.
“I already sent scouts to Gog, as well as Glon and the other districts along the Craggs. They’re watching for mass Velli crossings, but they’ll report if Tallon is seen.
My instinct says he went north, to Phares.
They’d shelter him before any foothill city would. ”
“And Bac’phares? What did he say?”
“He denied it, of course.” He shook his head and took another drink. “Tallon’s group won’t stay hidden long. Their numbers are too large to just disappear. Someone’s bound to notice.”
Silence followed. His stare fixed on nothing, jaw muscle ticking.
“What is it?”
“Tallon is an Ichor.” His voice lowered. “But the Velli cannot extend that power beyond themselves.”
My hand lifted to the gash at my neck, the skin tight beneath the bandage. “He moved so fast.”
His focus snapped to me. “Their magic matures in two ways. Some drink blood and steal strength and speed from their victims—Ichors. Others are Cruor. They are rare, but far worse. We’re fortunate Tallon didn’t inherit that.”
“What can they do?”
“Command blood.” His gaze dropped to the desk, pain carving deeper lines at his eyes. “If they take your blood, they can control you. The effect doesn’t last long, though we don’t know the true extent—enough for brothers to turn on their own.”
His expression hardened with nightmares, and I shuddered at what he must have seen on the battlefield—men turning on each other, still aware, watching as he struck them down.
“But Egath is an Ichor,” he continued. “Some never fully inherit power. They’re little more than magicians playing tricks.”
“Why does that trouble you?” I asked. I couldn’t fault him for trying to place Tallon’s lineage, but I wouldn’t think he’d find it so concerning.
“The assassination attempt.” His fingers tapped against the mug. “Tallon and Egath were the only Velli this side of the Craggs. I thought Tallon used the Cruor gift to control the men who attacked you. But if he’s only an Ichor, then we know his limits.”
“Can bloodlines cross?” I asked. “What if Egath carried something latent?”
“I considered it.” He exhaled. “He went into lockdown immediately afterward, being my first suspect. I’m combing records, looking for contact between them before the attack, but so far, nothing has surfaced.”
My lip caught between my teeth, considering. “Can they carry both?”
“I’ve never seen it. Never heard it admitted—and we were very thorough with our interrogations.
” His eyes lit with a dangerous gleam, the hardened warrior breaking through.
“Though, if it were possible, they’d bury the truth.
They already guard their magic like a secret weapon.
I hoped Egath would reveal more, but it just goes to show we can’t trust them. ”
I turned, eyeing the stacks littering his desk. “Where are these records?”
“Let me handle it,” he said, squeezing my leg. “Have you checked on the heirs today?”
I dipped my chin, brows raised, and waited, refusing to give in to his diversion.
He scoffed, then shook his head before reaching past me to snag a stack of papers. He nudged the paperweight aside and handed them over. “You won’t find much.”
“Do you doubt my powers of deduction?” I fluttered my lashes, hugging the stack to my chest.
“I never said that.” A low rumble left him as he settled back with his kahve. His gaze darkened, roaming over me. “If they rival your powers of seduction, the reports don’t stand a chance.”
I leaned in, slow, deliberate, tongue brushing my lip before I spoke. His hungry stare tracked the motion, nostrils flaring as if he couldn’t breathe. A twitch pulled at his cheek near his eye; a helpless tell.
“And to think I’m not even trying,” I whispered.
He hauled me onto his lap. I yelped as papers scattered, his fingers threading into my hair, grip firm as his mouth claimed mine. The kiss bruised, all hunger and command.
“Good?” His question was a breathless hiss, lost in his assault, the fracture in his armor cracking wide open.
I didn’t bother to respond with words; instead, I shifted my legs and ground against him, our mantles tangling between us.
His groan vibrated through our kiss, undoing me. My heart slammed against my ribs as my lips curved into his. No other woman held such sway over him. I was the one he risked his kingdom for. His weakness. The only one who could take the mighty Golden Warrior and elicit such a sound from his throat.
His grip tightened on my thigh, repositioning me. My palms pressed to his shoulders as I met his smoldering stare. Our breaths tangled. We knew exactly where this was going.
I tried my best to appear composed, pretending the half-hour I’d spent delivering a drink to my husband hadn’t left me flushed, and that Greaves and Claus couldn’t have overheard anything through the door.
There was a quiet satisfaction in rebuilding oneself after a scandalous encounter. A slow, methodical intimacy in the small rituals of recovery. Kallias fixed my hair while I smoothed the chains on his mantle. He adjusted my dress; I patted down the strands I’d clutched in the heat of passion.
Our bodies remained uncharted territory, and we were mapping each other with every touch, mouth, and lip. Testing limits, discovering pleasure, watching restraint snap like a dam before our eyes.
My cheeks burned with pleasant warmth as I made my way back to my rooms, preparing to clean up before visiting the heirs. They weren’t expecting me, I reminded myself. I wasn’t late. This was my plan alone.
Kallias let me dictate my days without interference. That freedom felt strange. I had been a princess, bound to rigid schedules. Now I commanded my time, others waiting on my beck and call.
Edith rose as I entered, leaving Claus at the door. She moved quietly, helping me change into clothes suitable for chasing children around dragons. The heirs loved the beasts, and if I could give them a reprieve from their rooms and drag them into the fresh air, I would.
They had free rein of the palace, but only when escorted by a Thresher. That kept them in their chambers, too intimidated by the warriors to venture out on their own. Kallias treated them like treasures, protecting them until their parents or guardians returned.
“Are you feeling alright?” my handmaid asked as I prepared to leave.
I paused, frowning. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re flushed.”
“Edith.” I laughed, brushing my cheeks as if to cool the warmth. “You know very well why.”
She swallowed, ducking her head. The old woman never married, having served under my mother before me, but she understood why I looked as though I’d run a race.
“Please, do tell me if you begin to feel poorly.”
But seeing me whisked away, left alone in Radaan, knowing Gyrak should never have made it home—it wore her down. Coupled with being left behind while Freya attended me on the road, she must have felt awful.
“Thank you, Edith.” I waited until her eyes met mine, offering the smile of the little girl she had always guided, corrected, and protected.
Upon meeting my gaze, all tension melted from her expression.
When I entered the children’s rooms, they sat at a large table, quills in hand, absorbed in lessons. At my approach, they all rose, faces lighting with bright, eager smiles.
“Good day to you all,” I called.
“Good day, Your Majesty!” Their voices joined in unison, accompanied by a flurry of bows and curtsies.
Alea stood beside her governess, struggling to hide her restless grin.
“I see you’ve been keeping up with your schooling?” I asked. Enthusiastic nods answered me. I found an empty chair and sat with care. “Then show me.”
They swarmed at once, voices tumbling over mathematics and letters, pages thrust into my hands.
Runes marched in neat rows, numbers lined in tidy columns.
I took my time with every sheet, offering praise and gentle correction.
The older boys tried for indifference, broad shoulders squared in practiced nonchalance, but I caught the flush of pride on their cheeks.
“You’ve done wonderfully,” I said at last. “But too much time indoors isn’t healthy. Would you care for a stroll?”
Happy shrieks burst free, followed by swift reproach from the governess. I laughed as two girls clasped hands and spun in a clumsy circle. They looked nothing like the hollow-eyed children we’d found locked in the siege rooms.
The sun still held warmth when we reached the grounds, Gyrak passing overhead like a low thundercloud as the carriage carried us toward the training field. The name fit now, the space crowded with horses and dragons learning to move together, soldiers shouting commands into the wind.
I lifted a hand to shade my eyes, watching the land roll past. Autumn had settled over Radaan. Dusk came earlier, the air sharpening with the promise of winter’s approach. In Draconia, the season meant cool days and endless rain. But here?
“What is winter like in Reem?” I asked Ish’neer, seated across from me with Seraph’tal bouncing on her lap.
She tucked a strand of straight brown hair behind her ear, gaze drifting to the window. “Wet. Cold. Dark. The sun rises late and leaves early.”
“Like my brother!” Seraph blurted.
Laughter slipped from me as I tilted my head. “Then he’ll need a proper education if he’s to rule Tal.”
“He’s dead.” She smiled as though commenting on the sky and returned to twisting Ish’s necklace between her fingers.
“She wasn’t first in line,” the older girl said, voice flat. The carriage fell quiet. “He resisted, so they disposed of him and took Seraph.”
The light drained from Seraph’s face, her small hands freezing on the silver chain.
“Thank you for explaining.” I spoke gently, though inside, my heart thrashed with grief. I turned the conversation elsewhere, back to safer territory. “Did you know dragons don’t shed their scales unless they’re ill or dying?”
“Truly?” Another girl leaned forward, eyes wide. “They aren’t like snakes, then? Do they overlap? Grow individually? Are they born with them?”
Questions poured out, and I welcomed them, steering curious minds away from remorse and fear. The urge to demand names, to hunt down those who had delivered these children so neatly into Tallon’s hands, burned hot beneath my skin. I wanted their heads on a pike.
The bastard prince couldn’t have taken them all himself. Had he sent Ichors into the districts? Was this Velli work, or had our own people betrayed them?
A practiced smile held my mask in place; years of training concealed my fury. Tallon hadn’t paid for his treachery yet. But by my hand, he would face dragonfire, or something far worse.