Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kallias
Faint tingles ran through my fingers, and I flexed against the sensation. Tanned skin pressed to the hilt of my sword as I stared at my hand. When Nienna had curled against me last night, I draped my arm around her, my palm resting just below her navel.
A silly, pointless thing.
If she were with child, there would be no kicks, no sign of that life for months. Still, my touch slid against her soft skin as if my wishful thinking—dreams I shouldn’t dare dream—could plant a babe inside her.
Shaking out my fingers, I scanned the soldiers riding past the large red dragon.
Horses moved in straight lines, keeping close to the beasts without faltering.
Ruby scales glinted in the sun, deep and rich, outlined in black skin.
Elmo was blood solidified, the magic we would unleash against the Velli’s own.
“We’re cycling them out. Nearly all the horses have been desensitized,” General Xzaphin said, sitting tall in his saddle as he surveyed his men. Sandy brown hair marked him as the youngest of my generals, but at thirty-two, he had more than proved himself.
“I expect them to be fit to march in a week,” I replied.
One week.
Barely time to catch my breath before tracking Tallon.
“It will be done,” he agreed. “The draft has been pulling soldiers. We’ll be ready.”
A roar split the air. Tsunami dove toward us, Breon and Nakos close behind. The smaller green let out another outraged scream, but the riderless female ignored him.
Horses and riders scrambled to clear the field as Elmo lunged.
Xzaphin cursed, struggling to keep his mount beneath him. “What is going on?!” he hissed.
The red dragon reached us just as Tsunami hit the ground. He whirled on her, tail flying above our heads. My horse spooked, bracing to run, and I hauled back on the reins, keeping my seat.
Tsunami let out a shriek, a wailing cry that pierced the air. Elmo answered with a deep roar that shook the fields. Horses neighed in fright, too close to the bickering beasts.
Where was Ronan—or Nienna? Anyone to explain these actions. Is this what Draconia dealt with all the time?
The blood-red tail slashed through the air again.
Elmo tried to advance on Tsunami, pushing her toward the sky.
She spread her wings, making herself appear larger.
He mimicked her, reminding her that she was smaller.
With a defiant scream, she threw a shower of embers, oil glands dripping with threat.
If they set the blasted field on fire, they would burn all of Reem.
I kicked my horse into action, galloping in a wide circle around them. Greaves kept close, putting his mount between me and the beasts. Scanning sky and ground, I didn’t see a black dragon—the missing Draconis Prince.
Tsunami’s gold eye locked on me.
She twisted, inadvertently slapping Elmo’s face with her tail as she honed in on me—a hawk sizing up its prey. Heart lurching into my throat, I pulled my horse to a stop and slid off its back. If there was anything I’d learned from Nienna, it was not to run when she did this.
Head hovering above the long grass, she stalked toward me like a cat. Elmo bellowed, advancing—but she stopped ten paces away and dropped her belly to the ground. Tucking her tail around her, she waited, nostrils flaring with deep, searching sniffs.
“King Kallias!” Mikal’s voice came from across the field.
Greaves stood beside me, glaring at the creature. “What’s her problem?”
I squinted, grinding my teeth as I held her stare. It was almost as if she were expecting something. But what? A snack? She’d had plenty of chances to bond with me, which I was thankful she hadn’t taken.
So why wouldn’t she leave me alone?
Baring her teeth in a yawn, her tongue flicked out to taste the air. She chomped down again with a huff, and let out an imploring series of clicks.
Elmo snapped at her wing. She tucked it closer, eyes narrowing on me.
“She wants something from me,” I murmured, leather reins biting into my palm.
“Aside from dinner?” Greaves grumbled, hand on his hilt, ready to take the beast on for my sake.
“Your Majesty.” Mikal jogged to a halt beside me, then crossed his arms over his chest. “At least she didn’t eat you.”
“She’s had plenty of opportunities. Where’s Prince Ronan?” I refused to take my eyes off her.
“Hunting with Orrin and Erwin. They’ll be back before dark.”
Her pupils flared as she sucked in another breath, sending dust scattering into the air.
“Do you know what she wants?”
“You?” he guessed with a shrug. “Do you sense her? Feel her inside your mind?”
I shot him a reproving glare. “My thoughts are my own.”
They always assumed she bonded me, her attention due to some magical tie I hid. With a sigh, I focused my attention inward, feeling for anything different, any emotions or threads that didn’t feel natural.
Nothing.
“Then I apologize for her landing, but I haven’t a clue why she’s here.”
She scooted forward, a shimmy of her hips, claws digging into the earth. The clicks came again, as if she were asking for something.
“Should I do anything?” I asked, wishing Nienna were here. I shouldn’t have to ask a rider what to do.
“Any other person, I’d say reach out to her—but unless you’re willing to lose a limb, I wouldn’t advise it.”
A limb might be worth it just to be rid of her.
I passed my reins to Greaves. His lips parted briefly before he clenched his jaw, remembering his place. His gloved hand closed over mine—the only warning he would give before I stepped forward.
Her head bolted upright, and I froze.
“Easy does it,” Mikal murmured, as if I were a boy approaching a wild stallion.
Another step.
Her muzzle drooped back toward the earth, and she sniffed, nostrils flaring wider than my skull.
She didn’t lunge or strike, but waited as I approached.
Two paces from her scaled lips, and my boots felt as if they had sprouted roots.
She shifted, a single massive eye locking onto me, narrowing to a slit before blowing out.
I dared not reach out to touch her. She was too unpredictable for that. Nienna, though, spoke to beasts—even this one—and they seemed to understand her.
“What is it you want?” My voice stayed low, aware that all my soldiers watched in tense silence.
She emitted a soft croon before twisting to rise. Her massive form loomed over me, tips of fangs protruding from a muzzle that blotted out the sun. My fingers clenched into an uneasy fist, but she only sampled the air once more.
After a long, searching inhale, the force of her breath tousled my hair.
A definitive rumble trickled out, and she pulled back, surveying the men surrounding us, bored with me. I frowned as her bulk retreated. Elmo let out an irritated huff, but she ignored him, scanning the sky once before spreading her wings.
A gale blew past me as she launched skyward—whatever question she had, answered.
With a shake of my head, I returned to Greaves. His brooding glare warned me I had an earful coming once we were alone.
“Did you tell her to go?” Mikal asked, though I heard the silent accusation behind his words. Not malicious, just disbelief. Only a bonded could send a dragon away.
Or my wife.
“I am the King of Radaan,” I replied, mounting again. “Dragons fall under my queen’s authority. I would not presume to order them about.”
The executions took place the following day.
I didn’t want Nienna there—not when the traitors had been sentenced to beheading. A hanging wouldn’t have been any better, but for some reason I wanted to keep her pure, unsullied. She had already witnessed too much death—administered it herself.
But she insisted. And Fallione took her side, arguing that the people needed to be reminded why this punishment was meted out. They had to witness Nienna and me together, acknowledge us as their combined rulers.
We sat on wooden thrones, vines wrapping the wood, marking how long it had been since I witnessed an execution of my own people. Every noble present during Tallon’s coup lined the courtyard. They would witness this brutality and know that the responsibility fell on their shoulders too.
A crowd of Radaanians gathered—not the noisy mobs I’d heard of, but a silent assembly. The gravity of the moment drowned out all conversation.
“Today, Nyryn is satisfied,” I called, voice ringing above the congregation.
I invoked not Elohios, but the god of battle and vengeance.
“Those slain here have been tried by the high court, free of noble influence, and found guilty of treason.
By supporting the usurper, they have betrayed their gods and their true king.
Hundreds of innocent Radaanian lives were lost.
“I hereby oversee their death.”
Nienna sat beside me, her grip light on my hand. She was ready, prepared to witness the end of those who had wronged us.
The first man was led to the stage, back straight, chin held high. Proud. He had the large build of a blacksmith, girth spilling over his belt.
All the more blood to soak the ground.
He dropped to his knees without a word, head positioned along the executioner’s block.
No last words. No pardons sought. Only the search for a quick death, uncaring for those left behind.
The executioner, a giant of a man dressed in black with a dark hood, waited, eyes fixed on us.
Nienna nodded.
The ax arced through the air, slamming into wood with a sickening squelch. Then a thud. The head rolled free, blood running in rivulets into the garden planters below. Their just death would feed a new generation of life. The only good to come of it.
It was a pruning. No tree enjoyed having its branches chipped or its buds snipped, but it was necessary for the plant to flourish. If Radaan was to thrive, the rotten, cancerous growth had to be cut.
My men dragged his body aside, then dumped it into a wagon. They tossed his head in after; the thumps deafening in the silence.