Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kallias
Nienna poked at a potato, cutting it into neat pieces.
“—and therefore I advise Ronan, Sean, and Orrin to be present at the wedding. Mikal and Erwin can guard the perimeter, and Nakos can oversee the river.”
She pushed the pieces around her plate, murmuring a comment to her brother. He laughed, and she lifted an empty fork to her lips.
Something was wrong.
While our food differed from hers, she had never struggled to eat it before. I scanned the room, searching for whatever had unsettled her.
“Let’s hope Tsunami finds something else to do,” I replied to Fallione, trying to wrestle my brain in two directions.
Greaves shifted behind me, sensing my unease, and I bit into a carrot, willing my body to loosen. If he noticed my search, she would too.
“Offer her a sacrifice,” Nienna interjected, always keeping an ear open for me. “Ronan’s been blocking her from the cattle.”
Her brother leaned forward, swallowing before he spoke. “Give her a cow and she’ll gorge herself, grounded for the day. You won’t have to worry about her.”
“I would sacrifice an ox to keep her grounded.” The dragon was a nuisance. Far too impulsive and wild for my taste. If Gyrak managed to lure her back to Draconia once this ended, I would sleep better for it.
The evening passed without incident, nobles drifting closer to share their excitement for the wedding. Guarded stares still lingered, old glares remained, but we slipped into our familiar routines with ease.
Nienna handled them with tact and care, prepared for every question, armed with a response for each comment.
When we retired, she’d barely eaten. A frown tugged at me as I debated escorting her back to our rooms.
“Take me to the roof?” The request came hushed, meant only for me.
I pivoted at once, guiding her toward the small kitchen. She asked for Dragon Tea, and I smothered a smile when the cook already had it prepared.
Greaves intercepted the mug before she could reach it, and she swallowed her irritation as he examined the translucent liquid with a grimace.
“Unless you prefer Elysia to accompany you, Greaves will sample your drink.” I lifted my cider, shaking my head.
The cook pressed his lips together, his outrage carefully contained. It was offensive, perhaps, but necessary. Especially in Radaan’s current political climate.
The guard took a small sip. As he pulled the mug away, he flinched, jaw tightening against the taste. I lifted a brow as he handed the tea to my wife. With as much restraint as he possessed, he seized my cup and drained half the cider.
Nienna laughed as we moved down the corridor. “It is not that horrible!”
“To you,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Not all of us wish to drink the sea.” I chuckled, climbing the stairs to the balcony.
She huffed, pausing for a sip. A pleased hum followed before she continued behind me. “It’s good for you.”
Greaves grunted at that. “Salt belongs on food. Not in drinks.”
“Agreed.” I held the door as he swept the balcony.
After a moment, he declared it safe and retreated into the palace, leaving us alone.
Stars spilled across the sky, and warm cinnamon lingered on my tongue. No dragons tonight. Only silence and starlight.
“The heirs’ parents and guardians arrive tomorrow?” Nienna asked.
“Most of them. Those farther out will follow, but everyone should be present for the wedding.”
The corner of her mouth curved upward. “Our wedding.”
“Did you expect to marry another?”
“Only you.” She laughed, lifting her mug. “It’s exciting, but…”
“The ceremonies?” I leaned against the wall, studying her face. “There’s more pressure on my performance than any expectation placed on you.”
“Kallias.” She scoffed, eyelids lowering in amusement despite her smile. “I fear what comes after.”
“You’re worried about Tallon.”
Her gaze drifted toward the darkened fields. “I want it to be over.”
It was a mutual desire. Within the Golden Palace, with her beside me, I could pretend that everything was fine—Radaan was back to normal. That nothing lurked beyond the walls. That a bastard didn’t roam the wilds.
Yet my friend remained missing.
Soldiers gone. Velli in my lands. The desire to push it all aside felt selfish, even cruel, and still it lived in me. I longed for a lifetime of moments like this; hidden away from the world and all its demands. What kind of monster did that make me?
With a quiet breath, I set my cup down and stepped closer to her side. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, mindful of her wound.
Yet another reminder of Tallon’s damage. Gods, if it scarred, it would remind me of my failure every day.
Her head tipped back, soft blonde waves brushing my chin as she stared into the constellations. Fields stretched below us, harvests underway. My lips curved against her hair, our poses a reminder. She yearned for the sky. I belonged to the ground.
“Why didn’t you eat tonight?” I asked softly, heart pounding. Had she noticed? Counted the days? Had her maid spoken out of turn? If—and it remained only a thought—she carried a child, it needed nourishment. It would not survive her picking at food like a bird at seed.
Her spine stiffened, a brief flinch before she eased. “I had tea with the noblewomen. Too many cakes.”
Tea, yes. That much was true. But indulgence? Unlikely. Not among women hungry for gossip. My hand slipped beneath her dragonscale mantle, warming the bare skin of her arm.
“I expect you to eat first meal.”
Her stomach clenched, and my teeth ground together. Elohios, was she unwell? She would’ve told me. Illness could not hide within palace walls so close to a wedding.
She leaned back against me, fingers lifting to cup my jaw. “Are you monitoring my meals, dear husband?”
“Your health,” I corrected, kissing her temple. “The Queen of Radaan matters above all else.”
“Then I should return the favor.” She turned, hopping onto the low sandstone wall, starlight catching in her gaze. “How is your stamina, dear king?”
Words lodged in my throat, uncertainty threading through me. “You already know, but I’d be glad to demonstrate on our wedding night.”
Her head tilted, suspicion sharpening her eyes. I lifted my cooling mug, cider dull and tepid as it slid down to my stomach—a deflection. I needed answers before I took her again.
“But for now, I can give you this.” I stepped between her knees, drew her mouth to mine. Cool mint met warm spice. Her sigh unfurled, perfect and soft, and she melted into my embrace as if it were her home.
Like she belonged with me.
The healer strode into my office, his weathered face pinched with worry. Greaves slipped in behind him, his curiosity about why I’d summoned him written plain on his expression.
The elderly man greeted me with a deep bow. “My king.”
I inclined my head, honoring his station. “Master Healer Rodrick. Thank you for coming.”
“We are at your service. How may I assist you today?” His beady eyes traced my mantle, then down my chest, as if he might see through the clothing to whatever ailment lay beneath.
“Sit.” I gestured to the chair, and he lowered himself with care, spine rigid, black robes smoothed flat. “What we discuss does not leave this room.”
His expression shuttered at once. Tension creased his features. “Of course, my king.”
“I require your oath.” My voice remained even. “This conversation shall not be repeated or hinted at. If whispers reach my ears, your head will decorate the executioner’s table, and your blood will feed its flowers.”
Color drained from his face. He swallowed hard. “You have my word.”
My stare held a breath longer. He needed to understand the weight of it. I did not seek this knowledge lightly, and I would not allow enemies or would-be traitors to wield it.
“Explain the parameters of a woman with child.”
“Your Majesty?” Surprise pitched his tone high, though he masked it well.
“What conditions endanger her or the babe?”
He blinked, fingers lacing together in his lap. “There are a great many things—but that is best left between a woman and her midwife.”
Papers crumpled beneath my forearms as I leaned forward. “I did not ask for your opinion. I gave an order, and I expect it to be obeyed. Tell me.”
Greaves lingered in the shadows, settling into a chair near the bookshelf. He understood this would take time.
“Forgive me.” Rodrick licked his lips, hands twisting before he steadied them. “It is customary for midwives to oversee such matters. Noble menfolk prefer ignorance.”
And if I summoned a midwife, the palace would hum with speculation before nightfall. Men being kept in the dark was precisely why I sent for him.
I was no stranger to the human body. But my exposure to pregnancy began and ended with Eldeiade and distant courtly observations.
Once their seed was secured, men seemed to treat their wives like fragile relics—or avoid them altogether as if they were diseased.
Logic told me it was folly, but noble opinion formed the only pattern I had. I needed more information.
“I am King of Radaan,” I said. “And I choose to be enlightened. Is it common for them to refuse food?”
“It is not rare.” He inclined his head. “Early seasons bring sickness. A woman of standing may avoid eating to spare herself embarrassment or to prevent public humiliation.”
Blood surged, pride singing in my veins. Nienna’s thin appetite fit the pattern too neatly. Hope flared, bright and dangerous.
“Does the sickness pass?”
“In most cases.” His brow creased, his discomfort on the subject plain. He wanted me to summon a midwife.
Not yet.
“It seldom lasts the full term. If it does, the babe suffers. Rest is vital. They should remain in their chambers. No startling events. No undue excitement.”
I nearly choked.
Kept to her rooms? Nienna?
Elohios preserve me.
“What kind of excitement? How is excess determined?”