Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nienna
Kallias held me tight that night, nestled with his chest against my back, his arm draped over my side, fingers splayed wide over my womb.
Protective of the little one already.
I woke still in his embrace, secure and warm. It was the first morning in what felt like ages that I actually wanted to climb out of bed and greet the day.
The day of my Radaanian wedding.
When I slipped out of bed, his silent stare followed me. Not asking me if I was well, or overbearing in his care. He was simply watching, prepared to be there if I needed him.
The morning was a flurry of activity. Edith and Freya bathed me in oils from Draconia, but left my hair loose in the Radaanian style with flowers pinned throughout.
Kallias stayed in our bedchambers, seeking the privacy to get ready while the seamstresses and my maids took over the dressing room.
Alma kept me informed on the state of affairs and order of ceremonies, and rushed between rooms to consult Fallione.
I smiled, seeing our advisors with their heads bent over their papers.
Fallione with his sheaf of unbound paper and Alma with her lightweight board and neat stacks.
She would adjust her glasses, squinting at his notes and comment before scribbling something down.
I managed to eat a piece of thin bread with jam without my stomach turning. It was enough to get me through the morning. Kallias had asked me in the dead of the night what foods were more appealing, and blearily, I had responded breads and fruit.
I had no doubt there would be bread and fruit at today’s wedding feast.
My dear husband was calculated. He rarely let his emotions get the best of him, always having an invisible guard up. He might come across as cold and unfeeling, but he was thoughtful. Compassionate. There was far more to him than anyone gave him credit for.
Nearing midday, we were both finally prepared for the crowds of Radaan. I was too busy to greet the heirs’ parents and guardians as they arrived, but I would make it a point to see them the following day.
With the last stitch tied off, the seamstress stood back.
I took in the woman in the mirror. The mantle already covered my shoulders, the metal cold against my chilled flesh.
The intricate golden scales caught the light, glittering like a thousand tiny suns above the green swaths below.
A myriad of small flowers blossomed along my side, winding across my waist before spilling down the opposite hip.
Pinks, purples, and blues splattered my gown with color, making me look like some fine nymph.
The gown was an homage to Veridis, Goddess of Life. My lips tilted upward in a secret smile, knowing what lay beneath the folds of the dress. The life that was ours alone.
Fallione’s voice broke the quiet. “Is the queen ready?”
“It suits you,” Alma murmured, board clutched to her chest. “‘Tis the best we could do in such limited time.”
“It’s nothing short of perfection. Thank you.” I picked at the gauzy hem. A single slit ran up to my waist, revealing matching breeches beneath, tucked into light calfskin boots.
“She’s ready,” Alma called as I stepped off the stool.
Kallias appeared in the doorway, broad shoulders dominating the space.
The leaves in his layered mantle glinted, plates of his pauldrons steady and unmoving.
It rested over a dark green overcoat and vest, the color of the deepest forest moss.
Gold vines embroidered his sleeves and across his chest, tangling in the chains.
His expression was guarded, severe and proper, though when his eyes met mine, his expression softened a margin. His gaze trailed down my dress, snagging on my waist before snapping back to my face.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Your beauty will awe the masses.”
“And what do you think?” I teased, striding toward him, fingering the hilt of his broadsword.
“I think you’re ravishing.” His voice dropped, a statement meant only for my ears.
He offered his arm. The lush fabric was soft under my fingertips, embroidery thread as smooth as butter.
I lifted my chin, swallowing past the vice that strangled me.
My neck was thankfully bandage-free, but that nasty scab ran along my collarbone.
Still, the dark wound was less obnoxious than a bright white strip of cloth.
Fallione stood in the waiting room, his mouth kept in a careful smile—but his eyes glimmered with unshed tears. He doubled over in the deepest of bows. “My king and queen, your people await.”
Greaves and Claus trailed us as we left the quiet palace and entered the courtyard. The servants who were missing in the halls congregated in the gardens, hedging a small aisle. As one, they bowed, bodies folding in half as they paid their respects.
A stableboy held two white horses, followed by a pair of blacks. I forced myself to remain calm; the ride from the Dragon Ship to Reem had given me plenty of opportunity to gather experience on horseback.
Kallias stopped in front of a white, dropping his arm to thread his fingers together. I took his leg up, straddling the horse. It stood still under me, placid and calm, giving me no reason to worry.
Within a breath my husband was mounted beside me and our guards behind us on the snorting blacks. He spared me one glance to be sure I was ready and urged his horse forward.
The streets of Reem were crammed; people were nearly stacked on top of each other. Children took advantage of wagons and barrels, searching for better vantage points.
“Hail, King Kallias and Queen Nienna!”
While the servants within the walls were silent in their respects, Reem proper bustled with noise.
The people bowed, tossing flowers and ribbons into the cobblestone streets.
I smiled, accepting their kindness with grace.
This was a moment for me not as the Dragon’s Heart, but as the queen of an earthly folk.
I caught the looks, though—the flash of accusing eyes, the press of lips into disapproving frowns.
They were outnumbered by those who smiled and threw roses, but they were there.
I only hoped Kallias and Fallione were right, and that by the end of the day I would at least fracture the hard shell around their hearts.
We rode through Reem’s cramped streets, people leaning halfway out of windows, then into the open roads of the villages just beyond the wall. It wasn’t a short ride, but a long route that gave everyone the chance to see us.
Above, dragons flew so high they could have been mistaken for birds.
We rode north to the river Hesoth, which passed through Reem and fed the massive fields to the south. Kallias had a bridge built over a calm section, putting his carpenters to work in haste to prepare for the ceremony.
The crowd in the courtyard was a pitiful preparation for the multitude that awaited us at the river.
Gyrak towered above them, flanked by Breon and golden Matalino.
Erwin and Artorious circled overhead, tailed by another greenish fleck in the sky.
Matalino’s shimmering scales demanded attention, rivaling the shine of our mantles.
The dragons’ heads pointed our way, slitted irises trained on our horses.
The crowd poured across the plain, nobles at the front in finery, common folk spread behind—all there to witness the blood mingling.
Alongside the path, the river gurgled, its sound soothing as it carried water to the crops. It was Radaan’s lifeblood, filling her fields and feeding her people.
A soldier in green-painted armor reached for our horses as we arrived at the bridge. My palms were clammy, and I cursed my nerves, dismounting before I could make a fool of myself.
Kallias was there in a breath, his hands secure around my waist. “Steady.”
“I am steady,” I hissed back.
His grip tightened, a small warning before he escorted me to the foot of the bridge. There, we turned and faced the crowd.
Silence fell, even the birds halting their song.
They bowed—nobles, craftsmen, beggars—garments scraping the earth.
But not all bent the knee.
Kallias tensed beneath my grip as a few scattered here and there refused to bow. Backs stiff, chins held high, they stood above the crowd.
A roar split the quiet. Gyrak surged forward with a bellow, rebuking those who would dare challenge us. Those that remained upright bowed in terror—others tugged down by friends and family.
My fingers dug into Kallias as the black recoiled with a warning snarl.
I was supposed to be presented as a queen today, a boon to their nation bringing a treaty—not demanding their loyalty through fear. No doubt I had my brother to thank for Gyrak’s intercession.
“Rise, Radaan!” Kallias’ voice boomed over the plain. “On this day, you stand witness to the mingling of blood, and with it, the binding of two kingdoms. Today, Draconia and Radaan unite as one!”
Cheers erupted from the crowd, exuberant cries of happiness. My husband, my king, my equal—led me onto the bridge.
The construction betrayed no hint of haste. Fine and detailed, small, intricate engravings traced along the rail—flowers, flames, life intertwined—but I had no time to fully appreciate them.
Wood creaked beneath our boots as we reached the peak, facing downstream.
The land here had been cleared of the thick willows that crowded the banks further down.
No place to hide, no way to obscure the view.
Both sides of the river teemed with people, ears straining for our words, eyes shaded against the bright sunlight.
“Roll my sleeve,” Kallias murmured, offering his right arm.
I resisted the urge to lick my lips, biting down on nerves. The fabric was stiff beneath my fingers as I pushed it upward, revealing corded, tanned muscle. I rolled his tunic sleeve to the elbow, exposing his warm skin.
From his waist, he drew a tiny dagger, no longer than my finger. Its hilt gleamed gold, inset with emeralds that caught the sunlight.