Chapter 33 #2
They didn’t see the orders I had signed commanding a slow march to Reem, a snail’s pace. Clauses ensured none would be left behind; provisions secured wagons, healers, warm bread. A final decree required every soul to be counted at each stop.
Spine straight as a spear, face set like flint, Kallias sat tall in the saddle. The Golden Warrior. Chosen of the Gods. One by one, my dragons launched skyward, wings beating cold gusts that battered cloaks and sent ash spiraling.
They witnessed a king’s righteous fury.
But missed the compassion and love he had for his people.
The first hours of the ride passed in silence, hooves drumming a dull rhythm against frozen earth. Wind scraped across my cheeks, sharp with the scent of ash and distant smoke. The weight of the damnation he delivered rode with us, heavy as iron.
“Are we heading for the Andeluith?” I asked at last, the quiet gnawing through me. Guilt pressed on him like armor he could not remove. He had let that boy believe himself cursed, left him thinking Kallias despised him, all because he wore the mantle.
It was cruel—but necessary. Radaan would not forget. Phares would be cleared, not rebuilt. The tower would be sealed, destined to loom over the Wandering People and their ruins. A warning etched in black stone for any who dared defy a god’s chosen.
Dragonfire would scar the land long after we were dust.
Kallias blinked, my voice pulling him from whatever dark corridor his thoughts had wandered. Tear tracks had dried, leaving faint salt lines against wind-chilled skin. “We ride for the Pass of Thousands. If he means to flee over the Craggs, that’s the safest crossing.”
“And if he’s not there?”
A shadow crossed his face, brows drawing low. “Then we turn south to Sol.”
My stomach sank as if the ground had given way. No matter how often I heard him and Fallione weigh the possibility, the thought of Tallon in Sol haunted me. I clung to the belief that Clay would bar the gates. He would not betray his people for his daughter. He couldn’t.
Why would that petulant prince hide inside stone walls?
To make a final stand? Did he hope to invite the Velli to claim Sol’s granaries and wells?
I could not wrap my mind around it, yet the notion refused to settle.
We could surround the city, let hunger do what swords need not.
No siege. No flames. Only patience to starve them out.
Memory rose unbidden. The dance where Kallias and I had moved without shame, passion bare before every watching eye.
No one judged, though they had every right.
The peaceful air of the Manor in the Mountains followed close behind, kitchens warm with yeast and roasting meat, laughter ringing against timber beams.
The idea of Tallon’s shadow over those halls turned my stomach. Bitter acid climbed my throat.
“We will pass through Helmsgate and stay the night.” Kallias’ voice cut through the churn.
“Is the city large?”
He studied me from the corner of his eye. “A town. The accommodations are sparse, but it’s better than sleeping beneath the stars this time of year.”
“Did Tallon take this road?”
“Scouts confirmed it. Hence why we’re following it.”
“And the people there?”
His gaze settled fully on me now, guarded.
“Must I prepare the dragons?” I asked.
Not that they needed preparation. Ronan would not hesitate to rain fire on any who sheltered the man who harmed me.
Kallias closed his eyes for a breath. Pain tightened his mouth. “Phares had strength enough to seize him—hand him over. Helmsgate does not. When he passed through, it was by force. Witnesses reported no aid offered, no resistance either. They endured him.”
A gust tugged at my cloak. Part of me wished I had read those accounts myself, traced every word, searched for deceit between the lines.
“Then we offer mercy.”
“We give them what is due.” His hand tightened around the spear at his side, the shaft creaking beneath his grip. “Our people have suffered. It’s my duty to protect them.”
“Our duty.” I kept my voice low, though Greaves rode close enough to hear if he strained. “Your soldiers have seen dragons destroy. They must see that they can defend as well. A part of me almost wishes the Velli would meet us in an open field. Just so our army could witness their ferocity.”
“I’m fairly certain they grasped the beasts’ dedication when a dragon tried to tear the tower down.”
A faint smile touched my mouth. Ronan had said Tsunami hurled herself against stone, claws ripping mortar in her frenzy to reach me. That must’ve been when the Velli laid hands on me.
“They see me as a weapon.” The admission slipped free as I glanced over my shoulder at the ranks, their helms glinting in the pale sun. “I crave the day they look at me and see a shield.”
Empathy flickered across my husband’s features. A wounded smile followed. “We don’t get to choose the lens through which others view us.”
No, we didn’t. Just like that boy… He might grow up believing himself damned. Those displaced people might curse Kallias’ name in hushed tents, claiming he ripped away their homes. He did not have a say in how they saw him, or what they called him behind closed doors.
None of it altered who he was.
Compassion and sorrow still found him in quiet moments, carving lines into his soul.
In the end, he was not only King of Radaan.
He was Kallias. A man who survived an abusive marriage, swallowed the shame of it in silence, and waged war through the prime of his life to shield his realm.
After all that, he still had room in his scarred heart to love. To care.
That is the man I chose to see.