Chapter 34 #3
He had offered the capital in exchange for her. I assumed it was for her ties to Draconia and the dragons, security of his future rule.
It didn’t line up.
Why flee instead of fight? Why race toward Vellos rather than stand his ground? Was he prepared to abandon Radaan altogether?
My fist struck the wooden stand. Pain flared across my knuckles, and I welcomed it. It narrowed the chaos in my mind to a single point.
What was I missing?
The answer hovered close enough to taste, bitter at the back of my tongue. I circled it, reached for it, lost it.
A knock broke the spiral.
Nienna crossed the floor, boots whispering over warped boards. Low voices murmured beyond the threshold. The scent of roast chicken drifted in, warm and salted, threaded with rosemary.
Elohios, guide me. What does he intend? Why run when he should be sharpening blades?
If I met him at the Craggs, would I charge headlong into an army? We had dragons. Fire would split their ranks. Velli speed meant little against wings and flame.
The door closed. The fragile lattice of strategy in my mind collapsed. I let out a rough sound of frustration, eyes squeezed tight as if I could trap the pieces before they fell. They slipped anyway, sinking beyond reach.
A breath left me slow and heavy. I dipped my hands into the basin and splashed water over my face. Cold bit into skin, ran down my neck, soaked into my collar. It did nothing to quell the unrest.
It still refused to align.
Nienna’s palms settled on my shoulders. Bittersweet agony pressed into tight muscle, thumbs working along the line of my spine. A low ache flared, then eased beneath her touch. I leaned into her, surrendering to it as she worked out the worst of the knots.
“What is it?” Her breath tickled my ear, warm against damp skin.
“Nothing.” The word felt hollow—because it was true.
The answers were out of reach. There wasn’t anything left to do but wait.
The next day unfolded much the same. Hard riding from dawn until the sky bruised toward evening.
We drove the horses until foam laced their bits and their flanks trembled beneath saddle and cinch.
Each mile shaved off the distance to the Craggs.
I kept my thoughts unfocused. When I focused too long on a problem, I missed what stood before me.
By the time we reached Danesburg, my bones hummed with fatigue.
Ronan crowded into the small council room that night, maps spread across a scarred table. Lanternlight cast sharp shadows along his jaw as he spoke of what we might find at first light, and how best to wield Nienna’s dragons.
“If he reached the Pass of Thousands, we guard it and leave it,” I said. I needed time—space to see the board clearly.
Ronan’s lip curled. “You’re going to let him go.”
“I will not cross the Craggs.” My voice carried no room for argument.
But, as usual, the boy ignored the boundary.
“After what he did to my sister. Your wife.” His palm struck the table, wood rattling beneath the blow. His eyes cut hard as drawn steel. “You’re just letting him run free.”
“I will let him run,” I ground out. “Vellos can deal with him. The dragons are to guard our borders. And Radaan shall be safe from his meddling.”
Uncertainty nagged at me, something uneasy in my bones. There was a falsehood there, a discordant note I could not silence.
“I refuse to send my riders to shield a kingdom too weak to defend itself.”
“They’re not your dragons to command,” Nienna snapped.
Flames flared across his skin in answer. They licked over his knuckles, charring the edge of the map. The sharp scent of smoke curled upward.
“You’re a cowar–”
I lunged. I seized his burning wrist and wrenched him back from the table. Fire leapt to my overcoat as he grabbed my lapel, embers biting through cloth.
My free hand closed around his throat. I drove him into the far wall, away from the curtain and timber. Plaster cracked beneath the impact. “Choose your words with care, boy,” I snarled, inches from his face.
Nienna seethed. “Ronan, you storming fool, the room!”
“Call me a coward,” I said low, tightening my grip, “and you’ll discover whether I truly am.”
He drew a dagger and slashed toward my side.
A ceramic vase shattered against his skull.
Flame vanished in an instant. Embers clung to my jacket as Ronan sagged, eyes rolling back. I released him. His body struck the floor with a dull thud. I brushed at the smoldering cloth, the acrid stink of burned wool rising between us.
“I swear—you two!” Nienna’s fury filled the room.
Outside, a dragon screamed, the sound long and furious. Likely Gyrak.
I turned my gaze on her. There was only so much I would tolerate from her brother. One day he would test a line that couldn’t be redrawn. Then we would find out if his beast could survive without a rider.
Part of me longed to see him sent back to his island once Tallon was dealt with. The Draconis prince burned too hot, too impulsive to rule. Nienna carried the same fire yet she tempered it with cool calculation.
Ronan was devoid of all sense.
“He stays out of my sight until we reach the pass,” I said, then shrugged out of my jacket. Whatever gift lingered from the Dragon’s Kiss spared my skin. The fabric bore the damage instead.
Greaves stepped forward without a word. He hoisted the limp princeling over his shoulder and tossed him into the hall, then kicked the door shut. His gaze flicked over my scorched clothes, mouth set in disapproval.
If there was one man I did not fear, it was Ronan Draconis.
“He’s protective.” Nienna tugged my tunic free from my trousers, fingers firm. “He will listen to me.”
“He’d better.” I caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, smoothing my expression into cool neutrality. “The next time he challenges me, I’ll answer. You may become the only heir left to Draconia.”
She scoffed, a crooked smile touching her mouth. “Gyrak would never allow that.”
“I’ve stood in dragonfire before.”
“And he wouldn’t be alone,” Greaves muttered.
Nienna pivoted on him, glare sharp. “If you attempt to bring down a dragon, darling Greaves, you’re going to have a problem on your hands.”
“We already have to put up with you,” he shot back.
I tugged at my belt free, hiding the smile threatening to break.
Nienna’s eyes narrowed. Her fingers moved to the laces of her dress, tugging them loose with deliberate slowness.
“Ah yes,” she said, voice rich with challenge. “You endure me.”
With a single brow arched high, fabric slid over her shoulders, then pooled at her feet.
Greaves’ gaze snapped to mine and held. He would stay out of spite alone, eyes locked on me to prove he could not be forced from a room. He would not move unless I commanded it.
And as much as I enjoyed their defiance, I had no desire to hold his stare all night.
I jerked my head toward the door.
He snorted, then stepped out, closing it behind him.
“Crab,” Nienna muttered.
“I have choice words for your brother as well.”
Despite my irritation, moments like this lodged deep in my heart. The witty banter. The taunting and teasing masked as etiquette. It felt like family. I had known it only in fragments as a boy and in quieter ways with Greaves. It was a beautiful thing, to see that grow.
And Nienna’s pregnancy would only strengthen that bond.
Danesburg brought us closer to Tallon. And perhaps, if the gods favored us, closer to a lifetime of peace.