Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kallias
Ipinned down the map, despite knowing we had no hope. There was no way into Sol without traversing the bridges at the foothills. All Tallon had to do was drop them, and all access vanished.
Aside from dragonback.
The city delved deep, burrowing into the mountain like a termite nest in a tree. Dragons could scratch only the surface. They would never fit in the tunnel beneath Clay’s home—and if Tallon held Sol, he had taken the Manor in the Mountains as well.
My heart twisted at the uncertain fate of Clay and Gayle.
I shoved it aside to deal with later. For now, I studied my map of the foothills.
Small towns huddled at the Andeluith’s base—the lower classes, unable to afford to move into the mountain.
Under the threat of Vellos, I’d seen those villages emptied; those who lived there harbored deeper within the city.
I wondered if the opposite were true now.
“We have three Harvesters?” I set a stone on the map’s edge.
“Four accompanied us,” Fallione corrected.
“I want one placed at each of these villages.” With quick, jabbing motions, I pointed to the two smallest towns. “I need to know if there are Velli at the base or only in the city. How many, where they’re stationed. What the state of the manor is.”
“Consider it done.” He pushed off the hastily set-up table and disappeared into the crowd.
The Harvesters wouldn’t be far. My silent daggers in the night, they were more than assassins—they were spies who would hopefully slip beneath Tallon’s and Egath’s noses without detection.
Nienna stood beside me, spine rigid, hands clasped tight. When her gaze met mine, I knew she understood the gravity of Tallon’s position.
I bit down on my tongue, aware of ears straining too close. Our tent was being assembled behind us, but canvas was hardly soundproof.
Her cold fingers brushed my hand as she peered at the map, a quiet gesture of solidarity. I didn’t have to voice my concerns—or that I worried about Clay. She knew me.
“We cannot move until I know what’s in the Andeluith.” I shook my head, tracing the scrawled lines. “I will not send a messenger with the Velli there and risk welcoming one into my camp.”
Not when I wasn’t certain they had a Cruor. It would be a last resort, only if Tallon refused to come out to meet me on the plains.
Which wouldn’t surprise me.
“Why didn’t he flee Radaan?” she whispered, eyes scanning the distant mountains.
“He knows I won’t leave until I see him captured. Or dead.”
She hummed. “And he sees it as an opportunity to kill you?”
“I can’t imagine anything else.”
If Clay lived, he would try to use him against me.
Bile rose in my throat, heart slamming against my ribs. Elohios, could I watch my friend die for the sake of a nation? Knowing it was my doing? I had already lost Darius because of my recklessness. Between surrendering Radaan and Clay, I would have to choose Radaan. No other option existed.
But how much of me would survive that choice?
I bottled up my frustration, focusing on one step at a time. Once our tent was erected, we pulled the table inside. Greaves watched, his stare careful, scanning me for any sign of need.
When Fallione returned with Ronan, he informed me that the Harvesters would depart at sundown.
Time—the most precious commodity. And Tallon held the reserves.
We camped on the plains, with foothills between us. Our army was at a safe distance, dragons beyond the reach of his war machines.
But we were sitting out in the open. He holed up in Sol with enough stores to last for years. I had to lure him out—or get inside.
I couldn’t move without more information. My head pulsed with aggravation. I was stuck—and so close.
“I want Artorious in the clouds tonight.” Ronan dropped into a chair, glare fixed on my wife. “He’s dark enough to be mistaken for a shadow.”
“Would Tallon flank us?” Nienna asked, taking the seat next to me. “If he is hiding in Sol, there’s no reason to patrol the sky.”
“The closest pass is a day’s ride. All guarded with scouts on high alert,” Fallione said.
Sol. How deep had they delved?
“And those mountain tops are far too steep for Velli to climb.”
“The only thing capable of crossing the Craggs is the goats.” I pinched my nose. Sol went deep, tunnels growing with the populace. Would Tallon dig? Pull Vellos through the mountains?
“Gyrak can fly above it.”
“It’s too high.” Nienna’s rebuke cut sharp, earning a glare. “I’ll not risk Draconia’s heir to prove a point.”
“What about reconnaissance?” Ronan leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Use your dragons, Nienna.”
“They stay grounded until we hear from the Harvesters.” The finality in my voice silenced him. “We can’t rush into this. Tallon is trapped between us and an unforgiving range. He has nowhere to go.”
“And neither do you,” the prince quipped, gaze cutting to me. “Let me scout the Craggs. Watch the sky. You’re wasting power sitting here like a gull on the sea.”
Rage simmered in my bones. “I fought in these mountains for twenty years—longer than you’ve lived. Don’t pretend you’ll find a path I don’t know.”
“Twice my age,” he leaned forward, embers dancing at his fingertips, “and still you couldn’t control your son–”
“Prince Ronan,” Fallione bellowed, stepping between us. “See yourself out. Wait to be summoned by Queen Nienna.”
He slammed his chair back and stormed out.
“I’m going to kill him,” I muttered. “At this rate, it will be before Tallon.”
“He’s eager to fight.” She pressed her lips together, leaning closer to study the map.
“His only experience was burning the ships off our coast. He sees dragons as weapons and wants them used.” Her gaze searched mine, worry deepening the lines around her mouth.
“As do I. They stay grounded for now, but we would be remiss to keep them earthbound long.”
“Sol is the only place that can withstand dragonfire,” I said with a sigh. Whether Tallon planned it or Egath, they’d chosen well. Strategy favored patience.
“Don’t forget the riders.” She caught her lip between her teeth. “They match the Velli—you saw it during negotiations.”
“And if there are more than five in Sol?”
She shook her head. “There has to be a way to draw him out.”
“Tomorrow.” I sighed. “Tomorrow will tell.”
Regret and worry kept me awake. Not concerned over Tallon, but that I had dragged my wife and unborn child into this mess.
I would be pulled away. I couldn’t stay with her, not on the battlefield. But how could I leave her? How would I let her out of my sight, knowing monsters roamed Radaan’s plains?
She finally dozed in the darkest hour, the camp at its quietest. Her breaths stretched long and deep, brows twitching in sleep. Soft lips flinched in a frown, her arm stiffening. I eased my hold around her, careful not to influence her dream. Whatever haunted her mind would haunt me tenfold.
If a Cruor had reached Sol—if one somehow made it over the Craggs—it would be brutal.
The Call of Death echoed in my ears. The horn reserved for times those monsters appeared on the battlefield, dooming my soldiers. Disgust and guilt churned my stomach. I loathed that sound. More than anything, I didn’t want to raise that black horn.
If a Cruor made it to the fight, every bleeding man risked falling on his sword. It was unfair. Brutal. As a king, to order men to end their lives over a scratch—or a drop. That was all they needed to take control.
I learned early on how to shoulder the blame, to bear a widowmaker’s burden. When one appeared at Tal, we had to attack our friends—our brothers. Half our forces turned on us, driven by a single Velli’s influence. It was the only time the battle pushed back to our medics and encampment.
Claydon fought beside me that day, bloodied from fallen soldiers. He dropped his herbs to lift a sword. It surprised me how fast a nobleman in a medic’s apron adapted to the blade—but that day sealed our friendship.
And now he was at their mercy.
Steel clanged in the camp, voices murmuring in hushed conversation.
Greaves rolled over, his bedroll between ours and the door.
Stretching an arm above his head, he grimaced, easing his back.
His gaze met mine in silent understanding.
Neither of us wanted to stir from our rest, but duty called.
His eyes flicked to Nienna in my arms, and I swore his face softened, warming to her.
Without a word, he began stretching. Muscles bunched beneath his skin, lean and honed, not for show but from experience. Years of fighting trained more than his body—war sharpened his mind. He knew how to fight the Velli.
I drew a deep breath, lowering my eyes to Nienna. Her eyelids fluttered, brows knit in a fleeting frown. I rubbed a thumb between them, and a soft moan escaped her lips; she curled closer.
What would I do with her? How could I balance this need to protect her while still requiring her to manage the dragons and her brother?
“Morning.” Her mumble was thick with sleep, hair spilling over my arm as she pressed against my chest.
“I’m not sure we’ve passed the night,” I whispered. Darkness blanketed the camp, lanterns flickering along tent posts.
“You’re not sleeping,” she complained, draping a leg over my hip, tugging me closer.
I kissed her flaxen waves, inhaling the sea and water lilies. “I rested.”
“How is your beautiful mind supposed to maintain its brilliance without sleep?” She cupped my cheek, fingers playing in the short hair near my temples.
A chuckle rumbled through me, and I pressed my lips to her palm. “I’ll manage. But now I need to check on the men.”
Her eyes danced in the dim light. “And Fallione?”
I hummed my agreement.
“You all never sleep,” she grumbled.
“But you did.”
“Will you hold it against me?” She laughed, releasing me. “I can’t help it—you’re too comfortable.”
Greaves snorted, tugging his tunic over his head, and she twisted to grin at him as he tightened his belt.
His brows raised, smirk angled my way. “Told you—you’re getting soft.”