Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
Nienna
“This is Nanny!” The girl squealed, lifting a small puff of a goat. Long white hair stood on its end, static and wild, two narrow ears jutting through the fluff at crooked angles that made the poor thing look perpetually startled.
“Bred for the hair, no doubt.” I laughed and reached down to pet the creature. The wool was dense beneath my palm, lanolin and hay clinging to my skin. Its mouth split open in a piercing bleat, sharp as a kettle’s shriek, and I jerked back with a cringe.
“That means she likes you!” The girl hugged the fluff to her chest, rocking on her heels, pride glowing across her face.
“And this is Llewellyn!” Another goat was thrust toward me, a spotted brown and white kid with delicate legs and a twitching pink nose.
“Lewelin?” I repeated, rolling the name around my mouth.
“No, Llewellyn!” The child shrieked, laughter bursting from her like birds scattering. “She’s going to be our herd matriarch. Our main doe!”
“She’s beautiful.” I studied the creature while I spoke. One eye glimmered blue as glacier ice. The other burned yellow—late harvest wheat. Horizontal pupils tracked my every shift, calm yet alert, a quiet calculation behind them.
I wasn’t about to try that name again.
A few steps away, a little black kid pawed at the stone. I crouched and tilted my head, examining the blue sheen in his eyes. He snorted, sharp and indignant, reminding me of a sassy dragonling in the Nest.
“And who’s this?”
“He doesn’t have a name.” The girl dropped beside me, wrapping her arms around the black buckling’s sturdy middle. “He was a stray we took in when the siege started.” She turned saucer-wide eyes on me, teeth flashing in a grin that showed a missing incisor. “You name him!”
I frowned at the kid, pressing my lips together. His coat was sleek—and far warmer than the wind that skimmed the mountain paths. “But what if he already has one?”
“Then you’ll come up with something better. Anyone would be honored to have a goat named by Queen Nienna.”
Off to the side, Fallione stood with his lips pressed tight, a smirk fighting to break free. Amusement lingered in the set of his shoulders. He enjoyed this far too much.
I had expected resistance when I proposed walking the secured levels, mingling with the outer rings of Sol. Instead, he agreed. With guards stationed and my brother nearby, it was safe enough. As long as I remained within reach of dragon shadow and flame, my presence could serve its purpose.
Bring hope to the people.
Pebbles skittered across our path. Above us, Tsunami crouched along the marble edge, claws biting into pale rock, tail spearing toward the Andeluith’s peak. A low snort drifted down, warm and sulfur-tinged. Her eyes narrowed at the goats before flaring wide with intrigue.
“Dragonbait,” I said, laughter slipping through.
Tsunami answered with a croon, adjusting her grip. The black buckling lifted his chin and bleated straight at her. She recoiled, nostrils flaring as if offended by his audacity.
The mountain paths wound on. I walked with a steady stride while Tsunami took to the air, shadow sweeping over us before she lost interest and glided toward the peaks.
Goats bounded beside me, hooves clicking against stone.
Kids launched themselves from ledges and walls, landing with reckless delight.
They pranced along the parapets, inches from a lethal drop, joy outweighing fear.
Children trailed behind me, laughter bright as chimes.
Bodies still lined the streets.
No curtain hid them. No illusion softened the sight.
Blood stained gray and white stone in dark blooms, copper thick in the air where the sun struck it.
The scent clung to the back of my throat.
Sol endured. Her people endured. They just needed a reason to find the spark of hope, nothing more, and they would build a blaze from it. Revel in it.
Only the lowest two levels still fought. Fallione had assured me the clashes were scattered skirmishes, not full battle. Kallias had cleared the majority the day before.
Only the interior remained.
Clay or Gayle would have guided me through it with easy familiarity, pointing out hidden corridors and overlooked shrines, teasing me into laughter. Instead, I endured Fallione’s restraint and Kallias’ suffocating vigilance.
“It’s the queen!”
A knot of children broke from two older women and rushed us, bows half-formed before they dragged their friends into a game.
“Your Majesty.” The women curtsied low. “It’s an honor to see you out.”
“So soon after the battle,” one added.
I glanced at the young ones skidding marbles across the ground. “And yet, you let them play.”
“The streets are safer than the Heart.” She tossed a dark braid over her shoulder. “But no place is safer than the manor.”
“I am Draconis. Beneath sky and dragon, nothing can harm me.” I brushed past them.
Others had welcomed me with open arms, despite yesterday’s horror. They were the first to question my sanity for walking among them.
Kneeling on cold stone, I joined the little ones in their marble game. Glass spheres clicked and scattered, cool against my fingertips. I dragged my brother into it, persuading him to stand at my side against the children of Sol. His groan drew excited giggles.
The sun slid past its zenith. Midday found us inside a widow’s narrow home, air thick with baking bread and steeped herbs.
We ate coarse slices slathered in butter freckled with rosemary and garlic.
It melted across my tongue, rich and grounding.
Fallione and Ronan remained while guards waited outside.
The final bite had barely left my mouth when I heard it.
A distant call. Soldier greeting king.
Once, that sound filled me with anticipation. Now it tightened something fragile inside my chest. Would he scold me? Rebuke me for walking among his people? Drag me back to the manor like an errant child?
Kallias stepped through the open door. His face held careful neutrality. The smile he offered the widow stopped short of warmth. Armor gleamed in the sunlight pouring from behind him, polished clean of last night’s blood. Metal caught the light in hard flashes.
Then his gaze found me.
A storm churned in his eyes, dark and volatile. Anger lived there. Hurt festered deeper, raw and unguarded. One wrong word would drown me.
I had caused it. The certainty settled heavy in my gut. And that knowledge—it made me feel so small.
“Prince Ronan, see to your dragons.”
A dismissal.
My heart rejected my brother’s absence, and he hesitated before slipping out. The space shrank. I hated the way I latched onto Ronan’s comfort instead of my husband’s. We fought more than we agreed, but his departure made it seem as if he’d left me with a stranger.
“Your Majesty.” Marie, the widow, pushed herself upright, frail hands braced on the table. Veins mapped her thin skin. Wisps of gray hair lifted in the draft. “Would you like some tea?”
She had lost her grandson when Tallon overthrew Sol. She spoke of him without tears, voice steady as worn stone. Loss had carved her hollow and left resilience behind.
“Yes, please.” Kallias took the small wooden chair. It creaked beneath his weight.
Greaves hovered near the door, eyes scanning the dim hall beyond.
“It will be but a moment.” Marie reached for her cane and shuffled toward the corridor.
“Let me help.” I rose halfway from my seat.
“No.”
His word struck like a gavel.
Heat crawled up my neck. I lowered myself back into the chair, spine stiff, palms flat against my skirts. Silence thickened between us.
Marie’s steps faded.
Kallias turned his gaze on Fallione, sharp enough to cut. “The mountainside is not secured, yet you parade Radaan’s queen beneath an open sky, in full view of our enemies?”
The air shifted. Even the scent of rosemary seemed to fade with the magnitude of his fury.
Fallione ducked his head and accepted the blame with smooth precision. “Apologies, my king.”
Kallias wasn’t angry at his advisor.
“I’m right here,” I hissed through clenched teeth. Only Greaves and Fallione stood witness. They could suffer seeing us at odds.
“I’ll deal with you later.”
The words struck harder than a slap. My head snapped back as if he had laid a hand on me. He probably used that tone on Eldeiade. Cool. Dismissive. Hiding behind his authority instead of addressing the issue.
“You will deal with me now.” My palm met the table with a crack. I leaned across the worn wood, close enough to see the faint scar on his jaw. “If you have a grievance, you speak to me. You don’t take it out on our staff.”
He tilted his head, slow and deliberate, turning his body until he faced me fully. A dragon sighting prey. “Now is not the time.” Each word landed with controlled force.
“When will it be, Kallias? After you retake the Heart? After another skirmish? Shall you ignore me until then? Leave me beneath the stars instead of in your bed? Let your friend wash the blood from your skin while your wife waits outside the door?”
“Silence!” His face flushed, color climbing his neck.
Fallione stood unmoving, carved from stone, enduring the tidal crash.
Kallias’ lip twitched, as if suppressing a snarl. “You know not what you speak of.”
“You let me walk away.” My tone fell, and I forced the pain in my heart to steep into every word. “You didn’t fight for me.”
“I’d been fighting all day, Nienna!” His fist slammed into the table.
Porcelain rattled. Tea sloshed against thin cups.
“I needed you where I told you to be. You mocked my command. You undermined my role before the entire army. All of Sol saw you defy your king. Then you ignored my warning and walked into the city with a rider untrained against the Velli, and one of my men died for it. Tell me, was I meant to beg your forgiveness after I begged the widow Fiona for hers? For your actions?”
The room tilted. My vision flooded, and I shoved to my feet.
“Sit.”
“No.”