Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Kallias
“Where is she?!” The Prince of Draconia slammed his fist onto the map before me, the impact rattling the table.
I stared down at the sprawling web of streets in the Heart of Sol, tunnels snaking like veins across the parchment, my vision blurring under the strain of blind rage.
Calm. Where would they take her?
“This is your fault! If you hadn’t brought us–”
“It was your dragon who turned on us!” My head whipped toward Ronan, fury slipping through my control like water through clenched fingers. “The blame does not rest solely on my shoulders!”
His lip curled in a sneer as he bent over the map, leaning closer, the scent of blood and smoke clinging to him. “She wouldn’t be here if not for you.”
My fist collided with his nose. Pain ricocheted through my knuckles as Ronan spun away, crimson spraying across the war room like a macabre signature.
I had no time to argue, no mental energy to squander correcting a child. I was without an advisor, down a general, and Greaves clung to life by the bare will of the gods.
And Nienna was lost in a labyrinth.
“If your dragons can’t help, see yourself out.” My tone was cold, flat, even. Fear and grief rattled the box I caged them in, threatening to spill over. I shoved them aside. I needed discipline. Calculations. Tactics.
Emotions would not rule me.
Ronan sniffed, swallowing what had to be a mouthful of blood, then collapsed into a chair, tilting his head back. “They could.”
“Could?” I repeated, the single word cracking the haze that clouded my mind.
He scoffed, swiping at his nose, then smearing the blood across his trousers. “It’s worthless—she doesn’t even know.”
“Know what? Spit it out, Ronan. I’ll take any aid I can get.”
“Nienna doesn’t know because I never told her. I was too selfish.” He spat on the floor, a dark splatter landing near his boot. “She’s the Dragon’s Heart, you fool. Don’t you grasp that?”
“She was raised in their nest.” My fingers twitched. Another vague answer and I would hurl him from the mountain.
“She is one of them!” His bitter laugh tore from his throat. “She’s connected to every dragon. Whenever she needed them, whenever she called, they answered. Gyrak is my dragon, but he would obey her before me. They all listen to her.”
“Then have them find her!” My palm slapped onto the map, shaking it as frustration clawed up my spine.
“She has to call them!” His frustration matched my own. “It’s not like they hear her every thought! She has to reach through the bond, and then they hear her. That’s why Tsunami always comes when she’s in danger—she calls for her without knowing it!”
“Your sister can command every single dragon, and you never thought to tell her?!”
“No!” He lurched upright, fury spilling over, chair skidding to the floor. “She ordered my dragon around enough as it was. Do you really think I wanted her to recognize the power she held over him? She’s my sister!”
“You immature child.” I ground my teeth. This would’ve been over in an instant. Without thought or hesitation. If Nienna summoned the dragons, we would discover exactly where she was. Yet some boy, afraid his pet would prove more loyal to her, chose silence over truth.
“You think I don’t realize that?” His roar bounced against the stone walls, echoing with his dragon in the distance.
“She has to know.” My head shook, tainted with disbelief. Nienna would have told me. She wouldn’t have kept this secret. How was she able to command the dragons without understanding the extent of her power?
“No,” Ronan said, tugging his hair, snagging the goggles perched there. “She doesn’t. She treats them like hatchmates. Family. Only by accident has she ever tapped into their magic. She can’t control it—not yet. That kind of discipline takes years of practice–”
I held up a hand, blood pumping through my veins. “Then have your dragons listen for her.”
“What do you think they’re doing?”
“Flying around attacking my men!”
Tsunami had turned on my forces. It hadn’t lasted long, but it gave me reason to fear.
“That was a freak accident! She’s wild! She got confused!”
“Did she?” I demanded. “Or was she controlled by the Velli? Did one of them snag her blood from somewhere and overtake her? Can you guarantee it didn’t happen?”
“They never would’ve gotten close enough!”
“They wouldn’t need to,” I hissed. “Your beast attacked her, remember? There was plenty of blood running through Radaan that day.”
Ronan’s skin drained to the hue of fresh snow, pupils widening in dawning horror.
“If I’m right, then Tsunami isn’t the only threat. Your black might turn on you.”
“Gyrak wouldn’t let it happen,” he whispered, horror caught in his throat.
“Do you want to take that risk?” I bared my teeth. “You were so scared your sister would claim Gyrak as her own. Could you endure a Velli twisting his mind against you? Can you bring down your own dragon?”
His jaw twitched, gaze dropping to the map. Blood trickled from his lip, dripping down his chin.
No. Even with magic coursing through his veins, the Prince of Draconia would not take that risk.
Dreadful acceptance settled into my bones. “At least we see eye-to-eye on that.”
The medical ward in the manor filled at a pace that defied sense, bodies stacking like broken dolls, moans and groans weaving through the halls.
Night had fallen, draping the mountain in a quiet stillness that felt sacred, yet held a lie.
It lay over us like a blanket, soft and suffocating, lulling the living into compliance.
For a moment, the illusion held: everything was fine, Nienna was tucked into her bed, Vellos didn’t wield a weapon capable of annihilating Radaan, and I was anything close to sane.
Whispers curled from the shadows. The corners of my vision teemed with movement, ghosts of grief that clawed and slithered. My chest constricted, ribs compressing to dust. Helplessness gnawed at my stomach, bile rising up my throat with each thought of Nienna.
My mind balanced on a blade, taut between disciplined control and the torrent of passion. I anchored myself in protocol, sinking into the familiar embrace of strategy and calculations. It was a realm I understood—the realm of a Warrior King.
I knew nothing about being a husband. No, that element was new.
That part of me, untested, raw and untrained.
Love demanded I command Ronan to ride over the Craggs, to burn Vellos to ash.
But desire for their safety—my wife, my unborn child—gnawed at me, a predator beneath my ribs, threatening to tear me apart.
They were mine, and yet here I sat, pinned to the edge of Clay’s bed, powerless. Useless.
My hands trembled, turning over in my lap. The shakes were not fear but restrained rage, coiled energy with no outlet, no target.
Peace would not come until Tallon’s blood coated these hands.
“Wake him.”
The Harvester blinked at me, a pause hanging like smoke between us, offering a chance to reconsider. I knew the risk—Clay’s body had barely begun to mend. Waking him now might kill him outright.
What was one more among those already at death’s door? Greaves fighting for every breath, Fallione lost.
I nodded once, final, irrevocable.
The Harvester produced a vial from his belt, the cork popping with a muted hiss. He cradled Claydon’s head, tipping the translucent green liquid into his mouth, the scent faintly acrid.
Clay’s body was still a mess of devastation. Bite wounds wept beneath rough cloth bindings, muscle and skin torn, knotted in crimson rags. But waiting was no longer an option.
His chest rattled as the liquid worked through him, lungs inflating with shaky breaths. His eyes snapped open, unseeing at first, fixed on the ceiling as if the world were suddenly new and terrifying.
I stiffened, ready to catch him should he lunge or collapse, muscles coiled for action. His chest stilled, his limbs tensing in disbelief at the miracle of breath. With a sudden whoosh, he exhaled, blinking against the lantern glow that flickered across the ward.
A small, almost apologetic smile tugged at my mouth when his gaze slid to mine at last. “Greetings, old friend. I need your help.”
“There. The tunnels run deepest there.” An ebony finger traced the twisting veins of Sol along the map.
“Though we had several shaft collapses here.” He paused, eyes narrowing, then swept a path to the opposite end.
“It was never proven, but I had my suspicions. I tripled the guard, though—there should’ve been an alarm. ”
“Vellos has been planning this.” I dragged a hand down my face, feeling the rough skin and the tension beneath.
Maps fanned across Clay’s lap, filling every inch of the bed like a chaotic atlas.
Gayle remained blissfully asleep, soft breathing rising and falling.
My gaze kept drifting to Greaves, lying pale and battered, tethered to life by sheer will.
A Harvester and healer hovered at his side.
His skull bore a jagged fracture, shoulder blades cracked, collarbone snapped in four, calf pierced clean through by a dragon’s claw.
The healer assured me that the break in speed was what spared him a sudden, merciless death.
Perhaps that might have been kinder.
“Then Vellos has a plan for her.” Clay exhaled, leaning back against pillows, eyes closing against his fatigue.
Guilt pressed into me, mingling with despair like a dense fog. I had forced him awake too soon. But I needed him. If I did this alone, I would falter. I was too weak, too uncertain. Too many had already been lost.
“Kallias, I’m sorry—”
I blinked, studying his sickly face.
“—Darius and I… we underestimated Tallon.”
“We all did.” I shook my head, voice tight. “I never imagined him capable of such treachery. Gods, I should have known better.”
“Then Fyrn… I don’t know what happened, where we went wrong.”
“The same is true of Tallon.” I sighed, letting the truth of it settle in my chest. “But I recognize my own failings. I spent too long hiding from Eldeiade, letting him take the brunt of her attention. I made myself available, yes, but I never sought him out. Ironic, that I now suffer for the sins of twenty years past.”
“You suffered then as well.” His eyes opened, pinning me in place with a clarity that cut through my guilt.
“We all saw it. You’ve suffered more than anyone.
Even here—look at us all.” A weak laugh rasped from his throat as he gestured at the wounded lying across the ward.
“We are at ease, knowing this is all we can do—but you? You bear this burden—willingly. Mightier men would’ve surrendered to such hardship long ago. ”
“It’s my fault you’re all here.” I scoffed, a bitter twist curling in my chest. “You and Gayle—if I hadn’t left–”
“Your kingdom would have perished the day you let her go.” Clay’s voice cut through me, firm despite weakness.
“You believe yourself to be selfish for chasing her, but has Elohios not blessed you this entire time? Is it not his will? She’s the best thing for Radaan, and you’ve always known it.
The moment you sensed even a glimmer of joy, you branded it wrong.
Kallias, do you think Elohios wishes you misery?
Is there a kingly scroll somewhere that decrees a monarch must suffer for feeling a measure of happiness? ”
I bristled at his rebuke, telling myself I let him get away with it because of the delirium clouding his mind. The Harvesters’ concoctions had left him fragile, disoriented.
“You’ve spent your life living for others, Kallias. Now it’s time to live—for her. We’ll get her back.”
“It’s not getting her back that I doubt.” My jaw clenched, muscles tight with unspent fury. “It’s what I will sacrifice to make it happen.”