Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
Nienna
My throat was raw. From the screaming, from that tube—I would eat until I threw up if it kept Tallon from shoving that contraption back down my throat.
I slept from sheer exhaustion. Dreamless, hollow sleep, haunting me even in the faint stirrings of consciousness.
When I woke, Tallon dressed me once again in the translucent red fabric, a mockery of a dress that left my skin burning with shame beneath its gauzy threads. I had no strength left to fight it. My body betrayed me before my will could form.
“Why are you waiting?” I asked, my voice brittle, as the servant pinned my blonde strands in place.
Tallon only arched a brow, urging me to elaborate.
“I’m a womb, a tool,” I said. “Deimos wants a child born of his special Velli and the Dragon’s Heart. So why wait?” My words were sharper than I felt.
He smirked, a lock of hair falling across his face. “Do you really want me that bad? Was my father such a poor lay, leaving you unsatisfied?”
“Your father was a Velli spy who never graced my sight.”
“But Kallias raised me as his own!” He laughed, leaning back on the bed, studying me as if I were no more than an intriguing specimen.
“Truth be told, I don’t relish the idea of bedding you.
But,” he feigned a heavy sigh, “it’s a burden I must bear.
We’re watching for your cycle, and when the time comes, I shall do my duty, and you will serve your purpose. ”
And when I never cycled because my womb was already filled? What then? They would cleanse me. And I would lose my babe. Kallias would lose his only heir. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I held them at bay.
“Don’t look so excited. It should come soon, then all this will be over.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “And look on the positive side… Deimos says I’m not to toy with you while you carry my child.”
“Tallon, do you really believe he’ll just give you Radaan?” A bitter laugh escaped me. “He wants to rule the known world, and you think he will let you have your own kingdom?”
“Some of us know how to keep our treaties.” He winked, the gesture meant to rile me.
I ignored it.
“Vellos broke theirs.”
He blinked, caught off guard.
“Come, the king is joining us tonight.” Egath interrupted, pushing the door open.
Tallon paused, weighing my words, humming softly. Then he offered his arm, guiding me once again toward the dining hall. Panic coiled in my stomach, and I shoved it down into a bottle. They needed me. They had to keep me alive—or I was worthless.
“Ah, Nienna. You’re looking much better.” Deimos greeted me, kicking back his chair with a casual arrogance, patting his thigh.
Repulsion rippled through me, a visceral wave I masked with an iron facade. My hand fell from Tallon’s arm as if it burned, and I sauntered over to the king, settling into my seat with deliberate composure.
Tallon didn’t like that.
He bared his teeth in a forced smile, ignoring any pretense of courtesy, before taking his seat with rigid tension. Egath offered the practiced Velli bow, neck exposed, before joining the Radaanian traitor.
“I must say, you keep your people motivated to stay alive.” I cleared my throat, rubbing the thick collar.
“An unfortunate situation, but as you can see, it’s quite convincing.” He smiled, then lifted a glass of wine and offered it to me.
A king—offering his drink? The audacity. Tallon’s jaw tightened, subtle but undeniable. He hated it.
I drank, lips wet with the wine’s warmth, and handed it back. “Thank you. I was parched.”
Deimos chuckled, tilting the cup so his mouth pressed where mine had been, gaze fixed on Tallon—daring him, almost teasing him, begging the boy to make a move.
“Are you settling in?” he asked, setting the wine aside. His attention drifted to my lips, then lingered there. “Do you need anything?”
“I could do with some fresh air.” I smiled, imagining the sky above, wind tugging at my hair. The thought of being seen, making myself visible to Kallias—even from a distance—made my pulse stutter.
“A walk through the gardens? Perhaps a stroll through the city? Now, that wouldn’t be safe for you, dear Dragon’s Heart.”
“Are your cities so untamed that civilians cannot walk without fearing for their lives?” I loathed how his focus lingered on my mouth. When his lips brushed my shoulder, every nerve sparked to recoil. I held still.
“Oh, it’s not you I fear for.” He tilted his head, peering at me from the corner of his eye as a sly grin formed. “What are you?”
I returned a polite smile, shifting toward his knee, careful to stay away from his lap. “Nienna Draconis. Queen of Radaan. The Dragon’s Heart.”
He let my words hover in the air, testing me. Did he expect more? Did he wish me to stumble, to falter? Had I omitted some significant detail? Sea beneath, what amused him so?
“You don’t know, do you?” His grin spread, baring his teeth before he dragged them across my skin, careful not to snag. “You truly have no idea.”
I bit down on fear, trying to steady my racing pulse. Draconis. Queen. Dragon’s Heart. Nothing more, nothing less.
He barked out a laugh, surprised by my composure. In a swift motion, he grabbed my waist, hauling me against his chest and settling me fully in his lap.
“I’d wondered—and what a pleasant surprise.” With a flick of his wrist, he raised his glass, signaling a toast. Every Velli rose theirs in answer. “To our future. May Kallias Sunspear rot on the other side of the Craggs!”
Cheers reverberated through the dining hall. Deimos handed me the wine again, like a child being coaxed. “Drink, Nienna. You don’t want to make me angry.”
Oh, but I did. I wanted to see him crack, to witness the arrogant demeanor crumble, to watch his head roll beneath a blade. More than anything, I wanted Deimos Daggerteeth, King of Vellos, to break. Yet I could do nothing.
So I drank. The wine hit my lips, burned my throat as I swallowed, and I returned the glass to the table.
“To the future,” I murmured.
He drew my head close, mouth grazing my ear. I tensed, ready to strike—
But he just whispered, “Very good.”
Tallon was raging. I had never seen him drunk before—but he was the type to burn hot and quick. All through dinner, I’d perched on Deimos’ lap, pretending to be the perfect pet, my voice sharp with teasing, lacing every word with mock obedience, coaxing the king and his court into amused smiles.
Kallias had been right—they didn’t lust as we did.
While Deimos’ hands trailed over my body, while he whispered endearments into my ear, I felt the intent behind it.
Not hunger, nor desire—only the thrill of provocation.
He wanted to rile Tallon, and it worked.
The boy’s fury was easy to read, worn openly like a banner.
Where had the cold, calculating boy of Radaan gone?
The one who measured, who weighed every glance and word?
Now he bared jealousy in raw, burning lines, letting it radiate through the room.
He didn’t want me—he craved my title, the authority that tethered me.
He wanted power made visible, to lead me around, to have me obey his every whim.
And when I sat with Deimos, all that visibility, that influence, slipped from him.
The Vellos king might play fair—but he wasn’t here to protect Tallon. He was goading him into action to cause a breach, a spark to shatter the treaty, leaving Radaan vulnerable and the bastard prince—and his seed—pawns for the taking.
Tallon’s grasp on my arm was brutal. I clenched my jaw against the pain, waiting for the moment he shoved me into my room to jerk from his hold.
The door slammed open. He dragged me inside. But before I could twist away, his grip tightened.
“You’ve been bold tonight,” he muttered, breath thick with wine.
His fingers curled around the key that dangled from the chain on his neck. All thought bled from my mind when he slid it into the lock at the hollow of my throat.
Cold metal parted. The collar loosened with a faint scrape, and then it was gone. Coolness kissed the bruised flesh, brushing against raw indentations where iron had pressed without mercy. The sensation stole my breath. My lungs expanded deeper. My shoulders dropped without permission.
Relief washed through me—sharp, aching, almost painful in its sweetness.
Then dread followed.
No collar meant no barrier.
No barrier meant access.
He let the iron circlet dangle from his hand before tossing it onto the table with a dull clang. The sound echoed through the room like a verdict.
“Egath, tie her up.”
My heart sank into my stomach. I stepped backward, searching for space. I couldn’t do this yet—I wasn’t ready. Solid steel pressed into my belly, cold and purposeful. I wrapped my arms around myself, hiding the smuggled blade.
“She has to be in good health to conceive a child,” Egath warned, striding toward the bed, his gaze assessing.
When? When should I strike?
“If she can lie back and spread her legs, she can conceive,” Tallon growled, hands dropping to his belt.
I lunged, swinging the knife in a blur, slashing a blind arc as I sped for the door.
Tallon roared, but I didn’t pause to see where the blade had landed.
It was dull, shallow, incapable of real damage.
My bare feet slapped against the dark floor as I hurtled around the corner.
Lungs starved, body trembling, I ran—for my life, for the life of my unborn child.
The corridors twisted, an endless labyrinth, but I refused to slow.
A solid arm snared my waist, lifting me off my feet. I screamed, twisting like an eel, teeth sinking into flesh, nails clawing at the grip. Egath grunted, pressing me against the wall, his body heavy and unyielding as it pinned me in place.
“Now he’ll be worse,” he muttered, holding my arms tight. “As much as I love your fire, he hates it. Stop taunting him.”
I writhed, desperate to drive a knee into his groin, to bite, to fight. “Let me go, and I will!”