Chapter 65 #3
That wound was the worst. Shallow, barely worth stitches, yet the memory beneath it throbbed like an infected bruise. I hadn’t fought him. I allowed it. How far would it have gone? I would’ve let Egath hold me for another man. Would he have stopped at blood? Shame curdled thick in my veins.
Tears streaked my temples into the moss, and I managed a weak nod.
His palms settled on my knees, and his thumbs traced slow circles, massaging with tender caresses. The touch crept higher with patience, easing over the laces. He loosened them and tugged at the waistband.
Breath locked in my chest as I lifted my hips.
Cloth slid down my legs and pooled in the moss. The bandage around my thigh remained clean, stark against bruised flesh.
But the things it hid…
Gentle fingers peeled it away. He knew looking at the dressing wasn’t enough. No, he needed to see the brutal scabs that lined the cut, how the skin puckered against the neat stitches. Raw ache pulsed there, ugly and undeniable. Only he could ease it.
His fingertips hovered just outside the seam. A whirlstorm gathered in his irises, hatred sparking beneath their surface. His mouth tightened, brows drawn low with restrained fury.
“Who did this?”
He knew. He knew—and still, he asked, giving me the dignity of speaking it.
“The king of Vellos.”
“Tell me his name.”
My eyes closed as I rested my head against the damp moss, its cool scent rising around me. “Deimos.”
Deimos with sharp, elongated teeth and silken court games. The monster I thought I could outmaneuver in his own palace of marble and shadow. The king I believed I could wield like a blade, blind to the truth that I was the one balanced along his edge.
“He wanted you. Your blood, your body.”
“It was a game.” The words broke apart as they left me. My hand flew to my mouth, stifling the sound. A performance of want, painted in pretend lust.
“I was there, Nienna.” Kallias’ voice roughened, something feral beneath it.
“I saw his body over yours, rutting like livestock before a crowd. His desire was not singular.” His fingers tightened around my knee as his mouth brushed my hip, breath warm against tender skin before moving inward. “He would have taken far more.”
The rough scrape of his jaw followed the curve of my thigh, kissing a slow path from the wound’s crown to its tail, circling my calf before traveling upward again. Heat lingered in his wake. His palm settled beneath my navel, broad and steady.
“But he didn’t. I came. He did not steal what was yours, what is ours.”
It hadn’t happened. My body was my own. This temple was mine.
It was damaged and broken—but cracked stone could be rebuilt.
And I would rebuild. I would become more beautiful for the scars that littered my flesh.
They were a testament to what I’d endured, what I could endure.
No, they were not weakness. They were record. A show of strength.
He braced himself above me, weight balanced on his forearms. When I blinked through tears, he held my gaze.
“You are your own. Your heart. Your soul.” His voice lowered, conviction steady as bedrock.
“Does wine lose value because it’s poured into clay?
Is grain worth more coin because it’s wrapped in gold thread?
” The fury in his face eased, something gentler shaping his mouth.
“You are so much more than a treaty, more than a kingdom. More than every star scattered across the night. Whoever you choose to share yourself with is blessed beyond measure.”
A sob tore free, fierce and raw. He made it sound so simple. As if shame were nothing more than dust brushed from skin. The filth I carried dissolved beneath his words, burned away like a shadow under full sun.
My hands framed his face and pulled him down to me.
His arms circled tight but careful, lowering his weight with deliberate restraint, mindful of bruises and stitches. Our lips met under the hush of moonlight, soft and reverent, healing wounds I could only begin to understand.
The Heart of Sol blinded me.
Kallias led the way into the cavernous city, fingers entwined with mine, tugging me forward.
What had once been dark and colorless now blazed with mirrored sunlight.
When I last stepped into the Andeluith, silence had pressed against the stone like a tomb.
But today, laughter ricocheted off the towering walls, children’s shrieks weaving through the warm murmur of conversation. The whole space thrummed with life.
“It’s so much brighter,” I murmured, clutching his arm as light fractured across white stone. Ghosts of failure brushed the edges of my thoughts, thin as cobweb silk, but the smile he gave me scattered them.
“The mirrors have been repaired.” He guided me toward a small iron cage suspended from a system of pulleys high above, embedded in pale rock.
A shudder slipped down my spine. One tremor, a single fracture in that ceiling, and the mountain would swallow us whole. Beauty or not, who chose to live beneath thousands of tons of stone?
“They draw sunlight from the surface. Some even grow crops, though hauling compost this far costs dearly.” The cage descended to our level, guided by a long iron rod fixed into the wall.
My gaze tracked the thick chains and metal lattice curling along its sides before lifting to the pulley again. “Are there no stairs?”
“You’ll soar on dragonback for days, yet a lift unsettles you.” His voice dipped, amusement warming his tone.
I glanced at the nearby soldiers and craftsmen. I had more faith in dragons than in the hands of men—but that confession stayed locked behind my teeth. For now.
When he left solid ground for the iron platform, metal rang with the impact, chains rattling above. He moved toward the center and held out his hand.
If Kallias, who despised heights, could endure it, so could I. Fear would not rob me of this city.
I stepped onto the platform, and it trembled under my weight, a hollow pulse that rolled through my stomach. Instinct shifted me backward, ready to retreat, but his arm circled my waist and steadied me.
“Easy.” His voice brushed my hair.
A guard swung the wrought-iron door shut. The latch snapped into place with a decisive clang.
Then the descent began.
The lift jerked. My fingers fisted into his overcoat. Chains scraped and ground against stone, a shrill protest that echoed through the cavern as we lowered toward the city.
I twisted for a better view, clinging to him while drinking in the sight below.
So white. Pristine surfaces gleamed as though carved from pearl, sunlight bouncing in sharp angles that forced a squint. Banners unfurled in bold pops of color against the pale expanse, house sigils rippling in the warm currents of air.
“It’s beautiful.” The words left me in a hushed breath.
He didn’t look at the city. His gaze rested on me, studying my reaction. Regret softened his expression, deepening the line between his brows. “I should’ve brought you here before.”
My shoulders sank. Queenly posture slipped away until it was only us in a swaying cage, drifting toward the ground.
“I shouldn’t have forced my way in. I should have waited.” The confession scraped. Old arguments surfaced, the harsh edges of pride and misunderstanding that had divided us before my capture.
But he was right. It needed to be said.
“I’ve made so many mistakes.” His voice roughened, and his palm cupped my cheek, thumb tracing the scar there. “I didn’t pause to hear your side. Like a bull, I charged ahead and denied you space to stand beside me. I treated you no better than a commoner instead of my equal.”
“And I was too hot-headed, determined to make you see those failures.” A breath of laughter escaped me. “The blame is not one-sided, Kallias. I entered the Heart without you. And in doing so, I endangered you and your men. I let my boldness drown out your wisdom and caution.”
The severity in his face eased, but those fine lines deepened at the corners of his eyes. “You’re more dragon than you realize.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “A queen forged from dragonfire and sunshine.”
I rested my head against his chest, and cool chains of gold pressed into my cheek. This was us. We spoke. We listened. Trials had tested our connection again and again, yet what we built endured, burnished by hardship until it shone brighter.
The beat of his heart thumped against my ear, tugging my lips into a grin. He was my anchor. I was his storm.
As the lift neared the ground, movement below caught my eye. A sea of bodies stretched beneath us, pressing close, voices rising in eager waves. I stepped away from him, but my hair snagged in the chain of his mantle.
A startled gasp slipped free. One hand cradled the back of my head while the other worked at the tangled strands.
“I remember another time like this,” he murmured.
A scoff escaped me. “I won’t make it a habit.”
Freed at last, I leaned into composure and inspected my mantle. It had been crafted in haste to replace the one Tallon destroyed. Dragonscales draped across my shoulders, fine chains crossing my chest to secure it.
It felt like home.
The lift struck ground with a heavy jolt. My knees buckled, but his arm tightened around me before I could falter.
Guards pressed the crowd back from the cage. The towering levels of Sol rose above us, vast and gleaming, their white walls reflecting cheers that rolled like thunder. For a moment I felt so tiny beneath it all—insignificant—an ant ready to be crushed.
I took the king’s arm and stepped forward.
Faces split wide with smiles. Eyes shone with fierce hope despite the line of guards. Laughter bubbled from me as goats darted between boots, small kids leaping and knocking against startled shins.
Chin high, Kallias guided me through the streets. Packed earth coated the well-worn paths in brown, but walls and columns gleamed like polished pearls.
This immense, cavernous city was more than housing.
Though he gestured toward sprawling apartment blocks that sheltered hundreds, this place bore the mountain’s very pulse—its life flow.
The scent of roasting meat drifted thick and savory through the air, threaded with exotic spices.
Beneath it lingered sweetness, honey and baked grain, enough to stir a low growl from my stomach.
From above, Sol appeared as a blank shell. At street level it lived and breathed. Bright curtains fluttered in windows. Vivid banners cascaded down walls. Massive tapestries cloaked entire alleys, goat hair woven into intricate scenes of dramatic peaks and mountain ranges.
With each step, the past loosened its grip. I’d never forget it—Vellos left scars on flesh and heart alike. Those jagged edges would never vanish. Yet walking here, beside Kallias, through a city that welcomed and adored us, it made it all bearable.
I found peace once again.
Something soft collided with my calf.
I lifted my foot clear, laughter spilling out at the sight of a tiny golden kid glaring up at me. Blue eyes blinked. Long ears flicked. It bleated in fierce protest.
“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty!” A woman pushed through the crowd, glancing nervously at the guards as she scooped up the goat. “Since the siege, they’ve run amok in our streets.”
“Where is its dam?” I asked, waiting until she cradled it to her chest before stroking the downy hair.
A shadow crossed her features. “Too many lost their mothers. We brought the orphans into our homes and down to the Heart. Bottle-fed them. Seems they believe the city belongs to them.” She tapped its nose with fond exasperation. “No respect.”
The kid burrowed into her faded green dress. Alone once, now sheltered within the mountain’s belly.
“Scythe,” I murmured.
That little creature had everything it knew on the surface ripped away, but down here it gained something more. It was loved and adored. Cared for and cherished. Much like I had been when I first arrived in Radaan. I lost a friend, but gained a kingdom.
“Her name will be Scythe.” Authority rang clear in my voice as I smiled at the fuzzy animal.
The goat turned its delicate head and bleated as if in agreement.
“She will be blessed. Thank you, Your Majesty.” The woman bowed before retreating into the crowd. Those nearby leaned close to stroke the animal, joy bright in their expressions before their gazes lifted back to me.
I slipped my hand into Kallias’. Pride warmed his features, cornflower-blue eyes alight with quiet triumph as he led me deeper into Sol.
Into the heart of Radaan.
Our kingdom.The end.