Chapter Four
It was late when I finally retreated from the dining hall. Staggered might’ve been the appropriate term, but I clung to retain any shreds of my remaining dignity.
“Nienna!”
My brother’s voice flared something hot in my chest. I refused to slow, pushing toward our floor.
“Wait!”
“I don’t think I will, Ronan,” I snapped. “You didn’t.”
“Stop.” He hissed the word and snatched my arm.
I whirled, my palm cracking against his face. The sound echoed down the Cireendium’s stone corridor.
“You stupid wench!” he snarled, grabbing for my wrist.
“Don’t call me that!”
I jerked against his grip, but he held it fast, blue eyes blazing. A handprint bloomed across his cheek, filling me with a wicked sense of satisfaction.
“Then stop acting like one! I came to help you!”
Voice low and venomous, I leaned in close. “I don’t want your help!”
He could go fly around on his dragon, play his games, make his hot-headed impulsive decisions and pretend nobody ever bled for it. I wanted no part of that world.
“Too bad.”
He bent at the waist, slamming into my stomach, wrenching my battered body over his shoulder like a bag of sand.
A strangled squeal slipped out as I choked off a scream, driving my fists into him. He grunted, legs stretching into long strides up the path.
I clawed at his jacket, yanked the hem loose, and dug my nails into his back. Pale flesh split from the sting of my grip, drawing blood. My fingers still ached from gripping Gyrak’s scales, but they didn’t falter now.
“Sea beneath!”
Ronan pinched my thigh—hard—and I drove my nails deeper.
“Put me down!”
“Will you listen to me?!”
“No!”
He swatted back at my hands, but couldn’t dislodge me. His pace broke into a run, charging toward our floor. I tore red welts up his skin, fighting with the only teeth and claws I had.
He kicked through my door, barreled for the chaise, and threw me down. I landed in a heap beside Freya, who scrambled upright, eyes flicking between us.
“Out!” Ronan barked.
“No! He’s just leaving.” My lip curled with a snarl. “He knows his sister needs time to recover after being dragged across the sea on a spontaneous four-day flight. And she’s not a rider!”
“I walked in on a man Father’s age groping–”
“Leave!” I lunged at him, shrieking.
He caught my wrists and shoved me back toward the chaise with ease. Ridiculously strong. Freya took that as her cue and bolted out the door, leaving me and my brother locked in a silent war, both breathing like cornered beasts.
His chest heaved. Red blurred my vision.
He opened his mouth. I hurled an embroidered pillow at his face.
“Don’t you dare say a word, Ronan! You have no idea what you stole from me!”
His grimace showed more pain than defiance. “I didn’t know you loved the old man. Not that it would’ve made it better!”
“He’s not old!”
“He could be your father!”
I shut the door to my thoughts, retreating behind walls he had no right to breach. I didn’t need to fight him, and I owed him no explanation. He had his chance to understand and spat on it. Let him believe whatever he wanted. It changed nothing.
I rose and crossed the room, flinging open the balcony doors. Warm wind shoved past me, lifting the curtains in soft waves. I wrapped my arms around myself and leaned on the rail.
Above, the stars burned. The same stars that hung over Radaan.
Was Kallias staring at them now?
My soul reached for the starlight, searching for him. That quiet, intangible connection. Whatever we had, Ronan shattered it. My heart ached with the loss, as if something vital had been ripped out.
My brother stood just out of arm’s reach, gazing skyward. A dragon’s shadow blotted out the stars for a breath.
Gyrak. Probably circling to come to his rider’s aid.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.” His words held weight—mourning and regret carved into every syllable.
But an apology couldn’t fix this. It wouldn’t undo what he’d done or return me to Kallias’ arms.
“Don’t you see how wrong it was?” he asked, voice quiet, pleading.
Wrong.
The word struck like a dart. I rejected it, pushing it aside.
I loved Kallias. He was loyal, strong, good. Someone like him, the love I had for him—it couldn’t be wrong.
Cursed, maybe. Doomed. Star-crossed.
But not wrong.
He sighed before trying again. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness–”
“You’d never get it.”
“Abyss, let me finish! I never meant to hurt you. I reacted and–”
“You gave in to your temper, your dragon doing nothing to steady you,” I hissed.
Angry tears burned trails down my cheeks.
“You weren’t a prince—or a rider. You were a child.
And because of that, you failed to analyze the situation.
You didn’t stop. Tallon used you like a hammer to a nail, and you let him. ”
“Quite the accusation coming from a princess bedding her betrothed’s father.” His gaze darkened. “Did you ever analyze what you risked by welcoming that beast into your arms?”
I had. A thousand times. I told myself why I couldn’t, shouldn’t. And yet, the pull remained. We were meant for each other, two halves of a whole. We saw the world the same. Understood duty. I was just born in the wrong generation.
“I love him.”
“Loved.”
“Love,” I bit out. “You can’t kill something like that, no matter how far you drag me away.”
“Listen to me, Nienna.”
He stepped closer, and I turned on him, fire rising in my throat. If he dared lay a finger on me, I would murder him. A screech split the sky, and a dragon streaked overhead. Green scales shimmered so close I could’ve reached out and touched them.
Ronan tracked the beast, then returned his attention to me.
“I love you. I know you think you care for him, but I… I don’t—can’t—understand that.
” He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, the light from my room catching on the shadows under his eyes.
Proof his body was still recovering from the flight too.
“I couldn’t live with myself if I left you there. Maybe I judged too harshly, but I don’t think I was wrong. As a rider, I have to do what I believe is right. We’ll never see eye-to-eye on this, but I want you to know it came from love.”
He licked his lip, flexing his jaw as he stared at me, waiting for my understanding, for grace.
He craved to uphold his own honor, but he never gave thought to mine.
No, he dragged me through the halls with a torn dress.
Hauled me like some scullery maid caught in scandal.
Let every passing eye judge what he didn’t care to protect.
He humiliated me.
That wasn’t love.
His brow furrowed, lips pulled into contemplation, arms crossed tight as he glanced out to sea.
“Done?” My question rasped through a constricted throat.
“I guess so.”
“Then leave.”
He sucked a breath through his teeth, shaking his head. Then, with a resigned shrug, he left.
Tears chilled on my skin with the breeze as I faced the moonlit water far below, watching the moon’s reflection dance across the waves.
And suddenly, I knew.
My knees hit the stone. A sob tore from my throat.
The sea, the stars, the moon—I faced north. Beyond that horizon lay Radaan. I reached out, trembling.
If he were here, he’d make sense of this mess, know what to say, have the right laws memorized. He’d figure out how to move forward.
But didn’t he already? We both knew it couldn’t happen. The best we could hope for was keeping the dragons in Draconia.
He let me go.
He let me go.
In my mind’s eye, panic flashed across his features as he weighed every outcome, ran through each possible solution—coming up short.
There was nothing. We had nothing.
My hand slammed against the stone.
I would never see him again. There was no us.
I hated love.
When Freya returned, she peeled me off the balcony floor and cleaned me up enough to crawl into bed.
The sun rose, cruel and blinding, dragging another day behind it. And with it, the drive to chase whatever scraps of hope remained.
“I’m going to the library.” My voice cracked the silence.
Freya didn’t flinch. She paused mid-braid, eyes locked on my reflection in the mirror.
“Looking for inspiration?” she asked, fingers resuming their work. She wasn’t as fast as Edith—my heart splintered a bit more.
Kallias wouldn’t let anything happen to my maid, but being stranded in a foreign kingdom on the edge of war would never be a comfortable situation.
“Perhaps.”
She hummed, frowning as she tugged a stubborn strand into place.
The tangles from the flight had taken forever to comb through.
My cheeks no longer felt stretched raw—oils were finally working.
My lip had begun to scab, slow to heal, and the bruising beneath my eyes deepened to dark, yellow-ringed shadows.
Freya caught my gaze in the mirror. “They’ll get worse before they improve.”
“That’s what the healers said.”
She finished the braid, and I slipped on worn boots while she straightened the room. When I reached the door, she followed. I turned, ready to object, but she beat me to it.
“Two sets of eyes are better than one. I’ll help you search.”
“Did Mother tell you to babysit me?” I scoffed.
“She didn’t need to.” She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a daring brow at me. “Your state last night said enough. And look at that! Lucky for you, I’m free today.”
I narrowed my eyes, lips pressed tight. She had a point. She’d grown up in this palace, understood its rules and buried meanings. Between her and Mother, they were the only ones who at least pretended to understand how I felt.
I sighed, showing my resignation. “Fetch me a cup of travel tea, then meet me there.”
She grinned and waved me off, splitting directions.
I crossed the Cireendium, slipping through an arch carved straight into the stone. The room beyond had low ceilings and narrow aisles. Shelves pressed in on all sides, a maze perfect for children to hide in, but a headache for adults.