Chapter Ten
Kallias
“No!” Nienna’s voice split the salted air, sharp as shattered glass.
Gods above, if the last thing I saw was her face—wind teasing sunshine strands of her braid—the mad sail across the sea would have been worth it.
Even I flinched when the black dragon—vast enough to eclipse our ship—recoiled from Nienna’s cry. Its horned head snapped toward the clouds.
I moved one pace closer to an enraged father with murder carved into his stare.
His dragon shrieked, a bone-rattling sound, then hurled fire above me. A warning. He wouldn’t hesitate again.
I advanced.
Greaves’ armored tread echoed behind me, no balm for the thunder in my chest. Doubt fused with grim resolve. If this ended in my death, so be it. I would die chasing the one I loved.
Nienna was worth it.
Another step.
Nereus, King of Draconia, loomed ahead. Snow-white hair and a trimmed beard marked his age. Though leaner than me, his navy leathers clung to a warrior’s frame. Ice-pale eyes burned beneath furrowed brows, his face reddened with fury.
I could have sworn blue sparks danced in his glare.
Another step.
He moved, bridging the last of the distance. My boots hit the dock. His hand shot out, seizing the front of my overcoat.
“It was a mistake coming here,” he spat, yanking me close.
I grabbed the collar of his jacket, gripping him with as much force as I dared. My fingers twitched above my sword.
“I’ve come for a private word. King to king.” I knew the risk. Fallione waited aboard the ship. No one else would disembark until I secured our safety.
Nereus hissed, his lip curling in a snarl. “You are no king.”
“Then man to man.” I was in no place to test him, but my life was already forfeit. He hadn’t killed me yet. That counted for something.
“Man? No man would have done what you did.” His tone dripped acid.
“A man recognizes his failures and seeks to right them.” Our noses were breaths away, each of us clinging to the other with barely restrained violence.
I’d stood on countless battlefields, but nothing prepared me for the Dragon King’s fury.
Whatever held him back was wavering—and fast. Even the Velli’s threat paled in comparison to this king’s wrath.
“Father.”
My breath lodged in my throat. I refused to look past him, not yet. I needed to face Nereus first, explain what happened. Right my wrong. Only then could I ask her forgiveness.
And pray she still wanted me.
Gods, if she didn’t–
“You want me to hear you like a man?” Nereus stepped back and shoved off my hold. “So be it. You’ll be escorted to the landing as the criminal you are, tried for your crimes against Draconia—”
“Father!” Nienna’s voice broke in a quiet plea.
“—And against my daughter.”
His fist lashed out. Reflex saved me from a shattered jaw. His knuckles grazed my chin as I dodged, and the blow sent me staggering.
Elohios—did he pack that punch with magic?
I steadied myself, ignoring the throbbing sting as he spun on his heel. Above me, his beast loomed, saliva dripping from fangs longer than my legs.
Ronan held Nienna back, but I couldn’t look at her. Not yet. The king came first.
“You, to your mother!” Nereus pointed at her, then to the smaller black dragon—Prince Ronan’s mount.
Tried as a criminal, but not eaten.
Elohios guide me.
“Haldor! Mikal! Escort him for trial.”
Riders dismounted from their red and green dragons as Ronan hauled his sister off the dock. My teeth gritted at the sight of her struggling against his grasp. She argued, words too low for me to hear, gaze flashing over her shoulder, searching for mine.
Her cheeks were thinner, her skin sun-darkened. At this distance, the blue of her eyes was almost indiscernible.
A growl snapped my attention downward. I’d stepped toward her. A wall of obsidian scales slammed down, and an orange eye pinned me in place.
Pulse hammering, I resisted the instinct to draw my sword. A single wrong twitch would mean my end. I inhaled through my nose, calming the urge. I faced death countless times—dragonfire would simply be a quicker path.
Ronan’s dragon launched into the sky, and I tilted my head, chasing one last glimpse of Nienna. A speck against the clouds. Then gone.
The larger black whipped its head toward me, knocking me off balance, and I steadied myself on the dock as it retreated into the water. The movements sent waves rocking the ship.
My attention shifted to two men advancing.
Riders, clad in black leather. Knives strapped across their bodies like scales. One unhooked a chain from his belt.
I was a king.
My throat tightened. I stared into the older man’s eyes—anger glinting in the dark brown.
“Your men remain aboard,” he said.
I dipped my head. “Agreed.”
The younger man jerked his chin toward my shadow. “Including him.”
There was no avoiding it. Greaves would never stay behind. He was bound to me. Leaving me would destroy him.
“Where he goes, I go,” he growled.
“He’s going to his death.” The older rider pushed past me, and it took everything I had to remain still when he grabbed my sword.
My eyes drifted shut as the blade scraped free of its sheath.
The wave of vulnerability hit harder than expected. My weapon was gone. Cold steel bit my wrists as they wrenched my arms behind me.
“I go with him.” Greaves stated.
Even if I commanded him as king, he wouldn’t turn back. I had no right as a friend to send him away while I marched toward what could be my end.
“Your choice,” the younger rider muttered.
Greaves had planned for this—left most of his gear on the ship, surrendered the rest without a fight.
A crowd gathered along the shore. Nereus meant to make a spectacle. I had disgraced him and his daughter in front of our courts; he’d return the favor now. Behind the cluster of uneasy faces, a jagged black tower loomed from the island’s center.
The stone drank in sunlight, casting a deeper shadow. That grim fortress was Nienna’s birthplace—and my doom.
I lifted my chin as Nereus mounted his dragon, its wings tucked, its scales dull and broad as shields.
“Let’s go.”
A rough hand shoved me forward, and I stepped toward the watching crowd.
If I wanted Nienna, I would suffer this. I would endure, bear this burden. Radaan whispered blame into every painted smile. She would have suffered worse at court, her reputation in tatters.
I did that. I humiliated her, and now her father answered in kind.
A hand pressed between my shoulder blades, steering me toward the pale sand.
The silence was unbearable. A gull’s cry rang from above.
Waves battered the shore. Every face fixed on us—children peeking out from behind robes, women with sharp eyes and squared shoulders, men instinctively moving to shield their families.
Wood gave way to soft sand as the dock ended, and the crowd swallowed us. No words. No murmurs. Just tension thick enough to choke on.
We moved toward a narrow break between red brick buildings.
They stretched skyward, as if they’d run out of land and grown desperate to escape the earth.
Their shadows fell over me like a cage. Was this how Nienna felt under the mountain?
Trapped. Compressed. As if the city itself pressed in, intent on crushing me.
The alley narrowed until only the rider and I could walk abreast. Doors creaked open. Faces appeared, vanished. Shock and fury etched every expression.
It was a public shaming. The King of Radaan, shackled. Paraded about like a criminal.
To them, I was worse. I had tarnished their princess, shattered a sacred oath, abandoned a people who needed food and supplies.
In their eyes, I was the enemy.
Breaking the treaty had been an act of war. Yet I hadn’t left it there—I sailed straight for their shores. A smaller vessel meant fewer supplies, but more speed. Less of a threat. Better odds of arriving without being turned to ash.
Even now, I couldn’t make sense of it. Fifteen dragons on the island and none intercepted me. The alarm sounded only when I neared the harbor. Was that Nereus’ idea of mercy?
I sent him a dove days ago. His answer came on bloodstained cloth. A warning. Come, and die. But he hadn’t killed me at the docks. Did Nienna stay his hand—or was he playing at diplomacy?
The rider yanked my elbow, jerking me around a corner. My boot caught a step. I stumbled, lips curling into a snarl.
Behind me, the scrape of motion—Greaves was ready to fight the city itself for my sake, or die trying.
“Move!”
The command struck like a whip. I was shoved toward a mass of civilians. They cried out, scrambling away, vanishing into shops or homes. Were these homes? Storefronts? I hated how little I knew. I had never stepped foot on Draconis soil. Now every crack in that ignorance cut me.
I assumed we headed toward the Spire—my trial waiting. But what would that consist of? King Nereus as judge and jury, or a full council? I hated not knowing.
If Nienna stood at my side, she’d know how to navigate this, but she was with her mother.
But I was the Gods’ Chosen. Golden Warrior of Elohios. I survived nearly two decades on the war front. I would endure this too.
My mantle chafed at my neck, dislodged from my hands being pinned behind me. Each step dragged metal against raw skin. I had refused to approach Nereus without it. And I wouldn’t remove it. Not yet. It reminded them who I was. Reminded me.
The space between structures trapped heat. No breeze cut through. Though shaded, the alley sweltered, and sweat beaded on my brow.
After an eternity, we burst into a clearing boxed in by red-clay brick buildings. They walled off a grassy plain—where a jade and gold dragon waited. It crouched low, tail lashing like an angry cat, its head tilted at us in quiet appraisal.
The rider behind me gave a grunt of disapproval. Overhead, a crimson beast plunged from the clouds, ivory claws outstretched. The green one snapped its gaze skyward and loosed a roar that rattled the mantle across my shoulders.
The red beast veered off, circling above the clearing.
I barely had time to wonder who it belonged to—clearly not bonded with the riders escorting us—before I was yanked along the edge of the plain, steered wide of the sweeping tail.
Eyes the color of sunbursts tracked me, predatory and unblinking, like a giant feline stalking its prey.
Its gaze unsettled me. Tension coiled in the air, thick as smoke. It wasn’t only the crowd pouring in from the narrow paths between the buildings—it was the beast itself. Untamed. Feral. Not bound to any man.
The Spire loomed overhead, a towering omen, a herald of death. A black seam split the open sky, but I didn’t dare lift my head to follow its peak—my mantle had already slipped too far.
A rough hold dragged me up the steps. I stumbled, caught myself. I refused to fall. Not here. Not now. I wouldn’t humiliate myself further.
Massive doors, carved with ancient sigils, gaped open. Inside, a crowd pressed in around the entrance. Awe and dread pooled in my chest as we stepped within.
The center was hollow—a cylindrical core bored through the stone.
A ramp spiraled along the edges, not unlike the tunnel leading to Clay’s manor.
Balconies jutted out above me, where faces leaned over the railing.
Murmurs and gasps slid down the walls, coiling around me like a constricting serpent.
They pulled me forward, beginning the long ascent.
I lifted my chin, fixing my eyes on the path ahead. I didn’t need to provoke or threaten these people. Nereus wanted them to see a prisoner. But I was Radaan’s king, and I’d walk with dignity. I would not slump like some whipped dog.
The ramp wound upward, endless. My thighs screamed with the effort. Sweat beaded along my brow, and I cursed the droplet tracing my temple. I didn’t want to look defeated—but this was all part of Nereus’ plan, and resistance meant nothing now.
At last, the incline gave way to flat stone. A crowd of Draconis in earth-toned garb filled the chamber. Their clothes weren’t tattered, but bore evidence of labor. The women wore split skirts and trousers like the ones I’d seen Nienna wear so many times.
They shoved me forward through the crush of bodies.
The ceiling stretched far above, voices bouncing off the stone.
To my left, a dark throne rose on a platform sculpted high above the floor, visible even to those crammed near the back.
Small balconies honeycombed the walls—like a termite nest carved into the rock.
The Spire had to be hollow, riddled with unseen halls and passageways.
A thunderclap of wings tore my gaze toward the massive opening at my right. My spine snapped straight. Nereus’ dragon landed on a stone outcropping, neck snaking into the tower’s heart.
I clenched my jaw and held my ground as the crowd shrank from me. The beast halted a handspan from my face, lips peeled back. Its snarl sounded like boulders grinding down a mountainside.
Still, I wasn’t dead. Yet.
Its jaws snapped shut with terrifying speed. I winced, bracing for the strike. It didn’t come. The dragon lifted its head instead, golden eyes searing into mine, pupils thin and sharp as knives. Nereus slid down its shoulder and landed with fluid grace, armor whispering as he hit the stone.
He marched straight toward me, fury etched into every step.
I needed a private conversation, a chance to explain. But from the fire in his eyes, he meant to make a spectacle of this. Nothing I said would stop him. It would be my word against his son’s. I could only pray Fallione’s counsel had earned me some ground.
He sneered as he passed. I turned, careful to keep my attention on his silver-threaded blue leathers, though every instinct screamed not to turn my back on his dragon.
Right now, Nereus was the greater threat.
He spun and dropped onto the black-stone throne. The stairs beneath bore sea beasts and waves, but dragons held dominion at the top.
“Kneel!”
A hand shoved hard between my shoulders. I hit the floor with a grunt. Pain flared through my knees, but I stayed upright, jaw clenched as I stared at Draconia’s king.
“Kallias Sunspear,” Nereus thundered. His voice rang through the Spire, silencing the murmurs. “Have you come here to die?”