Chapter Twelve
Nienna
Ireturned to my rooms and barely dressed before dragging Freya to the library. There had to be an answer buried in these pages. Somewhere, a way to sever a Draconis Blood Oath without death.
The sun sank below the sea, casting the room in shifting shadows. Freya read beside me, page after page scoured in silence. Now that I understood the magic binding the oath, scattered clues began to align: fits of blind rage, erratic outbursts of power. It all fit. And still, we had nothing.
Kalepsi’s cries filled the night, needling my frayed mind. Whatever she wanted, it could wait.
I hadn’t even seen Mother to ask if the duel would come at dawn, or if we’d been granted a brief reprieve. I plunged into the texts, chasing threads that stretched back to the first bonds between dragons and Draconis. Perhaps that held the key.
“There’s nothing.” Freya exhaled, shoving her book toward the table’s center. “If there’s a way out of this mess, it’s not in here.”
I clenched my jaw, snatching the volume she abandoned in front of me. “It’s here.” The words scraped from my throat, meant more for me than her.
Kalepsi’s roar tore through the Cireendium, rattling the Spire; Argos answered, his screech splitting the air. I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to ease the pressure pounding within.
“Sea beneath, what’s set them off?” Freya muttered.
“Argos is angry. Because of Father.”
“And Kalepsi?”
“I don’t know!” My words cracked. “I don’t know anything!” I shoved the book aside, heat burning behind my eyes.
Worthless. A princess. A Dragon’s Heart with no dragon to my name—a pawn in everyone’s game.
In Radaan, I was treasured. Even in Draconia, I had some standing, a measure of respect. But now, when the man I loved stood on the verge of death—I was nothing. This was my harsh reality. No magic. No power. A voice with no say.
I hid my face in my hands as Freya leaned back, studying me.
Pain throbbed waves across my skull. My mouth felt like ash, my fingers trembled, and my limbs dragged heavy and slow.
Every bit of my body demanded I rest, but Kallias came for me.
He was here, and that meant something. A cursed flicker of hope.
If he was here, there had to be a chance, some minute shred of a future together.
“I’ll get you tea,” she said, chair scraping as she stood.
She was just giving me space to grieve. I dragged her into this impossible chase—she was as spent as I was. The sun had punished us all day while we strung those ridiculous drapes, and now my desperation for answers demanded more.
I dropped my head to the table, retracing the same maddening path for the thousandth time.
The blood oath tethered Father and Kallias. Their lives locked to a signature, magic woven into ink and intent.
If there were a loophole, wouldn’t Father have told me?
Could magic be misled by clever words? It wasn’t the runes themselves—it was belief, direction, purpose.
When Father sent me to Radaan, he bound that purpose to a promise: I would be Tallon’s.
When that promise unraveled, the magic must’ve interpreted it as betrayal.
Too much room for failure. Why were these oaths even still used?
“A princess never slouches.”
I jerked upright. Stars burst along my vision. When they cleared, Edith stood by the table—hair pinned in a perfect bun, not a strand astray.
Her mouth curled in a soft, sorrowful smile as she shook her head. “Before you ask, I don’t have the answer you seek.”
“He treated you well?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“As a king should.” Her gaze dropped. “He’s a kind soul. So are you both. But you’re caught in a terrible web.”
I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t let him duel Father.”
She sighed, then stepped behind me and swept my hair from my shoulders with careful fingers. “It will be tomorrow.”
The words hit like a physical blow. My lungs buckled. I folded in on myself, breath catching in a soundless scream. Somewhere above, a dragon’s roar rang out—raw, distant, full of grief that mirrored my own.
“The dragons feel it too,” Edith murmured, working her fingers through my wind-tangled knots. “If there were another way, your parents would have found it.”
“They hate him!” I choked, the stupid, worthless tears leaking out of my eyes once again.
“No,” she said, her tone gentle. “They love you. For that alone, they would choose differently if they could.”
Edith. My nursemaid. My handmaiden. Always steady, always near. She stepped back into her role as if we never parted, her voice full of sense and sorrow. She wove my hair into a braid with practiced hands while I tried to crush the last living piece of my heart.
Why didn’t I leave, run home, when I saw Tallon? Why did I go to that library, give in, tease, taunt, push?
Everyone pointed fingers now that he was here—but the blame belonged to me. I tasted passion, lust, and demanded more when it wasn’t mine to take. This disaster was my fault, and he bore the burden of it without protest.
“You cannot change the past, Nienna,” Edith whispered, pinning the braid around my head with tender precision. “All that’s left is forward.”
She tugged back my chair, and I faced her, eyes itching and blurry. “Go check on your dragon,” she said. “She’s been inconsolable.”
I forced my feet beneath me, bottling up the pain as I stood. If Kallias was resigned to trust his gods, then I’d trust mine.
The walk to the Nest was quiet. Even the torches along the Spire walls flickered with unease. As I cleared the corridor, a cold gale barreled into me. Kalepsi’s tail lashed, nostrils flaring. The violet queen snapped her jaws in my face—sharp and sudden. A reprimand.
“Did you call me just to scold me too?” I bit out, tears streaming. I was so sick of crying. It couldn’t change who I was or what would happen tomorrow.
She hissed low, curling her lip to flash teeth—a sign she wouldn’t put up with my irritation.
“Am I not enough for you either?” I shouted. “No wings or fangs. No magic. You claimed me as your own, and I have nothing to show for it! A princess of a starving island and a worthless broken heart of dragons!”
Kalepsi threw back her head, rearing up. Her forelegs slammed into the stone at my sides, bones scattering like brittle leaves. Throwing her muzzle at my body, she bellowed, the clamor splitting the night. My ears rang.
I didn’t flinch, baring my broken soul to her.
What good was I? What purpose would I ever serve?
Worthless. Shattered. Unprofitable.
Another roar tore from her throat. The force ripped strands loose from my braid. She snapped her jaws and swept a claw toward me. I braced—but she caught me in her grip and yanked me upward.
I clutched her scales, heart slamming against my ribs. She bolted for the Nest’s edge.
Then threw me.
Wind tore at my skirts, my hair, ripping the breath from my lungs. I tried to scream, thrashing midair to find a grasp. A snarl split the sky—Kalepsi dove, wings tucked, eyes locked on me. She shot past, twisted, and caught my fall with her back.
I slammed into the hard ridge of her spine and scrambled for a grip. Still diving, she didn’t slow. My knees clamped tight to her neck, muscles shaking. My pulse beating through my throat.
Above us, Argos let out a furious bellow; Kalepsi ignored him. She leveled out over the rooftops, wings slicing through the wind. My weight forced downward—once again in subjection to gravity.
Terror chased the grief out of me. I’d never ridden her—or any dragon—alone. One wrong move and I’d tumble off her back. I pressed flat, making myself as small as possible, heart hammering against her scales. The beat of her wings thundered through my body as she soared toward the sea.
The first Dragon’s Heart vanished into a whirlstorm, never seen again.
Was that what I wanted? To disappear?
Would anyone notice I was gone?
Mother loved me. I knew that. She saw something in me—though I couldn’t guess what it was anymore. Father would pluck the moon from the sky for me, if I asked. Ronan, for all his mischief, would stand between me and death. He’d protect me with his life.
Kalepsi crooned, the sound vibrating through her chest and into mine. She cocked her head, vivid eyes tracking Argos above.
A chirp to my left—Tsunami. She cut into the sky, her body alive with motion, weaving like a snake through star-dappled air.
She caught my gaze, flared her wings, and spat a burst of fire, diving through the flames.
A trill followed, pleased with herself. She rolled midair, gliding on her back before plummeting toward the city.
I had my family. I had the dragons.
But I wanted Kallias.
A pang of sorrow scored through me, grounding my racing heart. I desired what wasn’t mine—lusted after someone who I should have never considered. Now, I ruined both of our lives.
Kalepsi huffed, banking before she reached the sea.
I yelped, thighs locking tight as the turn yanked me sideways.
A scream clawed its way out when her wing dropped in a heavy downbeat—K’lan spread beneath us, every roof and tower laid bare.
She leveled out, giving me a breath’s reprieve, then banked again over K’bar.
I frowned. Realization crept in.
When she veered above K’seer, I rested my cheek against her scales, my grip loosening.
She was showing me my people.
I couldn’t just vanish into the sky and leave them—not to Ronan, who had the temperament of a crab. He might inherit the throne of Draconia, but he would need a steady voice of reason at his side. Sorrow lanced through my chest.
Tallon would rule Radaan next.
My brother couldn’t face him alone.
Kalepsi circled above K’dan, then angled back toward the landing. I frowned with confusion, wondering why she wouldn’t return me to the Nest—then saw my father.
White hair stark against the night, he watched us at the tip of the landing.
Argos hovered above us, pulling up as Kalepsi beat her wings, slowing her descent.
She dropped hard. Stone cracked under her weight—unbonded dragons did not land with care.
My teeth clacked, the copper tang of blood seeping over my tongue.
I held tight, breath hitching as her long neck twisted to peer at me. Her pupil widened.
We weren’t bonded, but the soft croon she gave—nostrils flared—felt like reassurance.
Father kept his back to us, hands laced behind him, tension rigid across his shoulders. His robe, a shade of summer sky, snapped in the wind. Boots planted, spine straight.
The father I adored. The man fated to kill the one I loved.
He would do it. I had no illusions. As a Well, magic filled his every breath. Faster, stronger, more powerful than any rider. Kallias was a mere mortal. He stood no chance.
Grief sank into my bones, heavy and jagged, iron driven through marrow.
Kalepsi chuffed, lifting her head, teeth clicking together in a sound too gentle for her size. Encouraging. Urging. Like a mother nudging hatchlings from the Nest.
I drew in a breath, but it caught in my throat. When she lowered herself close to the ground to ease my descent, I tucked loose strands of hair behind my ear, then slid down her side. Even so, I stumbled when my boots struck stone.
Her muzzle nudged my back, and I staggered forward—toward him.
With arms wrapped tight around my ribs, I crossed the distance as Kalepsi launched skyward, vanishing into the night.
Father’s robe snapped again, revealing his pale tunic and breeches. I stepped to the edge beside him. Wind tore past us. The city lay far below, a sprawl of dim rooftops and glinting lights.
Beyond the cliffs stretched the north sea. And beyond that—Radaan.
“You have to kill him?” My words barely carried, plucked away by the gusts.
“Have you come to make your plea?” His voice cracked, gravel thick in every syllable.
My nose burned, a sign more pitiful tears hovered close. I flared my nostrils, fighting to hold them at bay. “I already have.”
He inhaled, slowly. Raised his hand.
Moonlight gleamed on his skin; steam curled from his palm, as though the heat of his magic boiled his blood. He closed his fist, knuckled it behind his back.
“He has done this to himself.”
I studied his face. Wrinkles carved deeper than before, eyes raw and bloodshot.
“You will never forgive me. I know that. But he made this choice.”
“He came to right our wrongs. He didn’t lie.” My nails dug crescents into my skin; pain helped. It steadied me. “We haven’t lied. He chose honor, Father. You have to see that.”
He bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“This is bigger than choice. It’s consequence: mine, for sending you to a foreign court alone; yours, for loving a man you were fated to lose.
” His voice broke. “Do you think I want my daughter—my treasure—to watch me kill the one she…” He faltered, then swallowed.
“Loves? I want to see him bleed for the pain he caused you, for his recklessness. But I’ve never wanted you to suffer.
“Were I a weaker Vessel, the blood oath might only destroy me and Argos. But as a Well? It will destroy Draconia.”
Above, stars glittered like frost. Winged shadows slid across them, the slow beat of dragons circling. Their wings a drumbeat of impending doom.
“You don’t have to come,” he said, low. “Spare yourself. Do not watch.”
A breath shook out of me. “I have to.”
Silence stretched, brittle as cracked glass.
“I don’t hate you,” I whispered, a confession tearing its way free—but he needed to hear it. “I hate myself.”