Chapter Fourteen
Nienna
Above me, Argos snapped his jaws, hissing his frustration—but even he flinched from the sudden flare.
Kallias’ skin burst with the light of the sun before melding to cracks along his hands and neck. His movements sped to match my father’s, the force of his blows sending Father staggering back a step.
Was this Elohios’ gift? The light Gayle had spoken of? It streaked beneath Kallias’ clothes like fire behind a veil. It didn’t touch his face, only burned low, hidden, but potent. Whatever its source, it let him match my father blow for blow.
Father’s fury deepened, and Argos growled, matching his chaos. They wanted this fight to have a quick end.
My pulse rattled. My palms burned slick. I didn’t know how to feel—how could I? No matter the outcome, I’d lose a piece of my heart.
Father ducked under a swipe, lunged. Feet moving faster than my eyes could track, Kallias dodged the blow, muscles bunching under his tunic as he parried. His blade cut upward toward Father’s skull.
A dry sob wracked my body, emotion jerking through my chest. I would lose either way. Even if Kallias had the power of a god trickling through his veins, Father harnessed the magic of the eons through Argos.
And so the torture dragged on.
Steel shrieked with each clash. Kings tore at each other for my sake. I was their destruction. Never had I believed I would be a single nation’s doom, let alone two.
I was cursed.
Kalepsi’s roar rattled the Spire, sending bits of stone skittering across the floor. The dragons grew restless—their king had met his match. At my back, Argos snarled, tension thrumming through him as the fight dragged on.
Pebbles and dust rained down, the throne room trembling beneath their fury.
Father slashed, feinted, swept low. His foot hooked Kallias’ knee. Kallias hit stone, rolled, pushed upright in one fluid burst. He met the next blow with a grunt and steel.
Momentum pushed Father forward, and Kallias rammed his shoulder into his stomach. They broke apart, circled again. Vultures over a carcass.
That’s all I was. A corpse. No heart left.
Their breaths matched, sharp and ragged. Kallias’ disheveled hair clung damp to his brow. A sheen coated Father’s skin.
My knees threatened to give out, and my fingers closed around the throne’s cool stone for support. I had to stop this. I couldn’t stand here and watch. There had to be something—anything.
If I attempted to interrupt, Ronan and Mother would drag me out, remove me from the throne room.
My gaze slipped to my brother as the men clashed in a tangle of blades and limbs. He held Greaves back, Mikal tight beside him. My breath snagged at the sight of Kallias’ friend. Veins bulged in his neck, swollen from strain. His fists trembled, teeth bared, ready to charge.
Help me.
My nails scraped into marble like dragon claws, agony crashing over me in waves, and I shuddered.
Please, help me.
Kalepsi slammed into the landing.
Gasps cut the air, and the crowd parted like frost from flame. True fear washed me in terror as she clawed into stone, sparks dancing past violet scales.
Father shifted, attention split between her and the man he meant to kill.
Argos reared, stretching his neck over us and bellowed, a territorial warning that cracked the sky.
Kalepsi crept forward. Her massive form blocked all sunlight, casting the space in shadow.
Help me! I prayed to whomever might hear me. Would Radaan’s goddess hear me again? Kalepsi avoided people—she was more prone to eat them than tolerate anyone’s presence—and she never left the Nest this close to the Awakening.
She cocked her head, golden eye locking onto mine. Unblinking.
She came for me.
A soft grunt snapped my attention back to the fight.
Kallias staggered, hand pressed against his chest.
No. No!
Crimson seeped between his fingers. Still, he grimaced and launched himself at my father, defiant.
My breaths came in quick gasps, refusing to fill my lungs. All the while Kalepsi stalked closer, mouth open, lips curled. She sensed the blood.
Argos roared again, scales quivering with the threat.
Kalepsi snapped her jaws. A rebuke. Then her attention shifted to the fight.
Kallias ducked beneath Father’s guard, hooked an arm around his neck, and used the spin’s momentum to drive the sword’s hilt into his temple. His legs buckled.
A strangled whimper clawed from my throat, tears springing free.
Kalepsi roared, sparks flying from her mouth. Kallias lost his grip and dropped hard to the stone. The men rolled apart, panting, bleeding.
When Kalepsi snaked her head above the crowd and lunged for my father, Argos tore forward, his black belly just over our heads. One final warning. She snapped at the air in front of his nose, then swung toward Kallias.
“No!” The scream ripped from my throat, raw and grayed. It echoed back, pitiful and thin.
Kalepsi froze. Her glittering pupil narrowed, golden fire caught in the slit. Her lips trembled. Everything, everyone, went still.
Kallias lay beneath her, tunic soaked dark. His chest heaved, shallow and fast. The fractured glow of his skin glinted along her fangs.
“Please, no,” I whispered.
She wouldn’t—couldn’t give in to bloodlust. Not with him. Not Kallias.
Her tongue flicked out, tasting his blood.
But her gaze never left mine. Waiting. For what?!
No one moved. Not Father. Not Greaves. Frozen in some sick time loop. I hung somewhere outside myself, as if suspended midair. My scalp tingled, limbs numb. My heart slammed against my ribs.
Kalepsi rolled her tongue, a shower of sparks raining over Kallias.
My vision danced with stars as I struggled for air. Argos vibrated with tension while the realm watched on in silence. Draconia’s dragon queen hovered over Radaan’s king.
She waited for me. For my permission.
Purge it in dragonfire. Release him.
Kallias trusted his gods. But belief meant nothing when faced with a wall of flame.
He told me to have faith—not in his gods. But my dragons.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I blinked hard to see through the blur.
Kalepsi inhaled, slow and steady, her gaze locked on mine. She pulled her head back.
“Rise, Kallias Sunspear.” My voice cracked, torn from a throat too tight to breathe.
Father stood and backed beneath Argos, giving Kalepsi space.
Mother’s hand found mine. Her grip crushed my knuckles, but it wasn’t enough to match the pain splitting me apart when Kallias turned my way.
Love wasn’t easy. It was a horrible, spiteful thing. It shattered kingdoms. Cleaved souls in two. It ripped everything from me. I had nothing else. No power, no future. Just this moment—and the Queen of Dragons.
Those sky-blue eyes saw me—my soul. And he knew.
I couldn’t watch. I was weak. They would kill each other for me, and I would break beneath their fury.
“Rise.” I choked, the word a sob, selfish and small.
But love made monsters of us all.
He smiled. A quiet, terrible grace.
I shuddered with a cry, my tears hitting the cold stone. No, he couldn’t give me permission, couldn’t forgive me for this. I wouldn’t let him. It was a twitch, nothing more.
He moved, pushing to his feet. Blood slicked the floor. He dropped his sword with surrender, a sharp, ringing clang as he turned his back on me, facing Kalepsi.
Greaves howled his torment, thrashing against Ronan and Mikal’s hold. A sound of rage. Despair. Pure, unfiltered heartbreak.
“Purge him in dragonfire.”
And there the King of Radaan stood alone, facing his death.
Kalepsi’s maw opened, spreading wide as sparks sprayed from her throat. Then, in a torrent of blinding heat, a deluge of flame swallowed him whole.