Chapter Fifteen
Kallias
Everything ached, but the sharpest wound came from the torment in Nienna’s eyes. Grief twisted her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking the front of her dress. Still, she asked this of me.
For her, I would move the sun. I would trade my life for hers. So, I turned to the dark maw stretched wide before me.
And dropped my sword.
For Nienna, I would surrender. She needed my death—asking me to spare her.
I did not fear dragonfire.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I watched the dragon’s rough tongue scrape the roof of its mouth, flinging sparks that crackled in the air.
Fluid dripped from the glands at the corners of its jaw, and for one breath, I wondered if it only meant to scare me.
Then the flames came.
I clenched my teeth, shut my eyes. Heat slammed into me, a wave of flame wrapping my limbs. My skin blistered under the lick of scorched fabric.
But death didn’t take me.
The air scalded my lungs when I tried to breathe, the throne room glowing orange behind my eyelids.
When I cracked them open, heat surged up, circling me in a column of light. The purple dragon exhaled fire—tight spirals rising to the cavern ceiling. Within the blaze, silhouettes twisted, draconic and wild.
I smiled, chest swelling with the burn.
Elohios be praised… and Nienna’s dragons.
Someone crashed into my back. I staggered, heat shifting with me as the flames moved in tandem. Arms locked around my waist. I shifted, half-turning, and the violet dragon snapped its jaw shut, cutting off the blaze.
A sob tore from behind me. I stopped moving. Her weight sagged against me.
Smoke curled from the tatters of my tunic. My chest lay scorched bare, hair singed away. The shallow wound across my ribs steamed where fire left it half cauterized.
Small fingers dug into my abdomen—ten hooks like dragon claws dragging through tender muscle.
I pressed a hand over hers and raised my gaze to her father.
“Purged in dragonfire,” I said, pitching my voice above the tide of whispers that rippled through the crowd. Let him challenge it.
His jaw clenched, and his grip whitened around his sword. Argos bared his fangs and snarled, shouldering through the gathering toward the landing.
Nereus lifted his chin. “The Draconis Blood Oath is satisfied.”
A tremor jolted through me. Her fingers clamped harder, hooking into my muscles. I bit down a groan and waited for her father’s verdict.
“Take him to my floor,” he spat, then turned, vanishing into the crowd.
I met Greaves’ eyes. Deep lines furrowed his brow, but the corner of his mouth twitched—a ghost of disbelief, maybe even pride.
“You trusted your gods,” I murmured low, the words meant only for Nienna.
She sobbed into my back, each tear leaving a chilled trail down my spine.
Nyxaria descended the steps, white skirts sweeping across the stone. A hint of the confident queen Nienna would make one day.
The frown between her brows was sharp, but she gave the smallest bow before extending a hand. Masses peeled apart to form a path through the crowd. “This way, King Kallias.”
Mouths hung open. Hands covered them. Eyes stared, wide and unbelieving. Whispers passed between them like wind through dry leaves.
“I’m afraid I can’t move.” I squeezed the fingers leaving gouges in my flesh.
Above us, the dragon made a sound—deep, rumbling. A soft, strange croon.
I craned my head to meet her gaze.
She lowered, bringing an enormous eye level with mine. That iris, larger than my skull, slit to a thread before darting toward the princess behind me. It flared wide, then narrowed as it returned. The dragon exhaled, a breath strong enough to rattle loose stones.
Still, she didn’t move away.
Her eye dashed once more to Nienna. Back to me. Another hiss, low and scraping.
“She’s waiting for your assurance,” Nyxaria whispered.
I dipped my chin, searching for words a dragon might understand. “I will protect her with my life.”
The beast snorted, the sound something between disdain and amusement.
Lips touched the burned skin of my shoulder blades. Nienna’s hand unlatched from my waist and caught mine. I turned to her, then attempted to wipe the soot and tears from her cheeks, but only smeared them further.
Her eyes were swollen from crying. Her face blotchy and pale beneath the grime.
And I had never seen her more radiant.
But this trial wasn’t over.
I stepped the way Nyxaria indicated, and Nienna’s fingers squeezed mine. She drew herself up, lifted her chin, and inhaled—her expression hardening into the dignified mask of royalty. One that demanded respect.
We moved through the throng, the queen carving a path toward the exit, following the route Nereus had taken. My spine itched—no doubt the purple dragon tracked my every step, sizing me up like prey. I gripped Nienna’s hand tighter and kept going.
The Spire’s heart had been carved from black stone, but the walls shone like polished onyx, throwing back the light and lending the illusion of brightness. Thick mats lined the floor, muffling our boots as Nyxaria guided us upward.
We avoided the vast central chamber, instead climbing narrow stairs tucked in shadowed corridors. The tight walls pressed in close, each step more claustrophobic than the last. Everything in this place felt constricted, pinched, rigid.
On the next floor, silence fell like a shroud. This was no public space. We rounded a corner and slipped into a room—and I understood.
Nereus positioned himself behind a chair at the head of a small table, knuckles white on dark wood.
Ronan entered last, swinging the door shut.
No one spoke. We just stood there, tension crowding the air. I looked and felt like a burnt idiot—clothes half-incinerated, smoldered to ash, still clinging to Nienna’s hand as if I were a chastised schoolboy.
“Nereus?” Nyxaria asked, voice thin.
His storm-gray eyes met hers. A breath passed. Then he shifted his gaze to me and straightened with a silent snarl. “Let go of her.”
My chest tightened. I held his stare and flexed my fingers. Nienna clung tight, but I eased free, not wanting to provoke him more than I already had.
Blowing a relieved breath out, he shook his head. “It worked.”
Nyxaria’s shoulders deflated. She pulled out a chair and collapsed.
“I can’t believe it,” Ronan muttered, circling around us.
“If it quelled the oath, then it’s settled,” Nienna said, lowering herself beside her mother. “He asked for my hand.”
“It’s far from settled,” Nereus bit out, glare drilling into mine. “Just because the magic that demanded I torch your body and toss you to the eels is satisfied does not mean I am. You have much to answer for.”
Jaw clenched, I nodded. “I requested a meeting prior to the duel.” This could have all been avoided had he swallowed his pride and met with me.
“You didn’t want to be locked in a room with me then,” he growled, rubbing at his brow. “Sea beneath—can you put on some clothes?”
“He’s fit for an old man,” Ronan said, drawing a glower from both me and his father. He chuckled, dropping his amused gaze.
“I have none.” I kept my tone dry. “Greaves could retrieve some from my ship—which you’ll be releasing.”
Nereus blinked, then his white brows lifted. “I’ll be doing what?”
“Releasing my crew and my ship.” My words carried no heat—just steel. I didn’t want to rile him without cause, but gods, I’d endured enough of his posturing. I lived through his duel, survived a torrent of dragonfire.
“Your oath is satisfied. My people have committed no crime. Let them walk the docks and share the grain we brought.” I tempered the demand, the blow to his ego, with a reminder of my own power.
The queen leaned back, eyes on her husband while the rest of us waited.
“Well enough,” he muttered.
Ronan groaned while Nyxaria loosed a sigh. At her side, Nienna offered me a quiet smile.
“Let me get him cleaned up,” she said, rising. “I’ll find him clothes.”
“Nienna!” Her mother caught her wrist, throwing a wary glance my way—eyes trailing down my ruined state.
Ronan’s face twisted into a disgusted grimace. “She’s seen more of him than that, I’d wager.”
“Ronan!” Nereus thundered. “Take him. Find something that fits.”
The boy scoffed, striding past. “Come on, old man.”
I bit down on the retort, turned, and followed. He led in silence through emptied halls—cleared for this moment, no doubt.
Good.
He brought me to a chamber and stepped aside. I entered and stopped just past the threshold.
Light spilled across the floor. The room had a clean, masculine edge. Preserved sea creatures loomed from the walls—monsters frozen mid-lunge. Heavy blue drapes matched Nereus’ colors.
I kicked the door shut behind me.
Ronan looked over his shoulder, brow arched in amusement before sauntering deeper into the rooms.
I flipped the lock into place. Just for good measure.
“You’re broader than Father, but you could squeeze into some of his old things. That, or provide comic relief until we dig clothes out of your ship. Who knows? Perhaps the dragons will turn it into a game and roast you every time you step outside–”
I seized his collar and yanked him back, slamming him into the wall. Flames sparked to life in his palms, but my fist already flew.
Knuckles crashed into his nose, and pain jolted up my arm. Fire flared hotter from his palms, but I crushed a hand around his throat, leaning close. Let him try to burn me. I survived dragonfire. I could endure this ember-sparked brat.
“It’s time you learn what’s off-limits, boy,” I snarled, tightening my grip.
A dragon bellowed outside—likely his. He shoved both hands against my chest. Heat surged against my skin, then fizzled.
“Abyss,” he wheezed. “You’re fireproof?”
My grin cut sharp. I squeezed harder. “Taunt me all you want—but you’ll keep Nienna out of it.”
He bared his teeth, face flushing under the pressure. His knee jerked up, aimed for my crotch, but I snapped my legs together and trapped it.
“I’ll make sure you regret every slip. Got it?” I eased off enough for him to breathe.