Chapter Fifteen #3
“She cared for my people. For Radaan. There’s a strength in her—a sense of duty—that few carry. She’s more than a princess. She’s a queen in her own right, and revealed as much in my court. Nienna faced crowds, challenged nobles, won hearts. Don’t reduce her to a simple beauty I wanted for myself.
“I have remained celibate since Tallon’s conception. There’s no shortage of women that I could have bedded. As a king yourself, you know this. And yet, I touched no one.”
“But you had to have my daughter,” he snarled.
I eased back, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’ve made mistakes. But I never crossed a line she didn’t invite. I never forced her. Never coerced her.”
“She wouldn’t know. You’re twice her age. You’ve had years to learn how to prey on younger women. How am I to believe anything you say?”
“Greaves is my guard. He’s slept in my chambers, shadowed me since boyhood. Ask him.”
“And where was he when you touched my daughter?”
Telling me I was too old for her.
I exhaled, cornered. “I sent him off. Or slipped away.”
Nereus tipped his head with a smug leer. A predator with fresh blood on the wind.
“You’ve got all this magic,” I said, jaw tight, “yet can’t tell truth from lies? You’re determined to cast me as an animal—Elohios knows I’ve felt like one—but I’m standing here trying to make it right. And you’re determined to drag me down.”
Ronan kicked his chair to the floor and slammed his palm against the table. “A Vessel!”
“Radaanians are not Vessels,” the king barked.
I turned, squinting at the prince. “Vessel?”
“Aye. A Vessel for magic. Riders can pour power into them—and when we do, we glimpse their minds.”
The nape of my neck prickled. I recoiled.
“There’s absolute trust between rider and Vessel,” Nereus said, voice low as he swirled his drink. “We guard their secrets. They respect our gift. We never bond with one who might abuse it. That’s why Dragon Riders reserve the right to sift through memory.”
My stomach knotted. The thought of someone combing through my thoughts—rifling through what I’d buried beneath decades of discipline—turned my insides to ice.
“It could work,” Ronan said, turning toward his father. “He has magic of some kind—we all saw him glowing like a storming firefly.”
“That glow is Elohios’ blessing,” I explained. “Though his gift is fractured here.” My eyes swept the stone walls, as if they might explain it. Normally, the light pooled across my skin—whole, unbroken. Today, it flickered and dulled. Dampened.
“We don’t believe in gods,” Ronan tossed out carelessly. “Father, let me try.”
“I wouldn’t have you in my head if it spared me from hurling myself off the landing, boy,” I hissed.
Nereus scoffed—the closest thing to a smile I’d seen on him since arriving. He dipped his chin, studying me. “And if I asked? Would you allow a father to see whether you speak the truth about his daughter?”
Gods. The library. That hall after the assassination attempt. The manor in the mountains. Would he feel how my pulse jumped near her? Know what lust stirred in my veins? Would it damn me further or clear my name?
Other memories roused from their coffins—dark ones I kept sealed tight.
“What are the risks?” My voice dipped low as caution crept in. No part of me had prepared for this—for Nereus, Dragon King of Draconia, sifting through my mind.
“A bit of mild discomfort on your end,” he said, leaning closer, tone needling. “Unless I find a lie.”
“I ask that the prince leave.”
Ronan balked. “Why?”
“Done,” Nereus cut in.
“Father!” Ronan rose, face twisted in protest. “What if he glows like a cursed starfish again and attacks you?”
“I’ll give you three breaths before I acknowledge your blatant insult to my ability to defend myself,” the king growled.
Ronan scoffed and shoved his chair back, stalking out. “I’ll be in the hall.”
The door slammed, and I exhaled, letting my weight sag against my seat. “It’s no simple thing, allowing someone to crawl through your thoughts.”
“And yet I’m meant to trust my daughter with a man old enough to be her father, one found between her legs, insisting he’s honorable.”
Fair.
“Can I control what you see?” I asked, fighting my cringe.
“You cannot.”
“There are things I wish to remain private.”
He deadpanned. “I imagine so.”
My glare sharpened. “If it concerns Eldeiade, I expect her privacy to be respected.”
His brow creased. “Your former wife? Why hide her from me?”
“That’s my line.” My jaw flexed. No man should have to bear that, let alone watch another witness that shame. Only Greaves knew the extent of what happened behind closed doors—and it would stay that way.
“I can’t promise I won’t stumble upon it,” he said with a shrug, “but I won’t go digging. If I sense you abused her though, I’ll see you dragged back to Radaan on that pathetic scrap you call a ship.”
A slow breath steadied me. For Nienna, I’d endure it. Sun above, I hoped she’d been honest with her mother about how far things had gone.
Nereus rose. I followed. He stepped closer, reached toward my face. I recoiled, neck cracking as I flinched.
“You’ll see what I see,” he warned, settling his rough palm on my shoulder instead. “Brace yourself.”
My grip barely found the table’s edge before his thumb brushed my skin—and the ground vanished beneath me.
I sat in the study with Bac’phares while he fumed over the raise in his taxes.
The vision shifted.
Nienna leaned into me, fingers grazing my jaw. I flinched from her pull. “Gods, Nienna, I’m trying to do the right thing.” Her touch reminded me she lived. She came to me—needed me. I would burn Reem to the ground if it meant keeping her safe.
The scene fractured.
We spun in a ballroom haze, her breath brushing my ear. My thigh pressed between hers. Her face flushed. I wanted to tear the fabric from her skin and take her right there, with the crowd watching. She matched my rhythm with willing submission, hips grazing mine—gods, what would she be like in bed–
My stomach dropped as the world spun again.
Nienna, Princess of Draconia, arrived, and Tallon was nowhere to be seen. Of course. That scorching son was never where I needed him. She climbed the dais with unsteady steps. Pale. Damp with sweat. Ill?
She bent and pressed her lips to my brow. Fire erupted from her, curling around us in blazing ribbons. This was for Tallon. She belonged to him. And he cast her off as if she were a broodmare he hadn’t chosen.
The image bled away.
She pulled my tunic free, hands trembling. Desire and dread surged through my veins. Shouldn’t. Couldn’t. But I didn’t stop her curious exploration. Would she recoil from me like Eldeiade, or would she hunger for me?
Her thighs pressed into my hips. I groaned, teeth clenched. She trailed kisses along my jaw, exactly where I needed her most.
She fumbled with my belt. I seized her wrist, even as my body strained beneath her.
“No.”
“Take me.” Her voice cracked. The pain in her eyes cut deep.
“I cannot.”
My thoughts whirled, bile rising in my throat.
She sat between my legs, curled against my thigh, head resting just above my knee. Blood still slicked every inch of me. Lust simmered. But I wouldn’t let her go further. She offered so freely what my late wife never gave.
The world spun on its axis.
“Kallias Sunspear,” Eldeiade sneered. “They call you that, but you’re dull as stone.”
I said nothing. Her mockery lost power years ago.
“Come, serve me like the dog you are. That’s all you’re good for.” She flung herself back on the bed, robe falling open.
I turned away, her beauty soured in my eyes. Elohios help me, when would I get her with child?
“Should I send for your guard? Perhaps he would do a better job.”
My nails scraped the table. I tried to wrench free.
She’d drawn me. Crude, awkward strokes—but I knew that body, that scar. Gods, the princess—betrothed to my son—drew my naked chest. Why did that stir my blood? What kind of beast was I? I crushed the feeling and returned her sketch. She could draw what she would, it wouldn’t affect me.
The floor buckled beneath me.
“Kallias refused the trade I arranged.” Eldeiade popped a grape in her mouth.
Phares turned to me, annoyed.
“He lost three hundred men in the last battle.”
“He hasn’t given me a child. I told him to visit the healer.”
“He’s too hard on the Velli. We should listen to them. Isn’t that right, dear?”
“You have one job, Kallias. Can’t even sire an heir. A dog could do better than you!”
I tore away from Nereus and lurched over the side of the chair. Dinner surged up my throat. I vomited onto the stone floor—fish, broth, acid. It sprayed from both nose and mouth, burned all the way out. My gut clenched against the violence of it.
Shaking, I gripped the seat and forced my breath into rhythm. Slow. Shallow. The world held still. No visions, no spinning. Only the scrape of wood against stone and the stench of half-digested food.
I straightened and met Nereus’ gaze, then dragged my sleeve across my mouth, smearing bile and spit. “I pushed her away.”
His jaw flexed. He watched me—not angry. Just weighing something. “You should have pushed her away,” he said, voice thick with unwanted sympathy. It chafed.
My chin lifted. “That’s not your concern. I told you not to pry.”
He gave a stiff nod. “Your name is cleared. The blood oath satisfied. As her father, I accept that. The Spire offers you a clean start. Wash up. Tomorrow, we’ll speak of contracts.”
Relief twisted in my gut, knotted tight with too many memories just below the surface. I shoved them down. Buried them deep where they belonged.
He gestured to the mess. “Forget it. It Happens.”
I reached for the mead, tipped it into my mouth, and sloshed it around before I spat it back into the cup with a grimace.
Then I lifted it toward him as if to toast a tentative peace. “To mild discomfort.”