Chapter Sixteen
Nienna
“How did you know it would work?”
Mother’s question jabbed hard, the one topic I both avoided and craved.
I stared at my clasped hands as we walked. “I didn’t.”
To admit it out loud felt like a betrayal. How could I ask Kalepsi to set him ablaze if I hadn’t been certain he’d survive?
Mother pressed her lips tight. The creases at the corners of her eyes deepened.
She guided me to my floor. I fought the pull to turn back, to head straight for the dining hall.
I needed to see him. Touch him. Make sure he was whole.
But he had to face Draconia’s king first. Nothing I said could soften his image.
That was Kallias’ burden—to stand tall, speak for himself, likely clash with Father again.
Inside my rooms, she gave a quick glance for Freya or Edith before settling on the chaise. Reclining, she shut her eyes and shook her head. “It’s strange. Your father told me about last night. That’s the second time Kalepsi has left the Nest near an Awakening.”
Queens never abandoned their eggs so close to hatching—not even for their riders. And yet twice now, she came to me.
“They feel different since I arrived.” I sank into a padded chair with a sigh. “It’s like they understand me.”
“They always have.” She studied me, a crease forming between her brows. “But this is different. You haven’t bonded—we’d know. Still, there’s something about you being the Dragon’s Heart. I’ve never heard of anyone immune to dragonfire.”
“He’s safe. That’s what matters.”
“Hardly.” She straightened, tucking a stray strand into her braid.
“This is only the beginning. You’re back to page one.
Worse, because now he must prove himself to your father.
Show this was a misstep, not a pattern. If he can persuade Nereus to let him stay, we renegotiate.
If we give you to Kallias, it won’t be as a princess—it’ll be as a queen. ”
My stomach clenched, and my eyes snapped to hers.
“To ask for your hand, he’ll have to surrender more. I hope he’s ready.”
I scoffed, still stunned. “He faced a dragon and you wonder if he’d give up more for me?”
“That duel—and standing in Kalepsi’s fire—was his decision as a man. Brave, yes. But personal. Sacrificing his body is one thing. Giving up his kingdom is another.”
He would. I knew it in my bones. Father wouldn’t demand the impossible—he’d be firm, but fair.
Kallias could negotiate. That was part of being a king.
It might take days, maybe longer, but it would happen.
Faster than the contract with Tallon. This time, we didn’t have to worry about doves and missives crossing the sea.
He was here and would see it through himself.
I would be a queen.
My mouth drew down. I’d have to step into Eldeiade’s place. Would Radaan welcome me? After everything? What would our reception look like? Where would the wedding even happen? Here in Draconia? There?
So many questions. But I just wanted to see him.
“Tomorrow will be long,” Mother said, rising with a breath. “We can’t hide in the Spire. The Awakening is near, and we must stand united.”
She studied me a moment longer, her gaze quiet, sharp. “He’ll stay here. That may help, after what happened with Tsunami and Adoni. But a word of warning, Nienna.”
My smile turned smooth—demure, obedient. Perfect.
“Until you’re joined, abyss—be careful.” Her eyes narrowed, tone dry.
“Your father knows you won’t keep your distance, but he’ll try to make it so.
Whatever happens, remember your people. They’re watching.
Waiting. Their world has shifted—your return, the Innaki, the duel.
Be patient. I spent years drilling sense into your skull.
Don’t let that man’s charm pluck it out. ”
“He’s charming!” I laughed.
She rolled her eyes, but offered a teasing smile. She held out her hand. “Remember who you are—a princess, and perhaps, soon-to-be queen. Act like it.”
She pulled me to my feet and folded me into her arms.
I gripped her dress, breathed in salt and sun. In spite of everything that had happened, she stayed by my side. Unable to change any of it, but she didn’t abandon me.
“Now—off to bed!” She kissed my forehead. “We all need rest after a day like this.”
“Hush! They’re bound to have Argos and Gyrak lurking in the Cireendium,” Freya scolded with a muffled giggle, fingers working through my hair in the dark.
I stifled a laugh and threw my head back, fastening the light cape over my nightdress. Pale-blue silk clung to my chest, lace draped over the bodice and a delicate strip crossed my middle—one of my finest gowns. I squinted into the mirror, nudging the lace into place until it aligned with my navel.
“If you’re caught, your father will toss you into the sea,” she hissed, still grinning, then smoothed my hair down over my shoulders. “Scandalous.”
“Scythe would’ve kicked me out already,” I said, a sharp pull behind my ribs.
Freya paused. Her eyes found mine through the veil of moonlight. “Well. I best make her proud. Shoo!” She pushed me toward the door.
Bare toes skimmed cool stone as I crept forward and pulled the heavy wood open. I peeked into the dim hall.
Draconia slept. In Radaan, the halls glowed, lit bright even at midnight. Here, mage lights hovered in silence, flickering on spent magic, waiting for the Vessels to revive them.
No guards. No footsteps trailing mine.
I slipped into the corridor, clutching the cape tight to my chest. Freya told me they roomed Kallias close—on my floor, not among the nobles below. Perhaps Father offered him that much mercy. A subtle nod of favor.
I kept to the wall, weaving past Ronan’s chambers. To be caught by him would mean weeks of smugness. He wouldn’t snitch, but he’d never let me live it down.
Rugs detailed with tribal designs muffled my steps, and I came to a stop before a plain wooden doorframe. No engraved flourishes. No gilded trim. Solid. Unassuming.
My throat rasped with dryness, but I swallowed it down and turned the handle.
The hinges held silent. I slid through and eased the door shut, letting the latch settle without a sound. Shadows swallowed the receiving room, but a low, white glow flickered from the next chamber.
Greaves hadn’t been returned. He was still grounded on the level below.
Kallias was alone.
My heart kicked. Not from fear—but the rush of secrecy, the draw of seeing him without court stares or whispers behind fans.
I crept toward the doorway.
He lay stretched across the bed, a shaft of moonlight cast over his body like a blessing.
Breath caught in my throat. One arm draped over his face, shielding his eyes. My father’s old leathers hugged him well, silver stitching catching the light in quiet glimmers.
My heart slammed into my ribs.
His trousers sat unfastened. Pale skin peeked above the open seam. His hand disappeared under the waistband.
Blood flushed to my face. I stared at the place where his fingers vanished. One leg stretched long and straight. The other bent outward, knee angled wide. Bare feet sprawled across the linens.
So exposed. Unarmed. Beautiful.
I glanced at the window. The curtains stood open. If a rider passed, their dragon might glimpse me through the glass. But I wouldn’t close it. Not if it meant dimming the sight before me.
The stone chilled my soles as I padded to the bed and paused. His tousled hair, dark and messy. Lips soft and still. The scruff on his jaw had grown longer than he kept it in Radaan—silver dusted the edges. His leather jacket clung to his chest, buckled to his throat, though one clasp hung loose.
I chewed my lip, nerves humming. My eyes drifted again to where his hand vanished. The heat in my body surged. My thighs clenched, and I bit down on a gasp.
How did anyone resist him?
Tall. Sculpted. Sin incarnate.
A vision flashed—me straddling his hips, jacket undone, lips brushing his chest as I peeled him free of leather. My hands moved lower, my mouth trailing after…
The fingers in his trousers twitched.
I jolted, my knee smacking the bedframe.
Frozen. Breath held. I waited.
He didn’t stir.
I winced and placed my palms on the mattress.
He moved.
An arm hooked under mine. In a single pull, he dragged me onto the bed. My head struck near the footboard. His hips pinned me down, one hand catching my wrist, pressing it above me.
A whimper escaped me. His body settled into place—heat and weight claiming the space between us.
Sky-blue eyes blinked, then his brow creased as he scanned the room, muscles taut, every inch of him alert.
My chest heaved in short bursts. My nerves screamed—move, speak, breathe. He felt so good against me, his hard frame pressed into my soft curves.
His gaze fell back to mine. “Are you alone?” His voice, hoarse from sleep, rasped across my skin.
I caught my lip between my teeth and his stare dropped to my mouth. I writhed, hips rocking into his. A surge of pleasure cracked through me. My spine arched.
“I came to talk,” I gasped, forcing myself to keep my eyes open, to hold his gaze and not surrender to the heat.
His hand shifted to grip my side and he sat back, pulling his body away from me. He drew the cape aside and his stare swept over my gown, darkening. “Gods, Nienna. You didn’t come here to talk.”
My chest rose in hard, uneven bursts. He winced and let himself drop beside me, limbs stiff, a groan tearing loose as he hit the mattress.
“Sun above,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “I feel like a dragon chewed me up and spat me out.” His gaze drifted to me, trailing up from my chest before locking on my face.
A twist of guilt pulled at me. I shifted, propping myself on one elbow. “You spoke with my father?”
He grunted and stared at the ceiling, then drew his lids shut. “The man won’t give you up easy.”
“But he’s open to negotiations?” I asked, scrutinizing his every move.
He turned, rubbing his chest with a grimace before pinning me with a sharp look. “Nienna. I’m not leaving this island without you.”