Chapter 21 #2
When the first bond was forged, the man at center stage clapped, palms sparking. A streak of white light shot from his hands, arching into the crowd. Shouts and cheers erupted.
Nienna’s elbow nudged my ribs. A silent command. I rose with her family and joined the applause.
My eyes swept the small amphitheater. “Your brother doesn’t attend?”
“He’s just a commoner during the Awakening,” she said. “You won’t see him in the Spire tonight.”
Which means one less person walking the halls.
I squashed that thought. I would wait for Nienna, as a proper man would. There would be no hoping she snuck to my rooms.
Nereus and Nyxaria led us through the crowd and across the cleared stage. The celebration had drained itself. Laughter thinned to yawns. Smiles sagged under the lure of sleep. Nienna leaned on my shoulder as we walked, and when her cheek pressed to my mantle, heat stirred in my chest.
Radaan would learn to love her. She would give herself to my kingdom. Win over a people who didn’t yet know her worth.
When we reached the black steps that led up to the Spire, the island had gone silent. No dragons cried. No gulls screamed. The night held its breath. Doors shut. Windows dark. The world tucked in.
Inside the palace, lanterns glowed, casting soft amber across stone and steel, but the mage lights above remained cold and unlit.
“The Vessels are relieved during the festival,” Nienna whispered, her voice thin in the vast corridor. “The riders won’t refill them until it ends.”
“Half your light is magic.” I glanced up. Another contrast—Radaan would’ve burned fish oil to keep the night at bay.
“The dragons need that oil,” Nereus echoed back from his place ahead of us, as if he heard my line of thought. “Magic is a resource, same as anything else.”
At my floor, I slowed, easing out from Nienna’s grip. She clung tighter.
“I’ll see Kallias to his rooms,” she said, tone smooth as ever.
Her parents paused.
Nereus’ tired stare sharpened. It landed on me, flint-hard. I clenched my jaw. His suspicion was earned. This was the price of my earlier recklessness.
Nyxaria inhaled, then exhaled slow through her nose. “Come see me once he’s settled.”
So she’d know the moment Nienna left my quarters. Nereus dipped his chin. The gesture was slight, but heavy with emphasis. A reminder. A warning. His glare flicked past me to Greaves, jaw tightening.
“Good night,” I said, offering a shallow bow. Then I turned down the hall.
I could find my way to bed alone. But I didn’t send her away. Not with shadows whispering promises just out of reach.
Greaves followed, each step a mirror of mine. A quiet rebuke. One I wanted to ignore. I could dismiss him, order him elsewhere, but anyone watching would know exactly what his absence meant.
“The lights are magicked by people, but why the runes?” I asked, forcing my mind from thoughts better left alone.
“It’s easier.” Nienna’s gaze drifted to the dead mage lights along the wall.
“They need Vessels to power them, but the runes are ancient words. They’re phrases to help you remember.
Light to glow, to guide. Measured for use inside.
The spell shifts depending on purpose, but Draconis can’t enchant without them. ”
“And any Vessel can refill them?” I asked as we reached my door. I opened it, unwilling to see her go just yet.
She did not hesitate to enter. Behind her, Greaves frowned. His lips pressed to a line, already dreading where this would lead. I waved him in with a jerk of my head.
“Any can, but no two are the same,” she said, spinning to face me. Her hands found the chains of my mantle. “Some hold more. Some longer.”
I caught her wrist. Letting her unfasten it seemed too intimate. I’d made that mistake once—too soon. Almost gave in.
One day, she’d lift the weight of my kingdom from my shoulders. But not tonight.
Her eyes met mine. Doubt flickered in the ocean-deep blue.
“Greaves can do it.”
Her skin felt impossibly soft beneath my grip. Her full lips parted, and need struck like lightning. Watching her all day had ignited something slow and smoldering, and now it boiled.
She would let me.
If I stepped forward—if I leaned in—she would fold into me without question. We were fated. I crossed the sea for her. Braved dragonfire. And stood here, risking everything for me.
But honor demanded we wait.
“When I make love to you, it will be to a queen. Not a princess.”
Her mouth curved, sly and dangerous. Challenge replaced hesitation. I released her and pointed toward the adjoining room.
“Go. Wait for me.”
She bit her lip, then obeyed.
Greaves moved in with practiced ease, unfastening the chains. His scowl said everything. “You’re playing with fire,” he muttered, lifting the mantle from my shoulders.
A knock on the door. He shut his eyes for a long breath, and I scoffed, already knowing who it would be.
“It’s Fallione. Go eat.”
“And leave you alone with her?” His gaze cut toward the bedchamber. “What happens if you break your word again?”
“Go.” I shoved his shoulder, too tired to argue.
He huffed but opened the door, letting Fallione inside.
“Your Majesty, there are traditions to marrying a Draconis–” He didn’t wait for greeting or permission. Greaves shook his head and slipped into the hall.
“As with any nation,” I muttered, walking to the dressing room. A glance told me Nienna remained hidden, uninterested in political counsel.
“You are expected to ride a dragon.”
That gave me pause.
“Come again?”
Fallione pinched the bridge of his nose. “The groom is to take his bride on a flight around the island. Most males of the royal house of Draconis are riders. You are not.”
I started on the buttons of my vest. Would I need to bond one? Those massive creatures wouldn’t carry just anyone. Only their rider.
Except Nienna.
She was the exception. That meant she was safe. I was not.
“Nereus must have known that when he set the terms.”
“He refuses to discuss anything with me until the Awakening ends.”
I didn’t blame him. After the long day, I wouldn’t want to be bothered either. It wasn’t hard to see why Nereus would turn him away.
“Then we’ll discuss it in negotiations.”
“I apologize for not preparing you for the dragon song–”
“Fallione.” I cut him off, peeling off my vest. He had followed me into foreign lands with no map and no promise of survival.
“Keep the ship steady. Stay in contact with Nereus’ staff.
Advise me as needed. But don’t think I expect you to know everything.
I’m not a young prince anymore. I can handle myself. ”
“Yes, my king. I aim to serve.” He sighed, voice heavy with weariness. “I am sure you’re weary from your travels today.”
“I want nothing more than my bed.” And the woman already in it.
“If anything pressing arises, I will do my best to inform you prior.”
“As expected.” I tugged at my sleeves. “Now go rest. Gods know I won’t get much.” I cast a look toward the other room.
“Good night, my king.” The door clicked softly behind him as he left.
I pulled my tunic free, yanking it over my head. My back screamed from the trial and the endless walking. I hissed and tossed it across a chair.
At the basin, I studied the bandage. Crimson bled through the linen. I peeled it off, revealing a scabbed-over gash just above the old scar from the foothills. Another to add to the tally.
I soaked a cloth and pressed it against the wound. Cool water stung. I bent over the basin, scrubbing sweat and grime from my face and hair. After drying off, I left my trousers on. I might enjoy her games, but I knew my body’s reaction to her well enough that I didn’t trust losing the garment.
Towel slung over my shoulders, I crossed to the bedchamber.
The moon gilded her in silver. Draped in white, her slender form curved atop the blanket. Pale hair spilled across the pillow like silk. She lay facing me, lashes casting faint shadows over her cheeks.
My chest tightened.
She looked fragile—thinner than she’d been in Radaan. I’d done that. Guilt gnawed at me. My mistake hurt her, tortured her, thinking I would just let her go.
Gingerly, I sat on the edge, bending to unlatch my boots. She moaned and wiggled on the bed, teasing a smile from my lips. Kicking my boots off, I set them aside before reclining on the mattress.
There would be more days like this. Duties from dawn until long after dark. A life of serving our kingdoms. If I could give her rest now, I would.
At least one of us deserved sleep.