Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nienna
The next evening brought the kite parade.
We walked among the crowd beneath the bruised sky, the air laced with salt and laughter.
Rough displays bobbed on short strings, their crooked frames pieced together by little hands.
Others soared higher—sleek, intricate, the work of seasoned fliers.
The beach stretched under a canopy crammed with color, Draconis kites weaving in and out of clouds like stitched flame.
Ours carried the legacy of our ancestors, their frames constructed unlike any from distant shores—lighter, stronger. The craft passed down through generations, born from wherever they’d first set sail, then refined with magic.
Glowing trails marked the dusk, streaking the air like fallen stars.
Swirls of green shimmered alongside veins of blue.
Threads of pink and purple danced with streaks of crimson, sunburst yellow glinting in between.
Power once locked in dragons now spilled through the hands of common folk, letting them share the sky with their rider kin.
Scaled bodies banked through the upper wind, dipping into the waves, scattering spray with their wings. They chased each other in wide arcs, unbound by any rule but instinct. Overhead, the sunset poured fire through the drifting clouds.
I gripped Kallias’ elbow, steering him toward the northernmost edge of Draconia.
This location mattered. Radaan waited across the sea. He should launch the final kite from here.
Mother and Father let me take the lead, though custom frowned on it. He was still a foreign king. But they understood how important this was to me.
We climbed the cliffside path, rocks biting through the soles of my boots, sea wind tugging at my braid. The trail hugged the cliff, sharp and narrow, until the land opened at the top.
Williard waited for us there, the gale snapping at his clothes. A green-and-gold display rested in his hands—dragon-shaped, its wings spread to catch the ocean breeze. Bird bones lined the open mouth, jagged and pale like teeth.
With a slight bow, the master kite maker offered it to Kallias, who accepted with reverence. It fit easily in his arms—modest, unassuming.
I smiled. Appearances could be deceiving.
We stepped away from Williard, Kallias unwinding the cord. His brow tightened as he gauged the wind, fingers careful and deliberate.
“When was the last time you flew a kite?” I asked, eyes on the crowd swelling below us.
“Never.”
My chest clenched. I turned, blinking to hide the jolt. “Never?”
“I’ve seen it done,” he muttered, testing the air with his hand.
Guilt rippled through me. I pushed him into this—an act steeped in tradition, one that mattered to my people—and never asked if he was ready. I failed him.
“You have to toss it off the cliff.” I angled my body between him and the watching crowd. “Keep the wings flat. Line it with the horizon.”
I took the cord, giving him both hands to guide the launch. The updraft would do the rest.
His jaw clenched. Silence swept over the beach below, heavy and expectant. The sea wind curled around us. Kallias steadied the kite, green wings outstretched, arms firm against the pull.
He released it.
Then it dropped.
My breath lodged in my throat—then the dragon snapped upward, caught by the current. It soared past, the string whistling through my fingers until it drew tight with a sharp tug.
I passed it to Kallias. My heart thudded against my ribs.
I wanted to warn him. Tell him to mind the line, keep it level. But he didn’t need me to coddle him.
He was a king.
Sunlight skimmed the kite’s hide, catching every scale of painted silk. Far above, Tsunami and Naksula circled, their interest piqued by the stranger among them.
“Get ready to loose it,” I said, watching the sky.
“Tell me when.” He didn’t question why—he trusted me.
That teased a smile from my lips. I stepped behind him and laid my hand between his shoulders. Cold chain met my skin through his mantle.
I shifted, letting the crowd see him fully.
He wasn’t a threat. He was our turning point. Through our marriage, Radaan’s grain would fill our stores. Our reach would stretch toward the Wild Shores. With his alliance, we’d rival the greatest nations of the world.
The kite dipped, a spark of radiance hovering above the water.
“Now.”
He let go.
The display faltered, wobbling in the wind, uncertain in its freedom.
Then it exploded.
Magic burst like dragonfire—violent, radiant. Tendrils of every color erupted, warping the air in a dazzling twist. Kallias’ back went rigid, the only hint he gave of surprise.
The kite remained aloft while Father’s spell—channeled through Williard—thrashed like the limbs of a squid, writhing around bone and hide. Sunlight winked out behind the growing storm of power. The sky ignited. Magic solidified midair, a flare of blazing multi-color lines.
A beast of light burst forth, mouth yawning in a silent roar.
Argos echoed the gesture overhead, wings flaring wide.
The gale of his passage ripped at my dress, beating the illusionary beast away from the cliff’s edge.
The spectral dragon stirred with uncanny life, body churning, neck arcing to follow its real counterpart.
Its eyes locked on us—twin stars, searing and alive. It hovered, beating its wings once as if in approval. Then it turned skyward and streaked into the air, chasing constellations.
The crowd below gasped, a chorus of awe rising as the dragon spiraled higher, its bright tail slicing the dusk. My grin ached across my cheeks, but I leaned into Kallias, his gaze fixed on the sky, head tilted back.
The creature flared—its form blinking white—then shattered.
Light burst outward, fragments streaking the heavens in a cascade of color.
Cheers erupted from the beach. Kites dropped as people scrambled to reel them in, eyes turned upward to follow the glowing debris.
The magical remnants joined the stars above, brighter now, drifting and spinning on unseen currents.
“It’s beautiful.” The words slipped from me, barely a breath.
“It pales in comparison to you,” Kallias said. His voice settled deep, coaxing my gaze back to him. A flicker of a smile traced his lips, his eyes trailing across my face before settling on my mouth. His hand rested at my waist, gentle, a suggestion more than a pull.
The magic of the moment pulled us closer together. My heart pounded against my ribs. Heat gathered beneath my skin. I licked my lips, suddenly dry, and caught his eyes following the motion. His smile vanished.
What replaced it looked hungry—needy.
Butterflies surged low in my belly, urging me closer.
His gaze flicked past my shoulder. A breath snagged in his throat. The spark in his expression died, shuttered beneath a veil of restraint.
“This is the fun part.” I pivoted toward Williard, bowing in thanks.
Kallias mirrored the motion and followed me down the cliffside. Laughter broke out across the sand. Lovers dashed into the streets. Older couples lingered in the tide, wrapped in peaceful embraces as they watched the sparks spiral earthward.
Mother and Father stood, waves lapping at their boots. Father’s arm curled around her waist, and she leaned in, quiet and content.
I tugged Kallias toward the city.
“And what happens now, Princess?” His voice dropped low, just for me. He moved easily beside me, Greaves shadowing us the moment we hit the shore.
“You’ll dismiss Greaves.”
The guard arched a brow, his chin lifting, but his eyes never left Kallias. Stars shimmered in their brown depths. I wasn’t his queen yet. He wouldn’t take orders from me.
“Your demand insinuates you need the opposite,” Greaves said, tone flat but watchful.
“This is my people’s night. They are too busy to attack him.”
Wind surged overhead—another dragon passing low. Kallias squeezed my hand, his elbow tucked in tight, a warning to tread carefully.
“Go. I’ll return to my rooms later,” he said aloud, voice casual enough to slip beneath the revelry.
Greaves drew in a long breath. His shoulders squared as he pulled himself upright. After a pause, he stepped back. “You were easier to protect before her.” The edge in his words softened with a smirk.
Kallias scoffed and spun me toward the winding streets.
We ran.
Through alleys and passageways, past flushed cheeks and tangled limbs. His shoulder brushed mine at every turn, solid and close. A drifting fleck of magic caught on his mantle, clinging like a whisper that he was still a king—racing through the dark as a commoner.
Dragons swept overhead, wings stirring the warm night as we burst into the palace courtyard. We climbed the Spire steps two at a time.
“Where are we going, Nienna?” His breath came quick. He glanced back just as Gyrak and Naneki careened past, yelling as they dove after flickering sparks.
“To the landing!” I called, laughing. My hand dropped to catch his, fingers threading through his without hesitation. His callouses scraped against my skin, his palm rough and warm.
He followed. A king. Older. Wiser. Still suffering my demands, letting me lead.
A crooked smile touched his lips, cautious and fond. But his eyes kept flicking to the corners, the walls, the darkened halls.
He expected betrayal at every turn. Braced for it, even here. Tallon and Eldeiade had carved that fear into his bones.
I hated them for it.
I pulled him into a quiet corridor. Shoved him back against the wall. Kissed him.
He grunted in surprise, mantle slamming into stone. His hands caught my arms, holding me in place. His jaw locked. Whatever emotion darkened his eyes, it wasn’t surrender.
My hand rose to cradle the nape of his neck, fingers sliding into his short hair. I tugged him toward me, rising onto my toes. “We’re alone.”
“For how long?” His words rasped against my lips, wariness flickering and vanishing in a blink.