Chapter Twenty-Three
Kallias
The glow refused to fade. It spread instead—water sloshing against my hands, dragging streaks of iridescence into the basin.
My free palm glimmered now, eerie and unnatural.
I’d wiped my cheek without thinking; my jaw burned with residual light.
Flecks clung to strands of my hair and dotted the hollow of my neck.
The rest belonged to Nienna.
Her name flowed across my chest, pulsing with each heartbeat. A small handprint lingered at my navel, a branded echo of intimacy. Too close. Too knowing. That mark screamed of hunger—mine—for her.
The door creaked open. I stilled. Listened.
Quiet steps. Heavy. Unhurried. No knock.
Greaves.
He passed the dressing room without pause, casting a glance before disappearing into the bedchamber for his sweep.
I dropped my gaze back to her name. Shame curled through me, flushed heat up my neck. He’d call it foolish. Reckless. What was she doing to me—this woman—to an older king who should’ve known restraint?
“You’re lit up like a firefly,” he grumbled, returning. His eyes cut over the space, scanning shadows as his hands unbuckled twin blades, setting them on the low dresser.
Then he caught my reflection in the mirror. His brow dipped. His steps slowed.
“Fallione?” I asked, deflecting.
“Out cold in the library.” He stopped behind me, eyes narrowing. “Gods, Kal—did you do the same to her?”
His jaw ticked, disapproval etched deep.
He knew my promise to Nereus. I couldn’t bed her. But that vow wouldn’t hold if someone spotted my name written between her breasts. Thankfully, that darker animal inside me had settled for her back.
Elohios, if it had been her chest…
We would’ve been covered in the damning light.
“It fades before morning,” I said, wiping my face. The rag dragged a smear across my nose and eyes, but at least I was clean.
“She told you that?”
“She’s a princess.” I kept the rag from soaking the letters above my heart. “She knows the customs.”
“If someone–” He bit down on the rest. His gaze met mine in the glass. We both knew what lingered unsaid. Nereus tolerated me, but no treaty meant no shield. If I crossed too far, the man might feed me to Argos and never blink.
“How am I supposed to save you from yourself?” he muttered, turning to tear off his black tunic.
I let the cloth drop, shifting to face him. My hips rested against the dresser’s edge. “Sometimes, you can’t.” He knew that. I’d made choices before, and I would suffer or thrive by them.
“You don’t know how hard it was to watch you in that godsforsaken mockery of a trial.” He folded his tunic with stiff, angry hands. “I couldn’t do anything, and it’s my job to keep you safe. And when you wed Nienna? What then?”
“You remain my guard.” I pressed my lips together, squinting at him.
He laughed without smiling. “You’ll have me here? In your rooms? I’ve seen how you are with her. Do not lie to me. Don’t pretend you’d want anyone near when you…” He grimaced, dropping his tunic on the dresser. “When you consummate your union.”
There was more to this than just that. Something deeper stirred beneath the surface, antagonizing him from within.
“You will stand guard outside the room,” I said. Measured. Calm. “When it’s done, you’d return to my side.”
His frown deepened. “What about when she’s dressing? When you’re asleep? How do I protect you if I’m not there?”
There it was.
His swords hit the dresser with a loud clatter. More knives followed, metal stacking in sharp, discordant notes.
He didn’t fear for my safety.
He feared being left behind.
When I married Nienna, it would force distance between us.
He’d lose me. And he knew it.
“Greaves, you are my guard. My chosen.” I moved toward him, clapped a firm hand to his shoulder. “You’re mine. You’ve seen her in a nightdress. Gods, I don’t want you seeing her in less, but if it happens, it does so in the name of protection. You will watch over our rooms.”
“And where would you stick me? The receiving room?” He yanked his belt free with a sharp tug, not meeting my eyes. “What if you take a guest there? How unseemly would that be, your guard’s bed in the open? Or should I stand out in the hall through the night?”
“If you don’t sleep when I do, when will you?” I scoffed. “You’ll stay in the suite.”
“And if she refuses?” he asked, his tone clipped. “You know she’s not exactly fond of me.”
“If I have to rip apart the Golden Palace and build you a wing, then so be it.” This had his hackles up. Not even my marriage to Eldeiade had stirred him like this.
His glare slid sideways. “She needs her own protection. I can’t guard you both.”
“I’ll appoint her a Thresher.”
He snorted. “She’ll be thrilled.”
“As thrilled as she is with kahve.” I grinned.
That cracked his edge. His shoulders lowered, and he brushed my hand away, stomping toward the bedchamber. His cot sat at the foot of my bed. He slipped a dagger beneath his pillow, then jabbed a finger at me.
“I choose her guard.”
“I would trust no one else.”
He gave a grunt and dropped to the cot. My brow pulled into a frown. He was older than me, made no complaints, never asked for more. But he shouldn’t sleep on stone-stiff bedding after years at my side. His body deserved better.
Groaning as my back slowly relaxed, the tight muscles releasing the strain of the day, I closed my eyes.
He was right. I didn’t want him in the room—not with Nienna. The idea of sharing a bed with a woman still felt foreign. If she even wanted that. My jaw clenched, and I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose. She wasn’t Eldeiade. She craved closeness, not distance.
Which meant things would happen.
The thought raked fire across my skin. I pushed it down. Then shoved harder when more images tried to claw their way forward. No, I wouldn’t want Greaves there. But he had to be near. The receiving room was too exposed. He was right. It wasn’t an appropriate place for him.
Fallione would have a plan. He always did.
If I was to face a future in Radaan, I’d need both Nienna and Greaves at my side.
Bang!
I rolled before my mind caught up. Cold steel bit into my palm as I hit the floor. Dagger gripped tight, I braced against the mattress just as Greaves burst through the doorway.
A sharp grunt had me vaulting over the bed and toward the attacker.
“Call off your dog,” Ronan choked.
Greaves held him in the half-light, blade bare against his throat. His arm locked around the prince’s chest, and though he looked reluctant, he let go as soon as the prince spoke.
He was only a guard.
“Knock next time,” I snapped, pushing hair from my face. He knew better. Greaves nearly carved him open.
“I came to fetch you—a courtesy. This is how I’m thanked?” He dusted off his riding leathers, smirking. Gods, did he ever wear anything else?
“Who sent for me?” I growled, breath short and sharp. My heart still hammered from the chaos. I sucked in air, forced my lungs to slow, reminding my body I was not, in fact, dying.
“I did.”
My gaze shot past Ronan as a shape pulled free from the dark.
Nereus.
White hair stark against bronze skin. His eyes dragged down my bare torso, pausing low. His expression soured, upper lip curling in disgust as he locked onto the faint handprint glowing on my stomach.
Elohios, guide me.
“Ronan. Hall.” The king’s voice cracked like dry wood, rough and dangerous. His hand rested on the silver pommel at his hip, knuckles bone-white.
Greaves moved in beside me, close and coiled. My pulse drummed in my ears, but I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin.
Ronan’s expression froze, disbelief flickering behind his eyes as his gaze dropped to my chest. He gave a low whistle, dragged a hand through his hair, then turned and walked out, leaving me with the father of the girl whose name glowed across my skin.
“Have you broken yet another oath, Kallias Sunspear?” Nereus’ glare burned through me, tone cracked at the edge like ice under strain.
“If I bedded your daughter, I would have far more handprints on me.”
Anger melded with guilt, swelling inside me. Was there no privacy in this palace? He woke me in the dead of night, and stood fully clothed in dark leather while I wore naught but my underbreeches.
He bared his teeth in response, and I turned toward the dressing room. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching from this power play. If he had something to say, he could do so while I dressed.
“What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait for morning?” I asked, tossing the dagger aside and dragging a white tunic over my head. The script on my chest dulled beneath the cloth.
Greaves moved fast, tugging on his own clothes, a blade always within reach.
“I came out of courtesy. Respect that.” Nereus loomed in the doorway like a storm held together by bone and rage. “Dress for a walk. But one you may not survive.”
I barked a dry laugh, stepping into my trousers. “Threatening me now?”
“I don’t threaten. I act.”
Gods, this man. Every word is ominous, every look a challenge. I knew his reputation—passionate, rigid, quick to wrath, but fair. I’d heard it all when I agreed to align Radaan with Draconia.
Meeting him? Different story.
That was my fault, though.
Perhaps he would have been more receptive if I’d started off with honesty—not letting his daughter be dragged back home in tatters.
“He will go alone.”
Nereus’ focus never left me, but he directed the words at Greaves. My guard paused with his sheath halfway to his belt. His eyes cut to mine.
“Another trial?” I asked, sliding a dark green vest over my tunic.
“Perhaps.”
Gods, the withering man made riddles sound like death sentences, scorched and vague. My gaze flicked to my mantle as I passed it, heart clenching. This wasn’t about me as a ruler, but as a man. If my life were truly in danger, he would’ve struck already. And he hadn’t.
That he restrained himself even after seeing Nienna’s marks on my body assured me he wouldn’t call for my head.
At least not tonight.