Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Nereus waited by the doors, and after I shoved my boots on, he left without another word. Greaves stayed behind, and as I followed the king into the quiet halls, Ronan slid into position, falling into step at our backs.
I kept pace with Nienna’s father, side by side as we ascended the spiraling path around the Cireendium. Light flickered in its sconces, so dim it cast more shadow than flame. Moonlight did more.
Our footsteps whispered through the silence. No voices. No other sound.
We passed corridor after corridor—throne room, the landing, the heart of the palace. Each one we left behind wound the tension tighter. My bones grew heavy with it.
The path ended in a dead hush. One door stood ahead.
Just as Nereus opened it, Ronan snapped his fingers. A ball of flame zipped past, illuminating a sharp incline.
My jaw locked as my teeth ground together. Worry skated across my nerves. I hated being kept in the dark, unprepared.
The creak of their leather joined our footsteps. No one spoke. The stairs wound forever, and at the top, the space narrowed to a cramped landing with a single door. From the low snarl just on the other side, I knew.
The Nest.
“I don’t do this for you,” Nereus said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Frustration carved lines deep into his face. “But for her.”
“We won’t mourn your loss,” Ronan quipped.
His father shot him a glare, then opened the door.
Wind slammed into me. A furious roar followed, rattling in my chest. Bones littered the moonlit stone, fragments of shell scattered like shattered armor. Piles of debris filled the space—chewed, broken, old.
A predator’s den.
Nereus clapped a hand to my shoulder as I crossed the threshold, then shut the door behind me, sealing me in.
Pale light danced across golden horns as the beast lifted her head, showing her fangs. She sat just a stone’s throw away, but I knew her. I recognized the violet scales and the fury in her eyes. The same dragon who’d tried to char me during the trial.
She remembered. And something told me she regretted not devouring me then.
Argos loomed at the edge of the Nest, a mountain of black shadow. His claws sank into the stone. He didn’t move. Didn’t growl. Just watched, pupils narrowed.
But it was the figure at the dragon’s feet that held me.
Nienna.
She sat wrapped in a dark blue shawl, a thin laced nightdress beneath. Her expression froze when she saw me. She scrambled to stand as the beast above her lowered its head, sparks shedding from its jaws.
I flexed my fingers. No sword. No shield. Not even a stick.
Nienna whispered to it, one hand stroking its rigid jaw. The dragon snorted, baring her fangs, then tucked them away. She turned, coiling around a cluster of eggs—massive, rough-shelled, and still.
What monsters would claw out of those?
Nienna grinned and tip-toed through the cracked bones, her pale feet bare. I scoffed at her recklessness, scanning the sharp debris. The floor was jagged, scattered with broken remains—femurs thicker than my arm, splintered in two. Shells as wide as shields littered the black rock.
“Why—how are you here?” she asked, breathless, voice low. She clutched her shawl tight across her chest.
Gods, that dragon studied me as if I were a snack. “Your father dropped me off and wished for the best.”
She beamed, all affection and relief. “He brought you to me.” Her posture eased as she stepped beside me, leaning into my side. “They’re close to hatching. She won’t let anyone else in.”
“Not even your father?” I asked, flicking a glance toward Argos still crouched at the ledge, keeping his distance.
“Not even the king.”
“Yet she allows you to sit at her feet?”
“She sees me as her wingless babe,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder. “I’m always welcome.”
“And I am… tonight’s appetizer?”
She laughed, fingers curling around my arm.
“She’ll tolerate you because I ask. But this is as far as I’ll risk you.
” Her voice softened. “Dragons are volatile when their young hatch. Vulnerable. And dangerous. Kalepsi doesn’t have a rider, so she’s bound to kill anything that moves. Man or dragon.”
“Hence the distance from her mate?”
“She only tolerates him because of his size,” she said, grinning. “Otherwise, she’d chase him off, too.”
“Compassionate creatures,” I muttered.
For sentient beings, Nienna was right. Without riders, they acted on instinct. Brilliant minds, no temperance. No mercy.
I frowned, pulling her closer. “And the Wild Shores? No riders there.”
She nodded, gaze fixed on Kalepsi as the dragon released a croon—low, guttural, and deep enough to vibrate the floor beneath our feet. Loose pebbles rattled.
Perhaps that was why the dragons didn’t stay. They would have to fight for territory there. Those dragons—feral, cunning, without empathy—wouldn’t reason or listen. Not like the ones here.
We waited, lost in our thoughts, as the sun began to rise.
In Radaan, the sunsets were a thing of beauty. Watching the sun dip below the golden fields after a long day of work—it was beautiful and inspiring. But here, in Draconia, it was the sunrises that brought the world to its knees.
We stayed curled together, my back against cold stone, Nienna tucked in my lap. Her cheek pressed to my chest, my chin on her golden hair. The scent of waterlilies clung to her skin. Lace brushed my thumb as I held her waist.
Our words were soft. Fragments of a conversation between lovers, drifting like smoke. No titles. No weight. Just her. Just me.
Then–
A crack.
Nienna bolted upright with a gasp, her elbow digging into my ribs. Her shawl slipped, falling from her shoulders and baring her back.
Gone was my claim against her skin.
She belonged to the dragons now.
I chuckled, nudging her off. “Go on. See your dragons.”
She needed no further encouragement. With a grateful smile, she launched from my lap and darted through the graveyard of a nest. I flinched when she stumbled, heart seizing. One misstep and she’d be skewered on those ivory spikes—but this was her world.
Kalepsi lowered her snout, nostrils flaring as she sniffed the eggs. Her pupils flared, then constricted to slits. When Nienna leaned against a claw thick as her torso, the great dragon let out a soft croon.
A pale egg cracked. A jagged line split the shell, and a muffled squeal tore through the lair. The thing inside thrashed, venting its fury. I drew a knee up, leaning forward, watching.
The top burst open. A smoky blue head pushed through, blinking eyes gleaming like wet river rock. Slitted pupils narrowed as it studied the world, then it ducked back into the shell.
I smiled at its retreat.
The egg exploded. Fragments flew, rattling across the stone. The creature surged out, hissing as it shook off the confines of its prison. It wasn’t afraid—it was enraged.
Slick wings sagged under their own weight. It staggered, crumpling sideways. Kalepsi answered with a gentle warble, the tone coaxing. The hatchling blinked up at her.
Then it turned and locked eyes with Nienna.
My smile faded.
It bared tiny teeth and snapped. I tensed, palm flat on my thigh, resisting the urge to yank her back. Her voice drifted through the air, soft and steady. She didn’t flinch. It cocked its head, predator-like. Her lips curled into a quiet grin as she murmured something I couldn’t hear.
Clumsily, it rose. Wings tucked tight, it stood, swaying on legs too new to trust.
It struck.
Its muzzle slammed into her palm—teeth closed harmlessly.
Her laughter rang out, clear and sweet, and relief dropped from my chest like a stone. The little beast, slick with egg and trembling with life, stumbled into her. Kalepsi hissed, batting it aside with a casual flick. It tumbled, huffed, then settled its head on Nienna’s lap.
Pride hit me so hard I had to exhale. Dragons adored her. She could have ruled an empire with them and still, she chose to love me. This was her palace, surrounded by beasts and bone, danger and fire. She belonged in the heart of it.
Eggs split, one by one, like oversized chicks clawing into daylight. Only, these chicks could swallow a man whole.
I remained by the wall, spine stiff, as the hatchlings clawed free beneath Kalepsi’s vigilant stare. Argos never moved. Whenever I shifted to ease the ache in my back, she hissed as if I’d threatened her clutch.
Even after the last egg cracked, Nienna stayed among them. The firstborn blue clutched her shawl in its teeth, snarling as siblings fought over the torn fabric. They stalked among the bone-pile, sniffing for movement.
Restless.
Argos rose and leapt from the Spire’s ledge.
One of the red hatchlings, hide the color of dried blood, nosed at Nienna’s dress and nipped the hem.
“No.” She batted it away with her finger pointed to its snout, voice firm.
Kalepsi backed the command with a hiss, teeth bared behind Nienna. The redling flinched, twisting to growl at its siblings instead.
Moments later, Argos returned, clutching a thrashing shark in his jaws. The sea-beast dangled like a toy. Compared to the dragon, it barely counted as a meal. Still, it would feed the hatchlings.
Argos landed near the Nest’s edge, posture cautious, scarlet dripping from his fangs.
Kalepsi’s lip curled in warning, then she returned her attention back to her young.
Apparently, that was permission.
He stepped forward, and a single drop of blood splattered against a dragonling’s paw. It stared, transfixed by the crimson spot. Nose twitching, it flicked out its tongue to taste it.
Chaos erupted.
Screeching, the small beast launched upward, wings flapping, and latched onto the shark’s tail.
Argos released the carcass. The hatchlings shrieked, lunged, and swarmed the prize.
Limbs tangled, claws flashed, teeth tore into flesh.
Nienna didn’t blink when a chunk of flesh hit her face and smeared crimson across her cheek and down the front of her dress.
My stomach twisted as a gold dragonling bolted for her.
Kalepsi’s paw intercepted it, knocking the beast aside before it collided with her.
And Tallon thought he could scare Nienna by feeding some dogs.
In mere moments, only scraps remained. They fought over those too, dragging splintered pieces to the Nest’s sunlit edge. There, they sprawled to dry, wings spread like stained silk, bones clutched between their claws.
Nienna approached, her smile sheepish. Dried gore crusted her skin and hair. Her white lace dress bore rust-colored smears. It chafed at my soul to see her covered in blood. I’d seen too much of it on the battlefield—my mind screamed she was hurt.
“And Tallon thought he could scare you.” I rose and stretched, working the tightness from my back.
“I assure you, this is normal,” she blurted. “It’s how they figure out the pecking order.”
“Like chickens.”
Her jaw dropped, and laughter erupted from her throat. “I’d hardly compare them to domesticated hens.” She gasped, eyes bright, breath stolen. “Let me rephrase—they are establishing their hierarchy.”
“Spoken as a true princess.” I drew her in, and she bit her lip, leaning into my side.
Argos crept toward Kalepsi. She snarled and snapped, sending him to retreat. With a groan, he slunk away, tail dragging.
“He’ll feed her,” she said, tone filled with contentment. “Then the hatchlings will fly. And the Awakening will end.”
“A three-day festival.” My thumb traced her bare shoulder. Warm. Whole. Her smooth skin assured me she was well, despite being covered in gore.
“We time them well.” She glanced up. “We’ve done this for centuries.”
I nodded. “Then negotiations will begin. Radaan needs a queen.”
When her gaze found mine, color bloomed on her cheeks.
Her hand pressed to my stomach, light as breath. “Then she shall have one.”