Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nienna
The next day, Kallias appeared as if nothing had happened. If I hadn’t seen the anguish twisting his expression, the way he fought Greaves off like a man cornered, I would’ve doubted my own memory.
He walked proud. Shoulders loose, stride fluid, the chains of his mantle swaying with each step. His hair had been combed, face calm, the bruised shadows beneath his eyes faint but there.
He took his place at the table like a man born to it, launching back into negotiations without hesitation. Greaves had mentioned he’d slept poorly the night before. I witnessed the nightmare claw its way free. I heard the broken sound in his voice.
But I didn’t understand the cause.
A quiet ache curled through my chest. His last marriage had been miserable—abusive, if I dared name it. And here I was, dragging him into another. He’d chosen solitude, carrying Radaan on his back, content to shoulder its weight alone. Then I crashed into his world.
Our love was neither simple nor planned. But it was real.
Mother and Father carried the discussion forward, and I stayed seated beside them, silent, listening. They didn’t brief him in private beforehand—it showed yesterday. He’d need my insight in time, but I couldn’t make it obvious I favored him over my family.
“You want my men on the Wild Shores, where your dragons refuse to linger?” Kallias tilted his head, his tone unreadable.
“We can negotiate a fair wage,” Father answered with a sigh. “But your people bring knowledge. Mine understand the tides, not the timberlands. I’m asking for shared labor. Our hands, your minds.”
Fallione bent closer and murmured into his king’s ear. He leaned into him, considering.
“I will trade Vessels,” he said at last.
Father’s hum was low, pleased.
Kallias understood Draconis worked abroad—our Vessels traveled to the islands of the Kulletti, the Innaki, the Ivetti. If riders could ferry them as needed, his kingdom would gain steady magic, never forced to wait for their return.
A bold counter, but a wise one.
“You ask my people to tread unfamiliar shores,” Kallias continued. “I request the same. Send willing participants to help Radaan flourish.”
“And who,” Father asked, “will give them instruction?”
“Your daughter.” He didn’t flinch, tone flat as if stating a fact.
My eyes jumped to Mother. Her lips twitched before she dipped in a subtle nod. Joy stirred in my chest. These were moves Tallon never could’ve dreamed of making.
“The Dragon Riders will obey her as well,” Father added.
At that, he bristled. “I object. If she falls ill, or if we’re attacked, I must be able to issue orders.”
“No. Dragons answer only to Draconis.”
A slow breath swelled in his chest. He exhaled through his nose and gave a single, hesitant nod. “Agreed.”
“Another thing,” Mother said. “We require a traditional wedding.”
Fallione frowned, flipping through his pages.
“I’ll need specifics.” Kallias’ eyes narrowed on her. “But there’s one issue. I’m not Draconis. I have no dragon to tour the island.”
“Argos will fly you,” Father replied.
I jabbed my foot beneath the table, catching his ankle. He looked at me, brows raised, smirking in silent defiance.
Kallias deadpanned. “They won’t carry a Radaanian.”
“He will.”
A choked laugh burst from Ronan before he could stop it. He slapped a hand over his mouth, snorting behind his fingers. I glared, warning him with a look.
Kallias blinked. “On his back?”
“In his claws.”
“Alive?”
“Or dead.” A roar shook the Spire’s stones. Argos answering Father’s challenge.
I stifled a groan and shut my eyes.
“I will do what’s asked of me,” Kallias said. “Though I request a Radaanian wedding as well.”
My heart surged to my throat. I turned to him, and his gaze met mine, a flicker of mischief behind it.
Mother’s brow pinched. “But you will be joined here?”
“The marriage shall be consummated here, and you’ll have your month,” he agreed. “But my people want to celebrate. Their blessing matters.”
“Nienna?” Father’s tone opened the floor for me.
I swallowed, fingers clenched tight in my lap. “Are there any ceremonies I should prepare for?”
“My advisors can fill you in.” His voice rumbled low. He wasn’t just offering tradition—he was asking for trust. I understood what marrying a prince meant. A king, though? That path remained unlit.
“I agree.” I trusted him. If Radaan needed a wedding, I would give them one.
“Settled then. Draconia is pleased with this union. Are there any addendums from Radaan?” Father asked.
“None.”
“Eamon, ready the treaty. We’ll sign tomorrow on the common level where all can witness this joining. A promise of peace—a bright future for us all.” He stood, voice carrying the weight of finality.
And just like that, it was done.
After all the heated talks and drawn lines, it felt too simple. But Kallias had risked far more—his life, his pride, even dragonfire—for this moment. For the chance to sign that treaty. For the right to marry me.
Dismissed, I walked past his chambers, though every part of me ached to be there. Instead, I followed the call that drifted through the Cireendium—Kalepsi.
At the Nest’s threshold, I laughed aloud.
Chaos ruled.
Dragonlings clambered over Kalepsi’s bulk—two perched on her back, another gnawing on a tail spike. She flicked the thick appendage, knocking the offender sideways and snorted, unimpressed.
“They’re restless,” I said through a laugh, picking my way across scattered white bones. The collection had grown with the clutch. Argos brought fresh kills daily.
The hatchlings caught sight of me and scrambled forward, claws clacking on bone and stone. Kalepsi snarled in warning, hissed, and every one of them froze. Their heads turned in unison. She chuffed, then clicked her teeth—a reminder. I had no wings. No armor.
The smokey blue crept close, head low, neck stretched like a cautious horse. His eyes shone, pupils wide with interest. Pale ivory fangs already pushed through his lips.
I didn’t stop. My fingers brushed up the bridge of his nose, then scratched behind the horns. He chirped and followed me, tail swaying, until I reached the heart of the Nest.
Despite the bloodied bones, the space felt clean. Wind poured in from every side, cool and sharp, sweeping the scent away.
Kalepsi waited until I’d settled, then herded her brood toward me. I hummed while a red one flopped down, pressing a warm, heavy head to my lap. With an impatient grunt, the purple dragon clawed her way to the ledge, tail swinging in agitation, sending bones flying. In a breath, she was gone.
Argos coasted past the Spire with a low purr, baiting her to follow.
The red chirped once as if verifying its mother left it with me—alone—in the care of a tiny human. With a puff of air, the beast surrendered, sinking its weight against me. I rubbed the ridged scales, smiling at the absurdity of it all.
I stayed for hours, waiting on Kalepsi. She needed time away from her clutch. They could fly, even hunt, but she wouldn’t trust the other dragons near them.
Between lullabies, I broke up two squabbles over whose head got my lap, and three more over favorite bones. When their mother returned, the sun had dipped low, bathing the Nest in copper light.
She needed the break. Her scales shimmered with sweat and blood, a strip of raw flesh snagged between her teeth. Even mothers had to eat.
The moment her claws touched stone, her head swung toward the Spire door. She curled her lip, snarling low.
I followed her glare—and my breath caught.
Kallias leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His mouth tugged into a content smile. He barely spared Kalepsi a glance, standing right inside the threshold where he’d be safe. Most wouldn’t have risked even that.
“Come get your babies!” I shouted, pushing against the weight of a black-scaled head. The hatchling snorted, wedging in closer and fake-snoring with eyes squeezed shut. I laughed and yanked on its horns.
One growl from Kalepsi and it snapped upright, trilling in surrender. She stalked forward, nosing through my hair. Warm breath lifted the strands. I rubbed the velvet-soft scales framing her bloodied lips.
She lipped at my fingers, purring deep in her chest, then shoved bones aside with a flick of her tail and collapsed beside us. Her stomach hit the stone, and the hatchlings swarmed her. One dug at her fangs, determined to pry loose the remnants of meat wedged there.
I peeled myself up, legs numb, and stumbled toward Kallias. A rib bone caught my foot. He twitched forward like he might catch me, but held his ground. He knew better than to rush into a dragon’s nest.
When I reached him, I pressed a kiss to his cheek, sagging into him.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to have six heart attacks from claws or teeth too close to you,” he muttered. He shifted, settling back against the stone wall, then drew me into his arms.
“They know better.” I sank into him with a grateful sigh. “Did you need me?”
“Always,” he said, grinning.
“Should I call you my husband-to-be now?” I murmured.
His eyes crinkled with quiet joy. “The treaty is signed tomorrow. Until then, I’m a king and you are a princess. Two foreign nations.”
“You’re a little close for a man who represents only that.”
His brows rose. “Should I let you go?”
I curled in tighter, resting my cheek on his chest, eyes drifting to the Nest. My dragons dozed, blanketed in bones and death.
“Never.”
“Where are you in your cycle?”
Freya choked at my mother’s bluntness—but I knew better than to flinch.
“Half-moon,” I said, deadpanning as Edith wove strands of my hair into a braid.
Mother hummed and scratched something onto a paper at my desk. “Perhaps we’ll get two tries at a babe while you’re here,” she mused.
“I’m thinking more than that,” Freya whispered.