Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
Edith shot her a warning glare, but she only smiled wide, shoving a red curl behind her ear as she buckled my boots beneath my evergreen dress. I hadn’t worn green since my return. Back then, it marked my failure. Now it symbolized the path ahead.
“I’ve been organizing in hopes the treaty succeeded,” Mother sighed, pressing a finger to the space between her brows. “But it’ll still take days to bring everything together. I worry it won’t be as grand as I’d imagined.”
“Draconis do their best,” I said. “It’s not as if we’ve had months to prepare.”
“Thank the sun,” Freya muttered under her breath.
Edith cleared her throat, but the young maid didn’t yield. She wasn’t under Edith’s charge, not like Scythe. She only smirked and went back to the laces.
“This isn’t just your wedding,” Mother said. “It’s a message to the islanders. They need to see unity. Strength. This union is proof we can rise from past mistakes and reshape them into triumph.”
I pressed my lips together. Brides didn’t plan their own weddings. That belonged to their mothers—and mine had claimed the task with both hands.
“Will you need me after the signing?” I asked, straightening the stiff collar circling my neck. The fabric hugged my throat like armor. Her design. I liked how it felt—imposing.
“No. You’re free to do as you wish.” She turned in her chair. “Did you have plans?”
“I want to take Kallias to the little island.”
“For a swim?”
Edith coughed once and fled the room, but Freya’s head snapped up, amusement gleaming in her eyes.
“I thought it would be nice to get away for a bit,” I said.
“I think you two have gotten away quite enough.” Her tone clipped. “Betrothed or not, standards still stand.”
Relaxed standards. If Tallon and I had been caught wrapped around each other, people would have whispered. No scandal. Only discomfort and gossip.
“I’ll honor them,” I said. “But he needs a break from the palace, the pressure.”
“And your brother can’t take him because?”
I raised a brow. “Ronan?”
She let out a defeated sigh, shaking her head. “Fine. But remember—your father may fly over.”
Freya tied off the last lace, patted my calf, and stood. “You look beautiful. Green suits you.” She winked.
“See her before dinner,” Mother added. “She’ll need the sand scrubbed from her scalp.”
Dismissed, my maid slipped out, and Mother stepped close. Her fingers smoothed the braid over my shoulder, her lips warm against my cheek.
“You’ll be spectacular today.”
I stood, brushing out my skirts. “Redeeming myself?”
“There was no redemption necessary.” She slid her palms down my sleeves, smoothing the creases. “Your father never thought less of you.”
But Adoni did.
“Have you heard from the Innaki?” I asked.
Her smile faded into a crease of worry before she shook her head. “Not yet. Their ships should be making harbor soon. I’ve advised that we wait—let Galdoni move first. We have enough tasks to occupy us. No use fretting over potential strife before your wedding.”
“The Innaki won’t truly declare war.”
“They might’ve pressed the advantage, but once you’re married to Kallias, they lose leverage. Still, they sailed before the Radaanian vessel made port. They don’t know anything’s changed. Dragons help them—if they posture now, your father won’t tolerate it.”
She patted my shoulder, her fingers curling around the crook of my elbow. “Come, my princess. It’s time to fulfill your destiny.”
The winding route through the Cireendium brimmed with life. Excited voices bounced off the cavern walls, rising into the Spire’s height. Crowds parted with murmured greetings, leaving a clear path to the first level—letting their rulers pass.
We made our way toward the auditorium stage. Normally used for island meetings, today it hosted something far more historic. With Tsunami and her obvious fixation on Kallias, Father had refused to hold the ceremony outside.
Ronan appeared from the crowd, offering me his arm. “Last chance to run, Sister,” he muttered.
I stepped on his toe.
He snorted, shoulders bouncing with silent laughter. Despite his troublemaking, he was still my brother. His judgment with Tallon had faltered, and he’d swung from detesting Kallias to tormenting him. And yet, I smiled—comforted by the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes as we reached the top.
Kallias wore his signature forest-green overcoat, the gilded embroidery curling like vines. Under it, though, a blue vest hugged his chest. The twin gold designs matched those on the outer layer—a visible gesture, a pledge. A piece of Draconia near his heart.
His gaze swept down my dress, a deep emerald to match him. Beneath the folds, dark trousers peeked from slits in the skirt—stormy-blue patterns trailing into my boots. A statement. I belonged to Radaan now, but my roots still wrapped around the cliffs of my homeland.
At the table, Father extended his arm, and I stepped close, letting him guide me between himself and Kallias.
“People of Draconia!” Father’s voice boomed, echoing into the heights above. “Today marks a turning point—etched forever in our memory. A celebration not only of peace, but progress. We have secured a treaty with Radaan.”
Cheers burst through the crowd. Fists punched the air, voices roaring with approval.
“I have negotiated the best for our island,” he continued, “and through King Kallias and Princess Nienna’s union, we gain grain, resources, and an alliance meant to last generations!”
Some faces in the crowd pulled tight with skepticism, and discontent flickered in their narrowed eyes as they glanced toward Kallias. A few shook their heads, but their resistance crumbled beneath the magnitude of the crowd’s celebration.
Father lowered his arm and leaned over the sprawling parchment. The parchment spilled over the sides of the table like a waterfall. He dipped the quill, let the excess drip off, and signed his name with broad, black strokes. No blood this time. Just ink.
He signed again beneath mine, scrawling ‘The Dragon’s Heart’ beside it. Then he handed the quill to Kallias, who accepted it with a slight bow.
His shoulder brushed my side as he leaned into the table, bracing himself as he wrote in the slot once meant for his son. The chains of his mantle swung, catching glints of torchlight above the page. All the struggle, the distance, the fire—it ended in a single name. A simple signature.
He placed the quill aside and straightened. Turning to Father, they saluted—fists to chest—and the room erupted once more.
Kallias turned to me. His smile was rare, unguarded. The corners of his eyes crinkled with quiet joy, though his jaw clenched to cage the emotion.
I dipped low into a curtsy, then slid my hand into the crook of his arm. We descended together, Greaves at our backs.
Sunlight poured through the open doors, striking the stone walls in gold and copper hues. The light caught the rows of faces, their expressions glowing with hope, curiosity, or suspicion.
Before we reached the main floor, the sun vanished behind a sudden shadow. Tsunami trilled, her slit pupils narrowed directly at Kallias.
We didn’t pause. We walked beneath her gaze, past the doors, as some of the crowd bent low in reverence.
The dragon snorted, wings rustling like sails in a gale. Then, with a single beat, she launched into the sky.
“She’s headed for the landing,” I guessed as we climbed the Cireendium’s winding slope.
“Is she part of the celebration?” he asked.
“Not on purpose.” I kept my smile fixed. “You’ve been holed up in the Spire for days. The poor beast has been beside herself, trying to get a glimpse of you. Riders have been grumbling about it nonstop.”
“You’d think the novelty would’ve worn off,” he muttered.
“You’re far too fascinating,” I said with a short laugh, slipping free of the crowd. Once we gained higher ground and left the listening ears behind, I lowered my voice. “What were you planning for the rest of your day, my king?”
“I’m to discuss ship placements with Captain Jenson. Wedding details with Fallione. Or yet another discussion about trade with Nereus. Take your pick.”
“Would you like to see my childhood hideout?”
“A hiding place?” He glanced down the narrow halls branching off the Cireendium. “I can’t imagine there are many.”
“It’s not here.” I slid my hand down to his, fingers threading through his.
His brow furrowed, weighing the cost. “Fallione will be sorely displeased.” But when he looked back at me, a grin broke across his face—bright and boyish.
I tossed a glance behind us. “Think we can lose him?”
His guard scowled, as expected.
“He’s impossible to shake,” Kallias replied.
“If we snuck into my rooms, I bet he’d excuse himself.”
Greaves arched a brow. His scowl flattened into a look of long-suffering boredom. Unimpressed by my teasing.
I pivoted down a side corridor, guiding us through a maze of tight turns and narrow stairs.
Only one could pass at a time. Our steps fell soft on the stone, swallowed by the quiet.
These service passages fed into the Spire from smaller entry points—used by staff to avoid the crowd bottlenecks at the main gates.
At last, sunlight broke through. I led them out to the eastern edge.
Without hesitation, I ducked into a shaded alley. A woman with a basket gasped and dropped into a bow.
“Good day!” I called, not slowing.
The walk through K’bar was brisk. The sun bore down, beading sweat at my temples. My dress clung at the collar, the heat thick against my skin.
By midday, we arrived at the shore. Sand glittered under brutal daylight, white and blinding. A small sailboat floated beside a rocky outcrop. Gulls circled, shrieking above as they scanned the water.
Grinning, I hitched my skirt and climbed into the boat. Kallias eyed the vessel with suspicion, hesitating.
Greaves stopped behind us, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping the horizon. “Who’s the captain?”
“I am.” I dipped into an exaggerated bow. “Captain Nienna, at your service.”