Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nienna
We spent the night on the beach, the celebration mirroring the Awakening. Dancers spun through firelight, while music leapt from the waves and scattered into the stars. The scent of warm bread, grilled fish, and brine clung to the breeze. Draconia rejoiced. My people cheered my union.
I was happy.
Kallias looked more at ease than I’d ever seen him among my citizens. His back still held that rigid pride, his mantle draped with care—but the furrow between his brows had softened. His posture flowed, no longer carved in stone.
Bonfires dotted the shoreline, and drums thundered. The crowd swelled, unraveled, swayed, while formality burned away with the sun. We mingled freely. My parents had vanished hours before, leaving us for the night.
Curled beneath Kallias’ arm, I sank into the curve of his side. His laughter rumbled low when a child stomped through the sand, mimicking a dancer’s pounding steps. Firelight sparked across their faces, casting wide smiles in gold.
“They’re happy,” he murmured.
Pride bloomed in my chest. Not the loud, showy kind—but the quiet sort, rooted deep in my soul. Our people felt peace. Hope. And we had given that to them. This joy, this safety, was earned.
“Are you?” I brushed my palm over his thigh, tilting my face to meet his eyes through my lashes.
He grunted. A slow smirk tugged at his mouth. “I could be happier.”
“Oh?” I shifted. My hand slid inward, settling on the inside of his leg. His muscle jumped beneath my fingers.
“I’m sitting next to a woman who has been nothing but temptation.” He twisted, lips brushing my ear. “And I still haven’t kissed her.”
My nails grazed along the tender space of his inner thigh. A sound escaped him—half growl, half groan.
“Perhaps if you took her somewhere private, you could correct that.”
“I’m a king. I leave when it’s considered acceptable.”
“And if his queen decides it is?”
His teeth skimmed my ear. “Then I suppose I could be persuaded.”
I dragged my palm down his leg to his knee, then rose. His jaw flexed, and he stood, legs stiff from sitting too long. Behind us, Greaves straightened. When Kallias turned, I took his arm.
“We’re retiring for the night.”
His friend inhaled, chasing it with a sigh. He gave a nod, quiet approval shining within the shadows of his small smile. Though wrapped in black, nearly swallowed by the dark, that flicker of joy warmed something in me.
“He’s happy for you?” I asked as we slipped away beneath the stars, moving through alleys and broken moonlight.
“He is,” Kallias said, his hand folding over mine. “He’s always been at my side. This… is new.”
“How is it different from when you were with–”
His finger touched my lips. Gently. “Not tonight. Don’t sully what we have with her name.”
My throat dried, and I kissed his fingertip as he withdrew. It was careless of me. That marriage left wreckage in its wake. He’d been hurt. Betrayed. I shouldn’t have brought it up.
“You’re the only one I’ve ever pushed him away for,” he said, the words a low rumble. “I have no intention of sharing.”
The city was quiet, but my pulse made up for the silence with a frantic beat, pounding louder with every step toward the Spire.
Stillness wrapped around us and I embraced the hush.
My skin buzzed. Something sacred hung in the air.
Our passion had always lived in the cracks—hidden glances, stolen kisses, moments we couldn’t stretch long enough.
But now? Now the world knew. My parents had blessed this union. Our people had sung for it.
Tonight, there would be no shame in our consummation. No guilt anchored to our shared love and desires.
We climbed the Cireendium in silence. Kallias stayed close, though he said nothing. Tension settled along my nerves like mist—thick, heavy, impossible to ignore. My mouth was parched from nerves.
The staff had moved our belongings to a new room. A fresh start. A shedding of past lives.
At the door, I paused, and Kallias stepped forward to push it open.
The space felt different from either of ours, expansive, centered by a massive canopy bed—easily large enough for three dragonlings.
“Subtle.” He chuckled, walking ahead.
A bath chamber flanked one side, a dressing room on the other. Rich rugs cushioned the stone floor. Velvet chairs and curved sofas stood as sentinels along the walls.
My lips curled as I watched him pace through each space, checking corners. His instincts never rested. So much like his friend—yet where one moved in shadow, Kallias walked like a blazing sun. Power threaded through every step.
His shoulders eased as he returned, nodding at last.
“I wasn’t aware there were rooms this large,” he muttered, his gaze snagging on the bed.
“You’d be surprised what secrets the Spire holds.”
A quiet hum of amusement left him as I guided him toward the stand meant for his mantle. Two wooden mannequins stood side by side—one broader, one shaped for me.
My fingers drifted to the thick chains across his chest, and I watched his face, waiting for permission. His shoulders paused on a breath, while a muscle ticked along his jaw. His chin dipped ever so slightly, cornflower eyes locked on mine.
The first chain slid loose.
With every length that fell, my heart thudded harder. I bore this burden with him now. As his queen, we would rule Radaan together—equal partners, joined in purpose. He no longer had to stand alone.
One clasp remained, the final golden link drawn taut. Butterflies swarmed low in my belly. He hadn’t moved, allowing me to undo the weight on my own.
The clasp gave with a soft click. His yoke hung heavy, and I braced as he rolled his shoulders, letting it slide free. His hands closed over mine, helping to lift and place it on the stand.
Then his touch found me—warm and captivating along my chest.
My heart kicked against his palms. My skin lit beneath his fingers, hypersensitive and expectant. I studied his face, and his brow tightened into deep concentration. When his hand brushed my breast, my breath hitched.
The contact sparked through every nerve, and my body screamed for more—to move, tackle him—but I held back. This was an exercise of patience. This wouldn’t be frantic. Not stolen. Not rushed.
He closed the space between us, his hips brushing mine. Then—slowly—he began to undo my chains. Each metal link skimmed my bodice with a whisper, a tease, a hint of promise.
My breath came shallow, fast. Every brush of his knuckles tantalized. By the time the final chain dropped, I trembled.
Calloused hands slid along my shoulders as he lifted the mantle away, setting it aside. My fingers found his coat buttons, and one by one, I worked them free. He let the overcoat fall, broad chest rising with a deep breath.
Next came the vest. Then the tunic. I tugged it loose, and he peeled it over his head.
My body purred in approval, knowing he was mine. His strong frame would press against me, moving with hunger and frantic need as–
A gasp shattered the moment.
I spun.
Kallias shoved me behind him, instinctively protective.
Freya stood frozen in the doorway, a steaming bucket in her hands. “Your Majesty—I didn’t expect—I brought the bath.”
Kallias turned toward me, a look of pure desperation twisting his features. His eyes screamed of betrayal by the fates. “I can bathe you,” he muttered, low, husky, on the brink of snapping.
Freya muffled her squeak while I smoothed my palms down his chest. “Patience, good king.”
“I’ve been patient enough,” he growled, letting me step around him.
Smirking, I beckoned my maid toward the bath chamber.
She followed, cheeks flushed, shutting us inside. “Sea beneath,” she hissed. “I didn’t think it would happen that fast! I came as soon as I heard the door!”
“He won’t wait long,” I warned, fingers plucking the tiara off my head. She snorted and helped me slip out of my dress.
The bath water steamed, infused with fragrant oils. She worked quick, efficient. This wasn’t a ceremonial cleansing—it was preparation. Quick and purposeful.
Last night, I had been scrubbed raw. Tonight, only one layer was needed—scented, silken, ready.
After braiding my hair, she draped a silver lace gown over me, sheer and suggestive. The fabric clung to curves, delicate ridges scraping softly across my too-sensitive skin.
“Wait,” she murmured, then pulled a single strand of hair loose, letting it curl against my collarbone. “There.” She stepped back to admire her work, then gave a low whistle. “He won’t be able to resist.”
If only she knew how good he was at resisting.
“Thank you. Now shoo.” I laughed, nudging her toward the door.
She flung it open.
Kallias sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in a picture of patience. His tunic hung loose again. He stared at the floor.
Then he saw me.
Freya vanished in a blink.
He straightened when I moved to stand in front of him, his gaze trailing down my body, throat bobbing, fingers tightening over his knees. “Any more interruptions?”
“Would you like a bath?” I teased, grinning at his glare. “No? Then the night is ours, my king.”
“Thank Elohios.” His tunic hit the bed and his hands found my waist. Thumbs pressed into my belly, grounding me.
His gaze roamed—intense, deliberate. My shoulders, my breasts, the lines of my hips beneath lace. He drank me in.
“You’ve robbed me,” he said, voice graveled with restraint and desire. “I should have undressed you.”
I cupped the nape of his neck. “Maybe I can make it up to you.”
He stood, hands sliding higher until they tangled in my hair. He tugged, gently tilting my head back. A gasp slipped free.
He flinched.
“Is this good?” he whispered.
That soft tremor, the fear buried in his question broke me. I answered without words, pressing closer. My fingers worked at his belt.
“Nienna,” he breathed, loosening his grip. “Tell me if I go too far.”
His jaw clenched. Something flickered behind his eyes. A shadow. A memory. His breath hitched as he hesitated.
“You can’t hurt me.”