Chapter Thirty
Kallias
Dinner that night tested every shred of my patience.
The formal dining hall shimmered with polished coral and carved driftwood, the walls inlaid with shells that caught the lights.
Our first shared meal as king and queen beneath the scrutiny of the Draconis court.
Nienna kept her hands to herself—but I quickly learned the secret language lovers spoke in silence.
She laughed with the mayor of K’lan, her smile radiant. Deep blue eyes flicked to me, then snapped back to the noble with practiced ease. Fingers drifted along the front of her dress, the smallest one dipping lower. Just enough to catch my attention. A spark of heat flared.
Lust coiled through me like a flame-hungry serpent. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“The tithe has been taken, and we thank you for your grain,” Nyxaria said, her voice slicing through the haze. “Dragons have no need for bread. It eases our people’s burden.”
I gave the faintest nod, letting wine swirl in my glass. “Only a fraction of what’s to come.”
Nereus lifted his goblet toward me. “To years of plenty.”
“To years of peace,” I echoed, tapping my cup to his.
Nienna turned, eyes scanning the room before she sipped her drink. She gave the nobleman a polite pat on the shoulder and returned to my side, settling between me and her mother.
“Jakob sends his best,” she murmured as I stood to nudge in her chair. The servant behind her flushed and stepped back, robbed of the task. “He hopes to show you K’lan someday.”
Her gaze lifted to mine. Light shimmered in her eyes, joy shining raw and honest in her smile. The force of it landed square in my chest.
No performance. No game. Just a shared moment in a room full of people who didn’t want me dead.
At last, her family let me exist without suspicion.
They hadn’t ordered their dragons to eat me, which felt like progress.
The nobles kept their smiles fixed and no one spat in my direction. That counted for something.
But the miracle wasn’t in the tolerance—it was her. She gave me warmth, laughter, fire. Our time in Radaan had been a flicker, a mere taste of what could be. This… this felt real. And it was only the beginning.
She bit her lip, her cheeks blooming pink. Ducking her head, she let her hand fall between our plates.
I sat beside her, brushed her fingers with mine.
“Do you want to visit?”
“I know it well enough,” she said, flashing a smile toward someone across the way. “But I’d like for you to see it. You’ll never get another chance.”
I nodded as a servant placed a bowl of chowder in front of me—steam rising, broth thick with fish and spice. “Then we shall go.”
The evening unfolded easy as breathing. Nienna chatted with her family, her fingers sketching patterns on my hand—the same ones I’d drawn across her skin the night before, once hunger of another kind had been sated.
My mouth curved as she traced an infinity loop on my palm, her focus on her mother’s words. I wondered if she realized she was doing it—or if echoing the motion came naturally.
After the plates cleared and the lights burned low, I stood as Chief Jehoikim approached.
“Congratulations are in order, King Kallias Sunspear,” he bellowed, dragging every pair of eyes at the table toward us. I caught the guarded glances and the polite strain behind tight smiles. No one liked him. But everyone tolerated him.
I squared my shoulders and leaned in, letting my height press into his space. “Thank you, Chieftain.”
He spared Nienna no such courtesy. From the way his gaze skimmed over me, bounced to her—I would wager he thought I got the better end of the bargain.
He wouldn’t be wrong.
“She’s going to be a fiery one,” he said with a low, ugly laugh, patting the sash stretched tight across his bulky chest. “Is your kingdom ready for her?”
“She is exactly what Radaan needs,” I replied, my voice steady and measured. I eased a step forward, cutting him off from Nienna. “A queen with claws and fangs. I would have no other.”
And a passion bright enough to burn away the darkness.
“She could be what your kingdom needs, but I’ve been hunting for the time to discuss what your people might want.”
I nodded through his posturing, grunting at the right moments—appeasing the man’s desire to debate trades. Radaan had no use for pearls or crystal trinkets, but my ports remained open. I watched Nienna finish her bowl as he rambled on.
She placed her spoon down, and her eyes swept my frame, snagging on the apex of my thighs. A blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she looked away, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear.
Pride surged through me. I knew exactly where her thoughts had gone.
“More pearls,” Ronan slid between us, voice cool, gaze colder, “mean more Vessels from Draconia.” He tossed a glance at Nienna, then let his eyes trail down me with open disgust before dragging them back up.
“I grow weary of trade,” I said, slapping a hand on Ronan’s shoulder with a smile.
His expression soured, jaw clenched, fingers whitening around his glass.
“Perhaps the prince would be more helpful. He knows what Draconia can offer, and what the Kulletti might share with Radaan in return.”
I took my leave without waiting for their response, returning to Nienna’s side as she stood. My hand found the curve of her back, and I guided her away from the table, my grip tightening around her waist.
The room. I had to make it to our room. I couldn’t take her against a wall like some feral boy who hadn’t known a woman.
My lungs burned for air. Control frayed with every step. Her head lowered, her knuckles brushing my thigh again and again.
My lips were on hers before I kicked the door shut. Greaves blurred to the edge of my thoughts. I shoved my hunger aside all day, caged it like some wild animal, and now it broke free, savage and immediate.
She moaned when I spun her into the wood, her back arching as she pressed into me, lips parted, neck offered.
“The bed is right there,” she gasped.
I nipped down her throat, trailed soft apologies over each mark I left.
She wasn’t wrong. The plush mattress and blankets waited across the room—but it might as well have been miles.
My body screamed for release now. Was this a side effect from being celibate for so long—or just her?
My body’s reaction to her taste, her passion?
“Do you want the bed?” I asked, bracing a palm against the door. Gods, Greaves still stood outside. I retreated a step for his sake, not mine.
She circled me, fingers curling into my vest, dragging me forward.
Blonde hair flashed to black, and I flinched, grabbing her wrist. She laughed and rushed toward me, but I backed away, mantle slamming against the door.
Her breath hitched, eyes clearing from desire to concern as she searched my face. “What’s wrong?”
I frowned, glaring at her hand. Memories surfaced, a storm gathering at the edge of my consciousness, dark and crashing.
My grip dug into the back of her head in a furious attempt to drive the vision away.
I pulled her to me and kissed her. Harsh.
Rough. Forcing her mouth open, chasing the essence of wine on her tongue.
Her lips moved in time with mine. She stumbled as I surged forward.
I caught her hips, lifted her. Her legs wrapped around me, fingers tangled in my hair, yanking hard.
Pleasure flared. Then it died.
The wine turned to ash.
I tore my mouth away, choking on the ghosts of my past clawing at my throat.
Nienna pulled back, her hold loosening.
“Don’t stop,” I growled, falling onto the bed with her. Our clothes vanished. The buttons on my trousers gave way under her hands.
Her blue eyes darkened, bleeding into dark brown.
A snarl ripped from my chest, and I snatched her hips, jerking her closer.
I buried myself in her. Not for escape—but to stay. Her fire, her brightness anchored me to the present, grounding every nerve screaming with memory.
Those memories were corpses, whispers from the grave. Dust. Eldeiade was dead.
And I would never be treated that way again.
I stifled a gasp as hinges creaked. My eyes snapped wide, mind scrambling to place the figures slipping inside. One edged along the wall; the other eased the door shut behind them
The person moving wore a dress.
I exhaled hard and dropped my head to the pillow with a groan. Sharing a room brought complications I hadn’t prepared for.
Freya crossed to Nienna’s side of the bed, eyes downcast. She tapped her gently, whispering a quiet greeting. Nienna moaned, rolled into me, and buried her face in my chest.
I tugged the sheet over her shoulders and nodded at the maid. “Draw the curtains.”
“You’re worse than they are,” Nienna mumbled into the crook of my arm.
“The sun waits for no one.”
Fabric scraped along the rods, and muted light slipped through.
Greaves stood just inside the door, fatigue etched into every line of his face.
He was likely sleeping with the staff—and getting less sleep than I did.
My rest had been broken by clawing dreams. I placed the blame solely on Nereus and his rifling through my thoughts.
Or Nienna—she stirred things I had buried, dusted off the trauma, bringing it back into the light.
“Will we have another midday meeting?” she mumbled from beneath the covers.
“If my queen requests such, I’m at her disposal.”
I tracked Freya as she moved through the room. She swapped out the water basin, raised her hand, and reignited the mage lights. Quiet and efficient, she finished her tasks and slipped out. Greaves followed.
“Mmm. I think we have topics to discuss.” Nienna surfaced, pushing hair from her face and resting her cheek on my chest.
“Oh?” I asked, in no mood to get off the bed.
Her fingers wandered to my waist. “Very important ones.”
I shifted my hips away, out of reach, and she gave a pitiful whine while I scoffed a quiet laugh.