Chapter Thirty #2
An invisible weight pressed across my shoulders as I dressed, but I masked the worry chewing at me. Doubt and concern loomed like a stormcloud, but her humming drifted through the room as she combed her hair, a soft and grounding sound—reminding me I wasn’t alone.
Not that I would share this burden with her.
A gentle knock was the only warning before the maid returned, tray in hand. Greaves resumed his post inside the door, ever alert—as if the short redhead might maim us with breakfast.
“Thank you, Freya,” Nienna said, lifting a steaming cup of tea. A matching one sat beside two slices of bread topped with minced fish.
“There’s some for you as well, Your Majesty.” Freya dipped her head, then reached for the comb and took over working through Nienna’s tangled hair.
I accepted the drink, though the lack of privacy grated. Nienna closed her eyes after a sip, relishing the warmth. A quick sniff told me it was mint—enough to rouse my groggy mind.
The flavor, however, was not.
Hot. Minted. And briny. As if steeped in seawater. I smothered a grimace and lowered the cup, my tongue recoiling.
Freya attempted to busy herself in her task, though her stifled giggle betrayed her.
“Thoughts?” Nienna asked, her smile far too bright and eager.
“It is… salty,” I said, clearing my throat. “Unexpected.”
“Traveler’s Tea. Riders drink it after long flights.” She dabbed oil on her wrists, rubbing it along her skin. “It’s my favorite—though most don’t care for it.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief, nose crinkling as if she’d won some secret wager.
“I’ll leave it to you and the riders,” I muttered, giving the cup a sideways glance.
Once we were dressed and presentable, we parted ways.
She left to find her mother; I returned to my desk to sort through requests from city mayors.
K’bar offered a tour of their crafting district—likely an attempt to parade wares and pitch engineering collaborations.
Fallione could go in my stead, but with weeks until our departure, a visit might be worth it.
“Kal?” Greaves’ voice cut through the rustle of papers.
I hummed in acknowledgment, setting aside the dwindling ship inventory and focusing on the list of island dignitaries. Who else could Radaan lean on while we were here?
When he didn’t respond, I glanced up.
His expression said too much.
I schooled my face into the careful mask I wore at court. Blank. Impenetrable. A wall between me and his unwanted concern.
His brows pinched with disapproval, lips drawn in a deep frown. Worry—and something sharper—shadowed his gaze. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword, fingers curled tight.
“Yes?” I prompted, my voice even. I wouldn’t volunteer anything. He was my friend, but I had no intention of adding another witness to my nightmares.
He clenched his jaw, frustration cracking through his worry. When he finally spoke, there was steel in the words. “Don’t push her out.”
“And here I thought you were worried I’d push you out.” I let out a slow breath, shrugging it off. “Also—next time? Knock before letting the maid in.”
He gave a short nod, eyes still locked on mine, but I returned my attention to the stack of documents that promised to keep my mind occupied for a few hours more.
Nienna arrived for the midday meal, carrying a tray stacked with food and a steaming cup of plain, unadorned kahve.
I bit back a grin when she set a small plate aside for Greaves, pretending not to see him.
The kahve was stale—but still preferable to the fish-flavored bathwater she’d offered earlier.
She perched on my lap while we ate, rambling through topics like ship logistics. She wanted to leave for Radaan just as much as I did. Whether out of concern for what Tallon might wreck in my absence, or because she sensed the importance it carried for me, she wouldn’t delay our return.
Something inside me whispered to hurry, that my kingdom was vulnerable without me. But I’d signed the treaty, agreed to remain in Draconia for a month.
And it wasn’t as if I could hold the Craggs against Vellos any better than Darius and his Threshers.
Nienna teased me with her scent—that scorching oil she used drove me mad. I responded instinctively, as if her perfume now belonged to me. The blend of waterlilies and sea air embraced my senses, and my body reacted, as if anticipating what came next.
But then she left, claiming the Nest required her.
I let her go, knowing I’d be of no help there. The dragons tolerated me for her sake, and while I trusted they wouldn’t scorch me alive, there was still an inkling of doubt.
A knock, followed by “My king,” marked Fallione’s arrival.
I really needed to ask Nereus for my own study—too many people in my sleeping chambers made my skin crawl.
“News?” I asked, pivoting in my chair.
“The messenger ships are resettling into their posts,” he said, flipping through fresh documents. “A few more days and they’ll be ready to handle the doves. Also, a sailor caused a scene in K’lan and authorities are demanding gold for compensation.”
“What kind of scene?” I frowned. I trusted Captain Jensen’s crew, but I should’ve given them something to do while we lingered. Men grew feral when idle.
“It appears he’s destroyed the interior of a tavern during a brawl.”
“Destroyed?” I scoffed. “The goods or the structure itself?”
“Both—You remember Ludwig, Your Majesty?” Fallione raised his brows as if the sailor should’ve made a lasting impression.
“I was barely functioning on the voyage here,” I muttered. Locked in the captain’s quarters, trapped with a seasick Greaves and my spiraling thoughts.
“Ah, well… K’lan claims damages exceed three hundred twenty gold.”
I stilled. That was more than some ships. “Was he possessed? A dragon in human form? Or just feeling ambitious?”
“It took five Draconis to remove him from the building. A rider had to restrain him. He’s confined to a cell.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. The struggles of a king bringing his men to a foreign nation without proper preparation or jurisdiction was a discussion needed to be handled with Nereus.
No sailor could pay that kind of restitution, but I wasn’t about to let him off either.
If he destroyed something, he would have to rebuild it.
“Where is he being held?”
“Second prison of K’lan. He’s stable and awaiting your command.”
Of course he was. The island teemed with dragons. No matter how brawny, if he crossed a rider again, he’d be bones in the sand.
“What started the fight?”
“A woman. What else?”
The fresh reports listed the charges. Apparently Ludwig had assaulted a man over the affections of his wife. Quite a damning accusation. I’d need to speak with him to address it.
Fallione left, but a king’s work never ended. Words bled across the page as my skull throbbed. Just as the headache bloomed, Nienna returned.
I glanced at the window, frowning at the faded daylight. Had I really wasted an entire day at this desk? That never happened in Radaan.
“You’re right where I left you,” she said with a laugh, vanishing into the dressing room, Freya close on her heels.
“I fear kingship isn’t all dragonfire and wedding fair queens,” I groaned, rising to stretch and follow. My spine cracked with the movement.
“If only,” she called. “I’ve been swimming through lists of Vessels.”
I caught my reflection in the dressing room mirror—wrinkled tunic, loose collar, dull eyes. “You’ll be choosing who comes to Radaan?”
“Mother has final say,” she said, while Freya worked a deep blue gown around her frame.
I wanted to send the maid out. Her presence stole a moment that should’ve been mine—skin, dress, hands.
“But she’s allowing me to take the reins,” Nienna continued. “She’s managed the trade for years. I’ve never been involved. But with Radaan now on the table, she’s letting me handle it.”
“It’ll benefit Radaan. I’ll put Claydon in charge of assigning tasks. He’ll find use for them.”
She snorted a laugh. “Like feeding the goats?”
“That or building them new stables in the Andeluith,” I added, unfastening my vest.
“The hardest part is choosing.” She sighed. “They have the right to refuse, but if I do this well, there won’t be any delays.”
“They don’t have to leave with us,” I said, catching Freya’s figure from the corner of my eye. “The Radaanian ship can follow.”
“Yes, but the more Vessels I arrive with, the sooner Radaan will see my value.”
I folded my arms. The worry in her voice struck a chord.
She feared they wouldn’t accept her. A valid concern, considering our circumstances.
But Radaan was mine—I knew its gods, its court, its people.
Their faith in me might have been shaken, but I had to believe I’ve proved myself worthy of their trust.
Fallione had questioned this path—my coming here—not that I was willing to be swayed. We relied on Elohios’ favor of honesty. What happened in the Golden Palace was a mistake. But I was being honest with myself and my people by going after Nienna.
And she worried how they would view her.
“You’re dismissed, Freya,” I said.
She startled, bowed, and slipped out. Greaves followed without being asked, sensing he’d outstayed his welcome.
“Kallias.” Nienna looked over her shoulder. “Now who’s going to help me with my boots?”
I prowled across the room, snatching both boots in one hand. She turned, fists propped on her hips as I closed the space between us. My body herded her backward until her knees knocked against a plush chair, and she fell into it, laughing.
“I think I can manage,” I said, sinking to my knees.
Her dainty feet were soft, wrapped in sheer stockings. I curled a hand around her calf, smoothing the fabric of her trousers as I drew it down. “Do you doubt your value to my people?”
She scowled and let her head fall back, eyes to the ceiling. “Not my value—I fear they’ll see me as…” she wiggled her toes as she struggled to find the right word, “tainted.”
I hummed and slid the boot up her foot, tugging the laces tight. “Tainted by whom?”
“Myself,” she laughed. “I seduced you, remember?”
“And yet, in Radaan—and Draconia, from what I’ve seen—people tend to lay the blame on me.” I tied the lace, tucking it clean. “Which is where it belongs. They’ll be slow to accept you, yes. But my reputation took the hit.”
She leaned forward, placed her bare foot in my lap.
In my mind’s eye, a different boot—high-heeled, sharp—slammed into my chest.
I blinked the vision away, gripping her ankle harder than necessary to steady myself.
“You think they’ll forgive me for trading my betrothed for his father? That they will accept a queen who was found splayed on their king’s desk?”
I hooked a hand behind her knee, dragging her closer. “It’s bound to happen again,” I said, the words a promise.
She laughed and surrendered to my pull, letting herself fall into me. I kissed her with care, corralling the hungry beast inside me. She needed reassurance, not to be devoured.
That would come later.