Chapter Thirty-One
Kallias
After dinner, Nienna led me to the private dining room—the same cramped space where Nereus had invaded my mind, my memories.
A phantom touch tingled across my scalp.
Even with Nienna here, her presence did little to quiet it.
I would never carry magic, never allow another soul into my thoughts again.
He’d unearthed ghosts in mere breaths. A shiver crept through my veins, but I stifled the shudder.
“Great, two old men.” Ronan leaned back in his chair, feet tossed onto the table. He crossed them at the ankles with a dramatic flair.
“Be civil,” Nyxaria warned, eyeing his boots with disdain.
Nienna turned to Greaves. “We’ll be fine.”
He gave her the briefest glance before fixing on me again. His stance held tension—solid, watchful—not out of disrespect, but habit.
I nodded my assurance. “Go. I’ll check in before I turn in.”
He dipped his head without a word and took his leave. Part of me longed for the relaxed version of him I had in Radaan—the friend who laughed with ease and walked at my side, not in my shadow. Here, there were too many ears listening, too many eyes. I missed his company.
“He’s a good man,” Nereus said, swirling amber liquid in his cup, staring after Greaves.
I drew out a chair for Nienna beside her mother. “Saved my life more than once,” I muttered.
That left the spot next to Ronan for me.
“A decent guard is hard to come by. A loyal one? Rarer still.” Nereus reclined in his seat, cup in hand, nodding as if to himself.
As I sat, the prince inched his boots into my space, and I smacked them off the table. They thumped to the floor, and he rolled his eyes, tipping his chair on its back legs.
“How goes the search for Vessels?” Nienna’s father asked, sipping his drink.
“Harder than expected.” She sighed, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. “We need candidates without families or ties to the islands. That list is short. And sifting through the rest? Tedious.”
“Then tighten the net.” He grunted. “Kallias and I will settle which riders will fly to Radaan. Then search for their Vessels.”
Nienna squinted, gazing at the wall. “That would narrow it down significantly.”
“They only work with certain riders?” I asked.
Nereus nodded. “Too much pressure otherwise—lightens the load. And you don’t want just anyone poking inside your brain.”
His eyes cut through me—sharp, deliberate. I’d built walls around my memories. Surely he couldn’t have seen more than I allowed.
“It’s a symbiotic relationship,” Nyxaria added. “The two have to get along to anchor the flow of magic. Both sides have to agree.”
“Some refuse pairings outright,” Ronan said. “Either side reserves the right to decline the connection.”
I deadpanned. “I can’t imagine anyone willingly lets you in their head.”
He scoffed. “I’m royalty. I don’t answer to the common man. Just as no one expects Father to power the mage lights.”
“We are royalty,” I corrected. “And we answer to every man.”
Nereus lifted his brows, chin dipping in agreement as Ronan’s pride took the hit.
A dragon roared outside, and I glanced up at the ceiling.
“You plan for dragons to hold the Craggs?” Nereus pulled my attention back to the table.
“I want them scattered through my watchtowers,” I said, resting a hand against my thigh. “A visible threat to deter the Velli.”
“You think they’ll invade again?” Ronan’s tone held genuine curiosity.
“The Velli are…” I paused, thoughts pacing through old wounds.
“Persistent and restless. It took too long to push them into a treaty. They never made it far into Radaan, but I never crossed the Craggs either. Perhaps I should’ve.
Still, after years of war, I want something that keeps my people safe. A show of force.”
“Then I’ll send five bulls,” Nereus said. “The largest I’ve got. That’ll ease our tithe as well as provide you protection—but are you prepared to feed them? I won’t have complaints about them snatching livestock.”
“There’s plenty of game in the mountains.” Nienna shot me a look, smirking.
I cleared my throat, swallowing a laugh. “They’ll be fed,” I said. “Their protection’s worth the cost.”
“And the riders answer only to my daughter. If there’s fault or crime, she handles it—or they go home.”
“Understood.” The words tasted like iron. I’d need a full list of which dragons returned with us—and everything Nienna knew about their riders. Strangers who believed themselves above the law had no place in my kingdom.
“Speaking of crime,” Nyxaria mused, turning my way. “Have you heard of your man, Ludwig?”
I drew a breath, steadying it, and Nienna perked up, intrigued.
“I have been informed about an incident in K’lan, though I’ve yet to speak with him.”
“An incident!” Ronan laughed. “He tore a tavern apart with his bare hands.”
“I should’ve known you were there,” I groaned.
“He’s a beast of a man.” Nereus shook his head. “Haldor claims he took down five of my men before they knocked him out. All over some married woman.”
“Captain Jensen’s respected,” I said, lips tight. “Fallione picked him for speed, trust, and precision. I wouldn’t have boarded just any ship to cross the sea. The captain earned my confidence—and that extends to his crew. I’ll speak to Ludwig myself before passing judgment.”
“You’ll remain here for a while yet,” Nyxaria said. “Perhaps we can find work for your men. Let them earn something to take back to their families.”
“Send them to the Wild Shores,” Ronan offered with a shrug.
His mother tilted her head in thought.
Nienna’s frown deepened. “To do what?” she asked.
“Log, build, forage. Keep them away from the cities if tensions rise.” Nyxaria lifted a shoulder. “It’s a sound prospect.”
“You’d send my men to the island your dragons refuse to stay on overnight?” I gave her a tight smile. “I won’t ask of them what I’m not willing to do myself.”
An idea spawned in my mind.
“If you insist on sending them, I’ll go as well,” I added. “For a few days.”
Nienna sat upright, eyes narrowed to slits. Her face screamed she was guessing at my plans and I almost chuckled at the way she wore her feelings on her sleeve in private. In the dining hall, she would have remained composed, and no one would have been able to decipher what she was thinking.
“It’ll take time to get there and back,” Nereus murmured, more to himself than to us. “I’d have to leave Argos or use the Dragon Ship.”
“It’s still under maintenance,” Nyxaria reminded him. “Preparing for the voyage to Radaan.”
“I admit, I’m intrigued by these shores,” I said. “Another continent? This chance won’t come again.”
Fallione wouldn’t be pleased—not when alliances and trade deals waited to be forged with the Draconis populace. But he could manage those.
Nyxaria’s gaze slid to her husband. “I’ll stay with Ronan. No one knows the Wild Shores like you, Nereus. You could show Nienna before she returns to Radaan.”
Nienna’s head whipped toward her father, braid swinging. She’d never been there, but judging by how the Awakening and its lights affected her, she wanted to. Her mother must’ve sensed my plan, and supported it.
“Round trip takes a week by ship,” Nereus said, sniffing. “We drop off your men, keep them out of trouble, and send for them when you’re ready to return.”
That would give them close to three weeks of work.
“Make sure they have two days to spend what they earn before we depart,” I added. “And we leave at month’s end. No delays.”
Nereus nodded, and Nienna’s gaze drifted to me—down my chest, then up again. She pressed her lips together.
My body burned with the urge to sling her over my shoulder and carry her to our room.
Instead, I stayed seated.
The meeting—if it could be called that—felt easy. No pretense or forced formality. The family tossed jabs, shared opinions without bracing for impact. It reminded me of dinners with the Sols. Untroubled. Honest. Almost joyful.
Eventually, we retired to our rooms.
“No guard,” Nienna muttered, cutting a glance my way. “We don’t have to be quiet.”
“You never are.” I backed her into the room, kicking the door shut.
The kiss landed messy. Greedy. Two bodies aching after a day spent pretending we weren’t starving. My fingers tangled in the laces of her dress. I tugged once, then gave up. I broke the kiss long enough to shove a hand behind me to bolt the lock.
“No interruptions,” I growled.
Her eyes widened, but her lips curled with a devious grin as she retreated a step.
“You want to be caught?”
“By you.” She bit her lip, voice low and coaxing. This was her hesitant place, unsure how to ask, but knowing exactly what she wanted.
I let her drift back, unhurried, unfastening my vest one button at a time. I didn’t stop watching her as I removed my tunic—the shift of fabric, her every breath. My hand slid to my belt. I loosened it, steps closing the space between us.
She hadn’t removed a single scrap of clothing. Still and composed, she waited for me, wordless. Anticipation clung to her like perfume. She liked when I undressed her, made her feel wanted, piece by piece. A gift meant only for my hands.
Heat surged beneath my skin. That hunger in her eyes, that silent plea—it was for me. Not for a throne. Not for a king. Me. Pride swelled in my chest, pleasure racing behind it, snapping at its heels.
But I was in no mood to take things easy. Slowing down wasn’t an option—not tonight. Not after the endless restraint, the hours spent pretending my hands didn’t ache to be on her since dawn.
The buckle slipped free, and I crossed the room in a breath, wrapped my arm around her waist, and tossed her onto the bed. Her gasp cracked through the air, chest slamming into the mattress. Her cry was soft—surprised, not afraid.
I didn’t give myself time to think.
Her skirts bunched in my fist. I yanked her trousers down her thighs—then stopped cold.
Dark bruises stained her legs.
My breath vanished. Veins iced. I stared at the four brown ovals on her thigh, one more across from them.
A handprint.
“Kallias?”