Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kallias
It didn’t take long to ready a small ship. The day was spent coordinating between Captain Jensen and the Draconis captain, Wylyn. Nienna was kept occupied preparing for departure, and by the time evening approached, I managed to slip away to K’lan and seek out Ludwig.
The jail was cramped, humid with the stench of sweat and old iron. A single glance at the sailor explained how he’d held his own against a gang of men. He stood taller than me and broader by half. The cell barely allowed him to sit, let alone pace.
He rose when I entered, bowing low. His head nearly scraped the bars—though I doubted they’d contain him if he chose otherwise.
“Your Majesty!” A worried frown cut across his weathered face, fingers twitching at his sides. His beard, thick and tangled, barely veiled the grimace underneath.
“Sailor,” I said, sweeping my gaze over his stained tunic and threadbare trousers. This man, a Radaanian in Draconis chains, represented more than himself. He reflected on all of us.
“I beg your pardon, my king. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”
“Trouble?” I arched a brow and took the nearby chair, the chain of my mantle clinking with the motion.
“You must be a busy man,” he said, fumbling. “Many things need your attention—more important than me, I’m sure.”
He apologized for the inconvenience, not his actions. Interesting.
Greaves blocked the door behind me, keeping the Draconis guards at bay. This was a Radaanian matter. I’d deal with the fallout and payment with Nereus later.
“My people deserve my complete focus,” I said, motioning for him to sit. “Start talking. Why dismantle a tavern?”
He dropped his gaze and sank to the cot, the wood groaning under his weight. “I didn’t want the woman—they be sayin’ that.”
“I’m not here for Draconis accusations, sailor. Tell me the truth.”
His fingers scratched the back of his neck as he sighed.
“Well, we were just drinkin’, tryin’ to pass the time.
Petty little to do ‘round here. And we best not linger out in the open or them beasts might think we’re a snack.
You know how it is. And a man was—he was mistreating his missus, you see.
Wouldn’t sit right if I didn’t say somethin’. ”
I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose, knowing where this headed. “Tearing apart a place of business is hardly saying something.”
“Told him he ought to rethink his behavior,” Ludwig continued. “Then she smiled at me, and he done struck her.” He shook his head, breath catching. “Couldn’t stand for it.”
“So you retaliated.”
“With a might bit more fervor, Your Majesty.”
“And the others? I can assume the men you fought were just innocent bystanders?”
“Little lady was hidin’ behind me, my king.” He looked up, earnest. “What’s a man to do when a woman wants his protection?”
Now I saw it. In his mind, he hadn’t started a fight.
He’d answered a call. I couldn’t fault him for his actions.
But this wasn’t about morality—it was about diplomacy.
This strained relations between Draconia and Radaan.
We needed our people to get along, and tavern brawls were hardly the solution.
I exhaled, pressing my hands to my thighs. “May Elohios bless your honesty, but you’re indebted. You may have acted with honor, but your timing was poor. We’re guests here. You can’t strike a Draconis again. Not for any reason. Understand?”
His chest deflated, gaze dropping like a scolded child’s. “Aye, Your Majesty.”
“You’ll be released,” I said, “and escorted to a Draconis vessel. We sail for the Wild Shores at first light.”
His face drained of color.
“You are to work the island with Jensen’s crew—earn your keep. And your pay will be docked to compensate for the damages.”
“I’ve heard stories ‘bout them shores… You’re leavin’ us there?” he whispered.
“After I walk it with you.” I met his stare without flinching. “If islanders can swing an ax, so can a plainsman.”
“They say dragons won’t even land there…” His words trailed off, the tremble of fear unmistakable.
Sailors were notoriously superstitious—rumors clung to them like barnacles to a hull. But I expected better from my men.
“Where I go, you go,” I said, the weight in my voice leaving no space for dissent.
My bond with Elohios might feel frayed this far from Radaan, strained as though stretched too tight across the sea, but faith wasn’t rooted in proximity.
He would protect us. The Draconis had worked those shores for years.
If they managed to survive, I had no doubt my men would walk away unscathed.
I rose, turned, and left the room without a backward glance.
At the desk sat an older rider—Haldor, the same one who’d restrained Ludwig. Thick arms crossed over his chest. Behind him, another Draconis lingered, posture stiff with quiet disdain.
“Release him to Captain Jensen. Escort him to Wylyn’s ship,” I ordered. “He’s confined to the deck until the vessel departs.”
Haldor’s eyes narrowed, slow and deliberate, as if weighing whether he needed to obey a foreign king. I didn’t wait to see his choice. With his silence in my wake, I moved through the tight, sunless corridor, then out into the open air.
I’d never get used to how narrow these streets were, or how tightly the buildings hugged one another like huddled sheep before a storm. The island felt overcrowded, breathless—a place wrapped in endless ocean, yet starved for space. A single outbreak away from being wiped out by a plague.
Greaves followed without a word as we wove through the stone alleys, unhindered by guards.
The lack of their presence felt oddly freeing, like walking Reem’s streets in childhood—before the mantle, before its weight.
Here, the threat of blades in the dark didn’t linger.
The greatest predators flew above, scaled and clawed, and yet they doubled as protectors.
Tsunami soared overhead with a curious chirp. Her tail undulated behind her like a streamer caught in wind. I watched her vanish between rooftops, unsettled by her capricious nature. She lacked the discipline of a trained mount. She needed a rider.
Then again, who was I to guess at Draconis’ affairs?
At the Spire, the evening passed in ease.
At dinner, I found myself watching Nienna more than I listened to the chatter.
She moved with fluid grace between nobles, her voice a steady current in ever-changing waters.
One moment she spoke of pearls with the Kulletti; the next, she detailed a coconut blight with the Ivetti.
She smiled through a striped bass debate with a local mayor as if it were nothing more than idle sport.
At her age, I had fumbled through court like a colt on ice. It had taken me years to command a room the way she did now, with softness instead of sharpness. Where I once barked to be heard, she whispered—and the whole table leaned in to listen.
Perhaps it was the dragons. To be raised in the Nest would forge anyone in fire.
Later, we joined her parents in their private dining chamber. Nereus passed me a goblet of spiced mead, the closest Draconia came to cider. I took a long sip. It filled my chest with warmth, the heat spreading to my skin in a slow, pleasant hum.
Talk of the upcoming journey continued. Nienna chattered about the ocean lights, her voice full of breathless wonder. Nereus looked on with that peculiar mix of pride and longing only fathers carried.
Guilt nipped at my resolve. These were her final weeks here. Final nights in the only home she’d ever known. I was stealing her from them—taking her away from everything familiar.
And yet, I would give her more.
A kingdom. A legacy of her own. Nienna had dragons, but she deserved more than sea air and tides. She needed land beneath her feet that stretched to the horizon—a sky unbroken by cliffs and towers. Here she would be stifled, smothered like a vine trying to take root between cracks of a building.
She would either wither, or her roots would shatter the foundation.
When we returned to our chambers, she was careful with me, her movements gentle, her gaze unwavering. Her kisses held no ghosts. Her hands carved away every memory until only Nienna remained.
She wasn’t a shadow tainted by my past. She was light. Real. Present. Mine.
The ocean wind flung Nienna’s hair behind her shoulders, exposing pale skin to the sunlight. She tipped her head back, face tilted to the sky, a wide smile lifting her lips. Her deep green dress snapped and twisted around her legs, the fabric caught in the tug of salt-laced gusts.
I leaned against the ship’s railing, feigning admiration for the endless blue. My chest clenched against the emptiness stretching in every direction. No trees. No cover. Just open sky and the gnawing thought that some great-winged monster might pluck me up and carry me away.
Argos’ shadow rolled across us, and the massive black beast emitted a low, mournful groan. His golden eye fixed on Nereus, who stood with his captain, bent over a map.
I counted myself fortunate to remain above deck—far from Greaves, who battled for his life. He’d fared poorly from the first swell, unable to keep down so much as water. The man could stand against Velli spears, but a ship’s gentle sway undid him—a blow to the poor man’s confidence.
“Look!”
Nienna pointed toward a fin slicing through the water. A whale surfaced, exhaling a misty plume. Its dark bulk carved through the surf, magnificent in its grace.
Then Argos dropped from the sky.
The whale’s tail arced above the waves just as the dragon’s claws struck.
Blood sprayed into the air. Water churned beneath them, a whirlpool of violence as Argos wrestled to lift the creature.
It thrashed free with a heave, slipping from his grasp.
With a grumbled growl, the dragon wheeled and soared back toward Draconia.