Chapter 33 #3
“One night he—he followed us to the balcony. I didn’t see him.” Regret strained her tone. “It was when we knew—when we realized it couldn’t ever work. After I left you, he confronted me. Accused me of sleeping with you.”
She was here. Safe. An ocean away from him. I brushed hair from her cheek, letting the moonlight spill across her skin. Rage smoldered in my chest, but she was unhurt. Whole.
“He always suspected it,” I said. “He thought you were trying to replace him. That wasn’t my plan. I was prepared to give Radaan to him. Every decision I made pointed toward shaping her for his rule. Until you.”
“And now I’ve changed everything.” Her smile softened as she leaned into my palm.
“I won’t pretend to know what’s ahead. The future’s uncertain. But I’m her king—Radaan will follow me.” I ran my thumb across her lips.
She caught it between her teeth, then drew it into her mouth. Her tongue traced the pad, teasing, warm. Heat surged through me like a lit fuse. My pulse drummed in my throat.
“And as her king,” I said, “I have a duty to produce another heir.”
I shifted, rolling her beneath me in one smooth motion. Laughter burst from her lips as strands of hair fell across her face. I brushed them aside, pressing my weight into the cradle of her hips.
Exactly where I belonged.
“Do your best, my king.”
Greaves found us knotted together, limbs entwined, calling out that Nereus demanded we return to the ship. Sand clung to our damp skin, buried in every crease, and we made our way back like two young lovers caught in the throes of passion.
Nienna lent me youth. I wasn’t blind to my years—my joints refused to let me forget—but her presence woke a piece of me long buried. She moved with radiance, and her brightness inspired me. It hinted the world didn’t have to be so bitter, so bleak.
The moment our boots hit the dock, a sound cut through the night.
A scream. High, shrill, strangled. It split the air with jagged force and ended in a sharp snap.
We both turned to the sky. I’d heard dragons before—but this call didn’t match any creature from Draconia.
“In the ship, Nienna.” Nereus stood at the rail, arms folded behind him, eyes locked on the stars. “You too, King of Radaan. These shores do not welcome wanderers after sundown.”
No protest rose. Exhaustion pulled at me, and I followed it to our cramped berth.
Sand gritted in the sheets, clinging to sweat-damp limbs, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I lay on my side, and Nienna pressed in close, tucking herself against me, guiding my arm around her waist. I nestled my chin into her hair, breathing in her scent, her warmth.
She endured more talk the next morning, sat through another round of tree assessments without protest. Ludwig, once a logger, made himself useful among the Draconis—but Nienna’s eyes wandered toward the forest. When her gaze turned pleading, I claimed fatigue and excused us from the talks.
Someone passed around Traveler’s Tea, something about salt and sweat, but I politely refused the cup of minty fish water and followed Nienna, who offered to pick more herbs for the tea.
Basket in one hand, my arm in the other, she tugged me toward an overgrown stretch of beach.
Greaves stayed behind. His slow blink and reluctant step back said it all—he knew why I dismissed him and wasn’t happy about it.
Thick foliage spilled across pale shore, wild and tangled. My chest ached, longing for Radaan. The sun’s quiet warmth on my face. The soft roll of hills draped in forest. A hollow ache stretched inside my soul—one only my kingdom could fill.
Our boots struck dark soil where grit gave way beneath a canopy of palms, shifting into thicker trunks. Shade pressed down, and my mantle cooled against my shoulders.
Nienna stared up at the treetops, her eyes wide.
I smirked. “Mint grows on the ground.”
She laughed and bent to cup a red bloom, fingers careful around the thorns lining its stem. Her cheeks flushed with heat and the trek’s exertion.
Sweat trickled down my spine; the forest air pressed against my skin—humid, heavy. The scent of crushed blossoms, rich soil, and the faint sweetness of waterlilies clung to her clothes.
“If you weren’t a king, what would you be?” she asked.
“Dead,” I snorted. I’d never had another option. The throne had always been my destiny.
She rolled her eyes and wandered deeper, one hand gliding along the bark of a gnarled tree. “I think I would’ve liked to explore. There’s so much no one’s ever seen.”
Sunlight broke through the canopy, striking her scaled mantle and scattering it in prisms. She knelt by a patch of mint, brushing the leaves with a delicate touch. When she looked back, her eyes stole my breath. She belonged in wide-open spaces. Draconia would never be enough.
“Someone might’ve seen it,” I said, resting a shoulder against the tree. The gold chain of my mantle dug into my joint. “Whatever made that noise last night might have eaten them.”
She pointed at me. “You’re not wrong.”
“As thrilling as it is, most explorers die before they return. And those that do come back bring more scars than stories.”
With a sigh, she plucked a sprig of mint, twirling it between her fingers. The gray sleeve of her dress slipped off one shoulder, skin gleaming like marble in the shade. A beautiful temptation.
“But still—imagine the adventure.”
I cocked my head. “Is your life not thrilling enough, my queen?”
She purred, letting her gaze trail over my body. “Oh, things have been plenty exciting lately.”
Heat flared beneath my skin. I squatted beside her, plucking the sprig from her hand. “That’s not spearmint.”
She blinked. “Looks like it.”
“A hazard of marrying into an agricultural kingdom.” I shook my head. “You’ll need to learn the difference. Spearmint’s sweeter. Smoother. Lighter on the tongue. Leaves a man wanting more.” My gaze slid down her frame, settling on her mouth.
“This,” I said, lifting a darker leaf, “is peppermint. Stronger. Sharper. Bolder.” I held it up between us. “See the veins? Deeper. The taste stays—but it cuts first.”
“They grow so close,” she breathed, her tongue skimming her lower lip. Eyes locked on mine. “How can you tell them apart?”
“Practice, my queen.” I leaned in, advancing on her.
She lost her balance and tumbled back with a startled laugh. I smiled, crushing the leaf between my fingers, hovering above her. My mantle spilled down her chest in a soft, gilded cascade.
“We’re supposed to be gathering mint.” Her breath hitched, body already strung tight with expectation.
“I never agreed to those terms.” I settled between her thighs, and her gaze followed my hands as I undid the fastenings at my collar. Lips parted. Knees pulled in beside me. “I came to watch.”
“Me pick herbs?” she asked, laughing under her breath.
The last link slipped free, and I shrugged off the mantle. It landed in a gleam of sunlight. “To watch you come undone.”
The sun poured over bare limbs. I folded my clothes with care; hers landed wherever they fell. A picture of my life. My calm and her chaos. I’d never sought to anchor her—only to move with her whirlstorm.
Later, green smears streaked across us. The scent of mint clung to sweat and warmth. Sunlight traced the lines of our bodies, and the world faded to birdsong and distant waves.
“Kallias?” Her breath brushed my cheek. Eyes shut. Voice soft with exhausted satisfaction.
“Hmm?” I kissed her forehead, tucking my arm beneath her head. Numbness crept down my fingers, but she was so perfect. I refused to move.
“I love you.”
My chest ached with those words. I still wasn’t used to them. They came after mad desire, after heated pleasure. Simple, unadorned—but I devoured them like a starving man.
“You’ll grow tired of me.” My hand tightened on her hip, as if my body rejected the idea.
She giggled, fingers stroking the stubble creeping back across my chest. The gray mocked me. A reminder of years between us.
A booming roar exploded in the distance.
I flinched, and Nienna bolted upright, every muscle wound tight. Leaves and twigs tangled in her hair, and she stilled, breath caught in her throat, eyes trained north.
When she spoke, horror filled her words.
“A dragon is coming.”