Chapter 34 #2
“Father would never.” I spat the words, hiding the tremor beneath them. I couldn’t see Argos. No sign of Father. Only dark clouds, broken sky. Doubt he made it home at all, gnawed at me.
“Your mother would.”
As we approached the dock, four guards waited in full silver plate. The sight jarred me. Draconis summoning the guard? At port? Absurd.
The ship docked in silence. No voices. No commands. Even the water felt still.
Greaves stumbled behind us, boots slapping wet boards. He looked ready to vomit. Hopefully, he’d keep his feet for what came next.
A figure sprinted from the shadowed city—black leathers flapping, goggles shoved onto his brow. Ronan’s face was carved from stone.
“The dragons are grounded. The island’s surrounded,” he barked. “Mother’s handling talks. That bastard Galdoni has our people—using them as shields.”
“Innaku doesn’t have enough Vessels for every ship,” I snapped, keeping pace as we hurried through the city. “We never gave them that many.”
“No, but he’s hiding them. We don’t know which ships they’re trapped on. It’s chaos without Father.”
Panic gripped me. Cold. Crushing.
“Where is he?” I asked, voice low but sharp. I wanted to stop, shove him against the wall, shake him until the truth fell out.
“Argos crashed off the eastern shore. We managed to get them to land, but the flight took a toll on them both. Argos can’t move his left wing. He’s landlocked.”
“And Father?”
“He flew through a storm on a dragon that shouldn’t have made the trip,” Ronan bit out. “He’s unconscious. But alive. No injuries.”
Air returned to my lungs. I straightened, spine iron.
He needed me more than ever now.
Kallias placed his hand at the small of my back, anchoring me with that simple touch.
I wasn’t alone. I had my mother’s mind, my brother’s fire, and Kallias’ unshakable presence.
Let the Innaku come.
They’d regret this show of force.
“What does he want?” I burst into the war room, breath catching when I saw my mother at the head of the table. Not Father.
Haldor looked up. Flight leathers hugged his frame, a line of pearl studs marching across his right shoulder to mark his rank. His goggles dangled from one hand, the other braced against the map.
“You,” Mother answered, glare fixed on the red fleet clustered around Draconia. Light skimmed the gems in her crown, but no shadows dimmed her fire.
“Bold choice,” Kallias growled, stepping closer. His gaze swept the map’s coastline, calculating.
“He knew nothing of you, King of Radaan,” she said, repositioning a black dragon on the eastern shore. “Until he saw your ship docked in our harbor.”
“And now his demands have changed?”
Mother met his stare without flinching. “No.”
His jaw flexed. Fingers drifted to the hilt at his hip. His attention shifted to the cluster of ships to the east, pausing on the largest one guarded on all sides.
“The Draconis Vessels will be there. And here.” He traced south, then west. “If he knows I’ve made her queen, they’ll also be stationed to the north. Cut off your reinforcements.”
Mother shook her head, the corners of her mouth tight. “We can’t be certain.”
“Queen Nyxaria.” Kallias’ tone brooked no argument, and she stiffened with a glare that could pierce armor. “I’ve fought wars my entire life. Draconia has never seen a battlefield. Trust my word.”
Her nostrils flared, but no protest escaped her lips. He wasn’t just some farm lord; he was the Golden Warrior. Chosen of the gods. Untested in sea warfare, perhaps—but war was his mother tongue.
“What do you advise?” she asked, brittle but listening.
“Greaves, fetch Fallione,” Kallias said. The guard vanished with purposeful strides.
“Does Galdoni have spies here?” he continued. “Any chance he knows Nienna has been named queen?”
“Every Innaki was sent back the day before your arrival,” Mother replied. “He shouldn’t know.”
“Then we move as though he thinks Kallias is still rotting in the dungeon,” I said, catching onto the rhythm of his plan.
“What’s his leverage? Wheat?” Kallias asked, face sharpening, voice tuned to war. The relaxed man who once smiled in mint fields was gone. What remained was a general, a strategist.
“And our people,” Ronan cut in, posture taut as he stared through the window. Hands folded behind his back, so much like Father.
“He plans to starve you out, then,” Kallias said. “He’s severed your fishing routes, blocked your trade, grounded your dragons. You’re overpopulated and short on food. He’s not pressuring you—he’s letting time work for him. Galdoni believes he has the upper hand.”
“We’d fly before that,” Ronan snapped.
“We meet him before that,” Kallias corrected. “Is he aware of Nereus’ condition? He didn’t know he’d be sailing into that storm. He expected you to come to him. What’s the state of the red?”
“Elmo’s alive. The diversion was successful,” Ronan replied. “Two riders burned out their magic, shielding him from the blast.”
“He’s counting on you to fly. It’s a gamble. If he downs your dragons, what’s left? Where are your forces? Your battleships?” Kallias’ words cut through the room like drawn steel.
Haldor slammed a fist on the table. “We’ve never needed them! Our beasts have never failed us.”
“And now you suffer for that blind trust. If you lose your dragons, you lose your island.”
Cold pooled in my gut as my gaze dropped to the map. Adoni’s death had been an accident, but perhaps it also cracked the door, igniting his father’s fury. The storm aided his cause. He saw his chance—and took it.
This wasn’t the end, either. Once he claimed Draconia, he’d set his sights on Ivetti and Kulletti. Or worse—join forces with the brutes and crush us between them.
“Meet him,” Kallias said, tapping the ship Galdoni had fortified. “If he’s reasonable, draw him to shore. If not, take your strongest Vessels and face him on the sea. Call his bluff.”
“The Innaki no longer feed our people,” I added. “He only holds leverage through the lives on those ships.”
“Can you feel them?” Kallias asked, scanning our faces. “The Vessels? The riders who lent them power—can they sense where they’re being kept?”
Haldor clenched his teeth. “Once the magic’s given, it’s gone. No tether remains.”
Kallias sighed. “Then we don’t know where your people are.”
Mother’s voice broke the silence. “He will not set foot on our shores. We’ll go to him and hope the man has an inkling of sense.”
If he was anything like Adoni, he didn’t.