Page 10 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Nine

Kallias

S he shot from the balcony door to the wall with a level of speed that caught me off guard. I twisted, settling one elbow against the sandstone, just as she spread her hands and pitched forward, braced as if to fall.

Beside me, Greaves flinched, a small movement betraying his impulse to reach out, as if he might somehow hold her back. My pulse thundered, a rush of adrenaline as I realized how far she was from my reach—I wouldn’t catch her.

Thank Elohios—she drew in a breath, her eyes closing as the breeze washed over her. My shoulders softened, tension easing from my muscles. I swirled the cup in my hand, staying silent. Behind me, Greaves held his ground, my constant shadow.

Amber sunlight stretched across her golden hair, catching strands and drawing them back like ripe wheat bending under a warm wind. Her deep green dress would have the high ladies whispering with either envy or disdain, half of them plotting to replicate the style by morning.

An emerald collar hugged her neck, as did the fabric that molded to her torso, accentuating her shape before it fell to her hips and flared. The front hem cut slightly shorter than the back, revealing those ever-present leggings and boots.

A mark of her heritage. A reminder of who she was to me—a promise of peace.

“You survive a runaway horse,” I called, drawing her startled gaze as she whirled toward me. “Yet you seem perilously close to throwing yourself over the edge.” A faint smile pulled at my lips .

Her eyes sparked, and she dipped her head, hands clasped demurely before her. “King Kallias, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Something in the formality twisted inside me, her calling me king, as though it put a wall between us. She was a free spirit, fire-lit and untamed, her sharpness softened only by the loyalty she showed with Tallon, her claws sheathed but always ready.

“Kallias,” I corrected, sighing as I swirled my drink again, gaze drifting back to Radaan. “Call me Kallias.”

“I’m sure there’s a law somewhere that requires me to use your title,” she murmured, strolling over to lean against the wall beside me.

Maybe I should have kept my guard up, worn the cold mask I reserved for everyone else. But I came here to escape the weight of politics. Eldeiade never followed—she wouldn’t dare risk her hair to the breeze.

Nienna had burst through the door, unbothered by wind or decorum, a clear sign she’d tired of the pretense and its demands.

“And I’m sure there are rules about a prince letting a princess ride an untested horse,” I grunted, taking a sip from my mug. Heat spilled down my throat, the spice coaxing a fire within.

“I usually keep my seat.” Her tone turned indignant.

I cast her a sidelong glance, catching the furrow deepening between her brows.

“I’ve just never ridden in open country before,” she said.

“Open country?”

She sighed and braced her forearms on the wall, peering at the gardens below. Where Tallon shied from heights, she seemed to revel in them.

“Draconia is… not small. Perhaps it is, by your standards.” She let out a nervous laugh. “But we own the seas, not the plains. Horses are few, ridden only within the cities. They have no space to run free. I’ve always been confined when in the saddle.”

“In fairness, I should’ve known better,” I offered, trying to ease the sting of her pride. “Tallon brings younger horses when he rides out to the hounds.” I paused, then added, “I’m thankful you’re unharmed.”

She pressed her lips together as if she wanted to say more, yet held back. I remembered the chaos—the moment I’d pulled her to me, heart pounding in my chest. One wrong move from the horse, a single misstep, and she might not have survived. And that blood streaking her face?

My jaw clenched, rage simmering beneath the surface. Tallon never went to the temple seeking forgiveness. But for this, I would make him seek mine.

“Be free with your words,” I said with a rueful smirk. “I wager you’re sick of the masks and pretenses as well.”

“Yours or your son’s? ”

I choked, sputtering on my cider. She slapped a hand over her mouth, as though she could shove the comment back in.

When I caught my breath, a bitter laugh escaped me, and I shook my head.

“You may see me masked, but I always speak the truth. Tallon, however…” The words tasted heavy, a weight settling on my chest. I failed him, letting his mother mold him while I fought a war, neglecting him. He’d become a stranger, a man I no longer trusted—and she was bound to marry him.

“I see past his mask.” Her voice softened, her gaze meeting mine.

The look in her eyes unsettled me. That resignation. The acceptance that she was just another pawn in the game, a piece to be bartered. I knew she was—as was I. We all were. For the sake of our kingdoms, we gave up pieces of ourselves, sometimes in the form of who we married. But the quiet spark beyond her resignation stirred anger within.

“He’s still growing, still maturing.” I turned to the distant fields, patchworks of green and burnished gold stretching toward the horizon, roads and paths weaving between them like scars on the land.

She sighed. “He’s nineteen .”

A quiet pause settled between us. She shifted her weight, her gaze tracing the edge of the wall as if searching for words, yet none came right away. Her shoulders eased, though a faint tension lingered in the set of her jaw.

“I had nothing to do with the announcement at our ball,” she murmured at last.

I squinted into the distance, already aware—Tallon orchestrated that. But she wanted me to know, wanted to make it clear she held no designs on the throne.

Unlike my son.

“Tallon’s eager to be rid of me,” I said, my tone flat. She remained silent, offering no denial. “But I suspect these old bones will keep me here a few years yet.”

“You don’t look a day over thirty.”

I chuckled, then tossed back the last of my cider. Let her keep that lie. Perhaps it was my ego—I’d probably need to repent for indulging.

Gods, it was refreshing to have someone to be open with.

“Do you come here often?” she asked.

I straightened, casting one final, lingering gaze over my lands—lands I had fought for, shed too much blood for. “When court gets to be too much.”

She turned that mischievous smile on me. “And that’s fairly often?”

I scoffed, a half-grin forming. “Yes, I’d say more nights find me here than not.”

“I apologize for storming into your space. I won’t–”

“The palace is yours, Princess,” I cut in. “You may go where you will, when you will. If you’d like to join me, or claim the roof as your own, please do.” I dipped into a bow, one worthy of a princess… and perhaps a little deeper .

“Nienna—”

I straightened, cocking an eyebrow in question as she turned fully, facing me. She leaned against the wall, and the sun blinked out behind her, casting the space in ruddy shadows.

“—My name is Nienna.” A sly smile curved one corner of her mouth.

“Goodnight, Nienna.”

“Goodnight, Kallias.”

I started for the door, Greaves following. She wasn’t just a raging fire; she was a candlelight, flickering, brightening every room she entered. Her honesty, the ease with which she jested with me—it surprised me.

Perhaps the dragons had raised her with confidence, a sense of self that didn’t need approval. She would play the court’s game, but on her own terms.

The door clicked shut behind us.

“Kal.”

I paused at Greaves’ call, twisting to face him as I descended the staircase.

“Her guards,” he murmured, his tone low.

Curse it all. I’d been too caught up in her antics to notice. “She lost them.” I couldn’t help but smile, amused.

“Ordered them off, I’d wager.” He spoke in hushed tones, always so low no prying ears could hear. His brown eyes held warmth, a familiarity born from years of trying to lose each other in our youth.

“Go on then. I can manage, but I won’t risk her.”

He gave a short nod and spun back toward the balcony, his sword swaying with each step. Beneath his clothes, the weight of his plated leather armor shifted. She’d be safer with him by her side than with any of the castle guards.

I shook my head, descending the stairs alone. She was already smothered. When the Velli came, I’d have to tighten security even more.

Unease sifted through me at the thought of a Velli—ambassador or not—in my home? Meeting them on the border was one thing, but inviting them inside? It felt like a violation. I’d done everything to protect and preserve this palace, even when Eldeiade ruled in my stead.

With a steadying breath, my mask slid into place. Stern face, chin high, eyes cutting. The yoke pressed against me with every step, a chain of duty, one that reminded me why I was letting the Velli inside.

And why I was allowing Nienna to marry a man who wanted nothing to do with her.