Page 11 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Ten

Nienna

I recited the names of Draconia’s bull dragons in silence, resisting the urge to cuff the prince. He lounged beside me, head tipped back as he stared at the ceiling, his arm slung behind a nobleman who sat a bit straighter. Every time I glanced his way, Tallon offered a smirk, his gaze pompous and haughty.

General Fallione loomed over the council room’s map, his finger tapping the jagged mountains that separated Vellos from Radaan. “We have enough to fortify the southern Craggs. But pull more men for the harvest, and we couldn’t fend off an attack to the north. I’m telling you, you need to leave each tower stationed with three companies at least.”

“Attack,” Tallon mocked under his breath.

Gyrak. Argos. Lyne. Tewar.

Kallias cast his son a cold look, then bent over the table, scrutinizing the range. “Those men are needed for the harvest; they’ve been promised a six month reprieve.” His thumb traced each watchtower on the map, a flicker of tension in his brow.

Tallon propped himself up, his smirk as cutting as a drawn blade. “We have a treaty signed by King Guntarri himself,” he drawled, voice oozing confidence. “Unless the reason we are allying with Draconia is because you’re nervous it won’t hold.”

The nobleman to his right murmured with faint interest, and I pressed my lips tight, biting back words that itched to escape. Most of the council held their tongues, unfazed, as if Tallon’s interruptions were as ordinary as the council’s own breath. But a handful—those younger members who would one day shoulder the kingdom beside the prince—watched him with a mix of curiosity and reluctant acceptance.

Kallias leaned forward, bracing his hands against the table, his glare pinning Tallon in place. The chains of his mantle swung just above the map, a gleaming reminder of his authority— he was king. A silent rebuke.

Tension thickened, coiling like a storm cloud, as father and son waged a wordless battle with locked eyes.

Enough of Tallon.

“May I speak?” I asked, not waiting for an answer as I rose to my feet, the fabric of my dress whispering as I shook it into place.

Kallias’ gaze snapped to me, his brows tightening, as if weighing whether I might side with his son, challenging him in the open.

I was not so foolish.

“Please.” The king’s single word cut short, guarded—a welcome laced with challenge.

I approached the table, and two councilmen shifted their chairs aside, clearing my path. “You’re concerned with the Cragg’s defenses, but through our alliance, you have the might of dragonkind.”

“The union is not yet sealed.” His frown deepened, though his voice softened a shade.

“I’ve given the Dragon’s Kiss to Radaan.” My cheeks flushed as I spoke, the words like embers in my throat. “My dragons are yours, King Kallias. I’ll write to my father.”

The corner of that handsome mouth twitched, a flicker of intrigue at my boldness. I leaned over the map, stretching forward to trace the watchtowers with my fingertip, my gaze falling away from his piercing stare as heat crept up my cheeks.

“Five dragons would be an easy concession for Draconia. Keep two companies stationed at each tower, but position a rider at every other one. They can make the flight swiftly, sound an alarm, and stir up enough presence to hold a line.”

I forced down the knot in my throat as Tallon muttered something behind me, his voice like a burr against my thoughts. I straightened, wrestled my nerves into submission, and fixed a polite mask over my face. Kallias returned his focus to the map, eyes distant and thoughtful.

Shame prickled at me. I’d overstepped, spoken too brashly. It wasn’t my place to dictate strategy or troop placements; that was the war council’s domain. I was here as a bargaining chip—a princess promised to secure alliances and produce heirs—not to meddle in the kingdom’s defenses.

Not a strategist. A figurehead. A pawn .

Kallias lifted his gaze, meeting mine with an intensity that broke through my self-reproach. “And what accommodations do five dragons require?”

Relief washed over me, and my shoulders eased, the tension melting away at his question. “They need open sky, space to hunt.” I held his challenging stare, an unexpected thrill sparking in me. “And I understand the Craggs have an abundance of goats.”

“My father will be mortified you offered the goats.” Fyrn snickered as she led me back to my quarters.

“Claydon’sol has assured me he’s found the finest buck to sire the next generation.”

“Ah, yes. He prattles on and on about their coats. Apparently, their pelts and fibers are worth far more than their meat. Still—I must say—I’m happier here than in our manor.”

I raised a brow, curious.

“It doesn’t reek of livestock here.”

A laugh burst out, and I shook my head at her antics.

Claydon’sol lingered at court to secure a suitor for Fyrn, but she was proving to be quite the free spirit. To his credit, he allowed her to have the final say, and so far, she’d found none to her liking.

“Just two more nights of his musings,” she assured, giving my arm a gentle pat, “then he’ll be off to manage the manor, and we’ll be gloriously goat-free.”

“You’re staying, then?”

“I have a season pass. If I don’t find a husband by winter, I’ll return home.” She gave an exaggerated sigh, then flashed a playful smile. “That gives me months to peruse the goods! Oh!” She glanced over her shoulder at our guards, then down the corridor. “Would you like to watch the prince spar?”

Unease stirred beneath my skin, thick and unwelcome. The last thing I wanted was to spend another moment penned in a room with him. I’d sooner track down Claydon’sol to discuss goat pedigrees than endure more of Tallon’s smug smirks.

“The king has ordered His Highness to spar with him every day this week.”

A strange thrill fluttered low in my belly, one I quickly crushed. Why did the thought of watching Tallon fill me with dread, yet the idea of seeing his father sent my pulse racing?

Did they exchange blows outdoors beneath the searing sun or inside, where light filtered through high windows? Would Kallias shed his mantle, his yoke of authority? The way his clothing draped over his broad frame and trim waist was a silent testament to his strength—strength that hadn’t faded with age.

My mind drifted back to the warmth of his calloused hand brushing against mine, its roughness a memory I couldn’t shake.

“If you’d rather not–”

“No.” I forced the word out, shaking off the errant thoughts. “I’d love to watch Tallon fight, yes—very much.”

Fyrn smirked, and I caught that glint of mischief in her eyes. Did she think my awkward stumbles were for the prince—when I was actually thinking about his father?

“Tomorrow, then, after the council meets.” She hummed to herself as we continued along. “Tonight’s dinner will be quite the affair. An ambassador from the Ivetti Islands arrived. Word is they’ve come just to witness your wedding.”

I forced myself to soften my words, though I wanted to bite them out. “The wedding isn’t for months.” I knew what I was—understood the role I’d been given. But now that I learned Tallon’s true colors, I couldn’t stomach the idea of marrying him. Would we end up like his parents in a cold, distant arrangement? Strangers beneath the same roof? The thought made me feel hollow.

“Don’t fret,” Fyrn mused. “They’re the only ones arriving so early.”

When we arrived at my rooms, my gaze drifted to the carved dragons adorning the door’s dark wood. Their wings swept up in graceful arcs, frozen in a moment of flight, yet bound to the surface. My heart twisted, envy stirring at the freedom in their poses.

“They’ll be grounded by storms if they wait any longer,” I said.

The Ivetti Islands lay close to my home, a scattered chain tossed westward across the sea. The whirlstorms hit Draconia first, moving on to churn over Ivetti waters for weeks, sometimes months. If the ambassadors waited, they’d be stranded, unable to attend at all.

“Do you know their ambassador?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t. Only Princess Kittiana—she’s visited a handful of times, though it’s unlikely she’ll leave the islands now.”

Fyrn’s eyes brightened, and she nudged my shoulder with a cheerful grin. “Then tonight, you shall.”

She dipped into a playful curtsy, her blonde curls bouncing, then turned down the corridor. I drew in a deep breath and entered my room, closing the door behind me.

“How was it?” Scythe blurted, rising from the chaise.

Edith hushed her with a stern glare, standing as her sharp gaze swept over me, searching for any sign of distress or need.

“It was,” I hesitated, recalling Tallon’s push against his father and Kallias’ calm attentiveness, “intriguing. ”

Scythe’s face brightened as she hurried toward me, her hair flying behind her. Edith glanced at her wisps and patted her own gray hair down as if it made her feel unkempt.

“Edith, I’m parched.”

She exhaled a resigned sigh and shook her head, already knowing why I was dismissing her. “I’ll fetch some refreshments before we prepare you for the evening meal.”

Scythe grinned like a fool, staring after her as she slipped out the servant door. “Tell me, tell me!”

She seized my hand, dragging me toward my bedchamber. We collapsed atop the plush blankets, laughter spilling from us as we tumbled in an awkward heap.

“You want to hear of old men discussing borders?” I teased, spreading my arms wide in a theatrical gesture.

“No! Only the exciting bits!”

She threw herself at me, pinning my arm beneath her. I squealed, struggling to free my limb as she settled in, propping her head on her hand.

“Tallon fought with his father again.”

“That seems to be the trend.” She hummed, nodding.

“I don’t understand why he pushes him. Kallias is right! They just–”

“ King Kallias?”

My mouth snapped shut, brows dropping into a glare.

She waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, do go on.”

“ King Kallias had a point. The ink on the Velli treaty is still fresh, and they’re wise to proceed with caution. Until I’m married and the alliance sealed, they have nothing to deter an invasion. They need dragons, so I’ll write Father and request a fleet.”

She bolted upright, back straight, eyes wide with disbelief. “You want dragons in Radaan?”

“They’ll be tucked away in the Craggs, far from the townsfolk, and with all the goats they can eat.” I chuckled. “It’ll be more like a vacation for them than anything.”

“I don’t doubt your father would send them.” She sighed, sinking back against the bed. “I’m just concerned for the Radaanian citizens.”

“I’ll warn Kallias. He’ll know what to expect.”

“You should’ve seen the way people ogled Gyrak. No sense of self-preservation.”

“Radaan is used to horses, cattle, and sheep.”

“They’re soft.”

“No.” I closed my eyes and laced my hands behind my head. “Radaan’s fresh from war. They crave peace—Kallias craves peace. They’ve fought and bled for their land. Radaan’s people are proud, courageous. They may not be accustomed to dragons, but they are not soft. They’re just not Draconis.”

Silence reigned, and Scythe’s curiosity buzzed in the air. I rolled over to face her, locking eyes with her gleaming gaze.

“You called him Kallias again,” she said.

I groaned and grabbed a pillow, aiming it at her with a laugh. She shrieked and ducked, grinning as she dodged my assault.

“He’s my future father-in-law! I can call him by his first name!”

“Oh, but the way your eyes sparkle and glow!”

I chased her across the bed, whacking her with another pillow.

When Edith returned, we were a hysteric heap of laughter, my bedchamber in disarray.

When I entered the dining hall, I fought to keep my face neutral as Tallon offered me his arm. My gaze drifted to Kallias, who stood with a group of individuals engaged in easy conversation.

The Ivetti ambassador, a woman in a long flowing garment that trailed along the floor, wore a strip of matching cloth around her neck that cascaded to the ground. It was far more modest than the attire her people wore—or rather, didn’t wear.

Behind her stood a guard clad in trousers and leather armor, a typical Ivetti choice. His arms, covered in intricate markings, hinted at their customs and rich culture.

“Neighbors of yours?”

The question, framed in his dismissive tone, irked me. He judged them based on appearances, unaware of their true nature. The Ivetti were among the most generous people I knew, their kindness extending far beyond what most understood. The only thing that kept other nations from threatening their island home was the whirlstorms, which made any siege impossible.

“Friendly ones, unlike yours,” I muttered.

He chuckled. “Vellos is friendly enough—if you know how to win them over.”

I stiffened as I realized he was steering us away from them—toward the dais. “We should greet the ambassador lest we fail to win them over,” I suggested, my tone sharper than I intended—though with Tallon, some force seemed to be necessary.

“Kallias will take care of it. ”

He ascended the first step, and it took every ounce of restraint not to wrench my arm free and march straight to the group.

“This will be your kingdom one day. Perhaps you should develop some relations,” I hissed, my smile concealing my irritation.

“You’re right—”

He gave my relief no chance to take root.

“—it will be my kingdom one day.”

He led me up the stairs and to my chair, waiting until I sat before shoving it in, pinning me against the table. I grunted, bracing against the wood to keep from being crushed.

His breath tickled my ear as he leaned down to whisper, “You would do well to remember that.”

My fury flared like dragon’s fire, hands trembling as I pressed them into my lap. Tallon’s chuckle stoked the flames, turning my vision red. At that moment, Kallias stormed up the dais, his presence and indignation sweeping toward us like a raging whirlstorm.

Tallon moved to sit beside me, but the king strode around the table and snared his arm, hauling him upright. I kept my gaze down, unwilling to make a scene. Nobles exchanged glances, their attention shifting between the ambassador and the rising tension between the royals.

The two exchanged angry words. Then Kallias released him, watching as his son adjusted his overcoat. He sank into his seat next to mine, face flushed crimson.

Unease spiraled within, and I wasn’t sure if I should feel angry, grateful, or if the letter to my father would request my return. I understood the logistics of why this alliance needed to happen, but I hadn’t anticipated the reality. Tallon wanted nothing to do with me, and Kallias would always have to be the one to rescue me.

I expected some mutual understanding between us—that even if he found me unattractive, too vocal or opinionated for his tastes, we could make this work. We didn’t have to fall in love. I could find Radaanian friends, people to care for, but we needed compatibility. Tallon, however, was proving to be a hard match in that regard.

The king found his seat, and I fought to ignore the seething hatred emanating from his son. A servant set a plate in front of me—piled with greens and earthy vegetables, glistening in oil and vinegar. Only when Kallias took the first bite did we begin to eat. The murmur of voices in the hall rose to a pleasant backdrop amidst the tense silence that clung to the dais.

Nobles approached between courses, discussing various topics, while Tallon remained aloof, listening to a young man discuss a horse race in the western region. It took me two courses before I noticed the Ivetti ambassador’s untouched plate.

A tight knot formed in my stomach. No one had considered their customs.

In public, they never ate until their first bite was given. The act was a sacred gesture, woven into their faith. She would return to her quarters and eat alone, but here, she would not eat without a companion to share her food with.

I searched the room for her guard, spotting him at the far wall, blending with the other attendants—except Greaves, who lingered in the king’s shadow.

Kallias met my eyes, head tipped as if sensing my concern.

My jaw tightened. As an ambassador, she deserved respect. She would have offered her food to the noblewomen beside her, but clearly, they had declined.

I twisted my hands in my lap, the pressure of indecision rising. Walking away from Tallon before the meal was finished would be a grave insult. Yet, this was my future kingdom, and Radaan needed allies. In this setting, leaving would cost me respect. But it was equally disrespectful to let an ambassador go hungry.

It should have been Tallon’s responsibility—or even Kallias’—to ensure she had someone to share her meal. Who was in charge of international relations? I’d give them a piece of my mind when I found them.

The woman kept her gaze fixed on her plate, a polite smile masking her discomfort. She nodded at something said to her, but the flush on her face could have been anger, burning her cheeks a bright red.

I forced my chair back with a sharp scrape, then ducked my head to mask my cringe as I pushed to my feet. Every eye followed my movement, but I met Kallias’ calm blue gaze as he stood with me. Tallon followed, after a long breath, and the conversation ebbed to murmurs.

“What are you doing?” the prince growled, his voice low and dangerous.

I shivered, feeling the heat of his ire, like standing too close to a ravenous wolf ready to snap.

“Your duty!” I hissed. My eyes snapped to the king before I sank into a shallow curtsy. “I beg your leave.”

Kallias’ gaze flicked to Tallon, and after a brief moment, he dipped his head, granting me release. I turned away from the table, my palms slick with sweat as the murmurs in the room softened to whispers. With a practiced smile, I lifted my chin and descended the stairs, grateful for the split in my dress. At least I didn’t have to worry about tripping.

As I passed between the rows of tables, all eyes were on me, the weight of their stares making me feel like I was walking through a performance. The ambassador caught my gaze and, realizing where I was headed, rose to her feet. She smiled, her teeth a sharp contrast to her dark complexion. Her black hair cascaded in intricate braids, hanging over her shoulder and down her back. She curtsied as I stopped before her .

“Le’hoim bless you,” I greeted, dipping my head in respect.

“Blessed be you, Princess Nienna, the Dragon’s Heart.” Her voice was soft, melodic, and as she met my gaze again, her dark eyes sparkled with gratitude. She reached for her plate and extended it toward me. “Would you share my bounty?”

“Many thanks.”

I surveyed the food before plucking a single grape. As I chewed, I did my best to keep the sound as quiet as possible. It seemed every noble had fallen silent, their eyes fixed on the exchange. Surely, even Kallias across the room could hear the soft click of my teeth as I swallowed.

“Blessed be.” I dipped my head again, and the ambassador curtsied, echoing my words.

It was a simple gesture—yet no one had seen to it or made proper accommodations. As the future queen, it would be my responsibility to ensure even the ambassadors of other nations felt welcomed here. Everyone deserved care, respect, and hospitality.

I turned back toward the dais, my gaze drifting to Kallias. His brow furrowed, a deep crease marking the space between his eyes. Tallon had returned to his seat beside him, but he remained standing, his attention fixed on me as I approached.

He was kind—had shown me nothing but warmth. He wouldn’t turn me away.

I paused at the base of the stairs, waiting for his signal. When he nodded, granting me permission to ascend, I measured each step with practiced care. As I reached the top, Tallon, with much reluctance, rose to assist me, but I hardly noticed as I sank into my chair. Kallias resumed his seat, the world around us returning to its quiet hum as if nothing shifted.

As if I hadn’t just salvaged the dignity of a kingdom that wasn’t mine yet.

My hands trembled as I ascended the spiral staircase, doubt twisting in my chest. If Kallias was elsewhere, I’d step out for a breath of fresh air before retreating to my rooms. But if he lingered on the balcony, I planned to offer an apology for my impulsive actions.

It gnawed at me throughout the rest of the dinner. I should have spoken to him first, rather than taking matters into my own hands. I wasn’t part of this kingdom yet, held no claim to its customs. My actions had been an overstep—and I feared I’d made him look foolish .

I couldn’t care less if Tallon had been embarrassed—but Kallias? He was far more perceptive than his son, more capable of understanding the nuances of diplomacy. He didn’t deserve that.

The frogs vanished beneath my boots as I reached the end of the stairwell. I paused at the balcony door, steadying my breath, then pushed it open and scanned the rooftop before stepping into the twilight. The sight that met me froze me in place.

Kallias leaned against the stone wall facing me, elbows braced, his head tilted back, eyes closed. With the strain of his posture, his overcoat pulled taut, the top button undone. His legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, as if he had all the time in the world.

The door clicked shut behind me, and he jerked. His cornflower blue gaze locked onto mine, sharp and unreadable, his expression set with a hint of irritation. He straightened with slow deliberation, rolling his shoulders, and the air thickened with unspoken tension.

I forced my composure back into place and sank into a deep curtsy. “My apologies for tonight, Your Majesty. I should have sought your–”

“Rise.” His voice was tight, his jaw clenched as he towered over me.

I cringed inwardly, wondering if I’d undone the fragile goodwill between us.

“Was it not ‘Kallias’ yesterday?” he asked.

I stole a glance at Greaves, who chose that moment to examine his nails.

“I owe you my thanks,” he said.

When I straightened, my hands clasped in front of my dress. The fading sunlight caught his silvering hair, setting it ablaze with a soft glow. His hand twitched at his side, a brief wince crossing his face before he averted his gaze, fixing it on the patchwork fields stretching into the distance.

“It was a misstep—one you remedied.” He exhaled long and slow, then turned to me, nodding once. “You have my thanks for saving our reputation with the Ivetti.”

“Their princess visited Draconia in the quiet season. I know their ways well.”

“Perhaps I should put you in charge of cultural relations,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight onto his heels.

The ease in his stance, paired with the teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, made him appear younger. I couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at my own lips.

“I would love to help,” I said, my excitement clear. The thought of meaningful work, instead of endless socializing, would be a welcome breath of fresh air .

“I jest.”

“No! Really,” I protested, watching his smile fade into a thin line. The shift was as abrupt as a door slamming shut. “If Radaan is to be my home, I have a duty to help in any way I can.”

He turned away from me, his expression hardening as he walked toward the wall. His hands remained in his pockets, but the ease of a moment ago had vanished, replaced by a quiet tension.

“I apologize if I overstepped.” I stepped closer, uncertain where things had gone astray. One instant, he was open, almost tender; the next, he shut me and the world out.

“You did nothing wrong.” His voice was tight, and a forced smile twisted his lips as he exhaled a heavy sigh.

Silence stretched, thick and unyielding. I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. The wind lifted my hair, pulling it away from my face, and I smiled, letting the breeze wash over me. For a fleeting moment, I soaked up the memory of flying.

“Goodnight.”

I hated the way my chest tightened as he took his leave, the soft rhythm of his steps swallowed by the rising wind. It felt as if I’d done something terribly wrong.