Page 17 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Sixteen

Nienna

E dith’s sharp gaze bore into me, and I felt every ounce of her displeasure. She’d been watching me all morning, her eyes heavy with questions she hadn’t voiced. I avoided her scrutiny as best I could, burying myself in a thick tome about Radaan’s districts.

Her expression said everything. She noticed my state last night—bootless, cheeks flushed—and drew her own conclusions.

I let her.

What could she do?

The rooftop confessions still lingered, a slow burn within. They made me feel alive, more like a woman than any whispered promise ever had.

He wanted me.

The thought refused to leave, circling back, an unbidden dream. My fingers slackened on the book I held, the paragraph before me unreadable despite my repeated attempts. My mind wandered instead to the way Kallias’ trousers clung to his thighs, powerful and unyielding. I never imagined legs like that on a man—thick and solid, carved like the roots of an ancient oak.

The book slipped from my hands, tumbling to the floor with a heavy thud. I scrambled to retrieve it, my yelp echoing in the quiet room.

Edith sat poised in her chair, her knitting forgotten as she fixed me with a knowing glare. Her gray brows pinched together, suspicion sparking in her eyes. She thought she knew.

She’d assume it was Tallon.

No one would guess it was his father .

Scythe burst through the door, boots swinging from her hand like trophies. “Found them!”

“Where were they?” Edith asked, before I could muster a word of gratitude.

“Ballroom,” she said. “Gwyn swears half the guests left their shoes behind. Must’ve been quite the evening.”

She turned her back to Edith and strode toward my dressing room, her steps purposeful. As she passed, she shot me a quick wink. Trust Scythe to cover for me without asking questions.

I had no engagements today, no summons from Fyrn. I wasn’t sure if her absence was due to my attire the previous night or the Velli guest. Either way, the reprieve suited me just fine.

A shiver skated down my spine as I remembered the ambassador’s smile. At first glance, he almost passed for normal, even handsome—until he opened his mouth. What drove someone to file their teeth to points? Necessity? Religion? The thought curled in my stomach.

“I’m certain you’ve taken ill,” Edith murmured, her knitting needles resuming their rhythm. Her narrowed eyes didn’t match her calm tone. “First flushed, now pale as a ghost. Perhaps it’s best if you skipped dinner.”

“I’m fine,” I said too quickly, my voice betraying me. I couldn’t risk missing him—Kallias. Not after last night.

The memory of the rooftop swirled, vivid and heady. He dismissed Greaves to be alone with me, something he’d never done before. Would he dare again? I swallowed hard, anticipation quickening my pulse.

Edith grunted as Scythe began humming, her tune light and aimless while she set out my evening attire. I resigned myself to a dull day, determined to remain as unremarkable as possible until dinner.

As I dressed, nerves twisted in my stomach. The gown I chose was far more modest than last night’s daring ensemble. Deep emerald velvet swept to the floor, its high neckline brushing my collarbone. The bodice hugged my figure, leaving little to the imagination. Sleeves clung to my arms, and the flat black boots beneath the hem promised a mercifully steady footing. No risk of twisting an ankle tonight.

Edith worked with deft fingers, pinning my hair into a cascade of soft waves that spilled down my back. She stepped away, her sharp eye assessing every detail, before a small smile broke through her usual sternness. “Beautiful.”

My shoulders eased, tension slipping away under her rare praise. Edith could be severe, but she’d been my nursemaid for as long as I could remember. If anyone could make me feel beautiful, it was her.

“Thank you,” I murmured, rising to smooth the folds of my dress.

My pulse quickened. Would Kallias wear his signature evergreen tonight? The thought of our colors complementing each other sent a flutter through me .

Ridiculous. Silly. And yet, I couldn’t quite squash the hope.

The walk to the dining hall gave me ample time to strategize. Shedding a pair of guards had been manageable before, but parting with six—my new entourage—felt like planning a battlefield maneuver. Their boots thundered against the stone floor, the sound swallowing the quieter murmurs of the palace corridors.

When I arrived, I forced my breathing steady, repeating the courtly mantra: masks on, feelings hidden. This was a game, one I’d played before. Still, the sheer number of guards shadowing me gave me pause, their presence a wall between me and freedom.

The heavy doors swung wide, and the scent of Radaanian fare hit me—a blend of greens and savory gravy that stirred memories of simpler evenings.

Then his gaze met mine.

Across the expanse of the hall, Kallias turned. Distance blurred the details of his face—whether his jaw carried a shadow of stubble or remained smooth—but I felt the weight of his attention like a touch. A shiver ran through me, unbidden, as I recalled his words from the night before. My reply burned alongside them, a secret stretched taut between us, fragile as spun glass.

I forced my feet forward, drawing a steadying breath, and fixed my eyes on the dais. Tallon sat at his father’s right, and next to him, the Velli.

The heat ignited by Kallias’ gaze iced over. Had the prince replaced me with that creature? Egath’s presence radiated an unsettling authority, his sharp features a reminder of everything I didn’t trust. Where would I sit now? Did the prince even comprehend the consequences of such a slight?

At the base of the dais steps, I hesitated. Kallias’ gaze hadn’t wavered, his steady scrutiny a lifeline. He intervened for me before, his quiet authority speaking louder than Tallon’s empty gestures.

With a cool exhale, I climbed the steps. My resolve firmed, one thought anchoring me: I would not falter, no matter who sat where.

“Tallon.” The stern timbre of his voice rumbled, commanding immediate attention.

The prince abandoned his conversation mid-sentence. He scrambled from his chair and hurried down the steps. His enthusiasm might have impressed me if his first words hadn’t been, “Egath has a trick to show us.”

Egath’s smile remained polite, almost soft, but his eyes told a different story. A cold thread coiled in my chest, though years at court had trained me well. I returned his expression with a practiced grin, hollow but convincing.

I’d grown up among dragons. What was one man with filed teeth?

As we neared my seat, Egath rose. To my dismay, he slid into the chair beside mine, his presence a shadow at my elbow. Dread settled like a stone in my belly, but I took my place between Tallon and the Velli with the precision of a chess piece moved into position.

“Good evening, Your Highness.”

His voice, smooth and measured, still caught me off guard. I half-expected him to hiss through those unnerving teeth.

“Evening, Egath.” I unfolded the napkin in my lap, keeping my movements deliberate. “I trust your day went well?”

“Well enough.” He leaned forward with a casual disregard for decorum. His elbow pressed into the table, propping his angled chin on one hand. “The palace is charming, though I was disappointed to learn the city remains off-limits.”

His relaxed posture and loose manners grated against the rigid formality of the dining hall. Perhaps the Velli favored such informality, but it went against the practiced etiquette drilled into me.

I made a note to research his culture further. Gods knew the foreign advisor would be no help.

With any luck, the meal would begin soon, though the delay as Greaves sampled Kallias’ plate meant more of this dreadful small talk. My fingers tightened around the silverware, but I smiled as if nothing was amiss.

“I’m sure my father would–”

“Article Twenty-Three of the Treaty of Me’orn.” The king’s voice cut through the prince’s protest like a blade, low but commanding. “The people of Vellos are forbidden entry into Radaanian cities without written permission from the king.”

Tallon flinched but kept his eyes averted, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond his father’s stern face. I leaned to see over his shoulder, the subtle movement catching Kallias’ firm expression. His jaw clenched, and a muscle ticked near his temple, but he smoothed it with a deliberate blink before turning back to the noble at his left.

That small, silent gesture spoke volumes. It was a reminder, a reassurance—his promise to intervene when his son overstepped.

Tallon sighed, the sound heavy with defiance, and offered Egath a crooked, mocking smile. The message in that grin was unmistakable: Wait until I’m in charge.

Fortunately, Kallias was far from yielding his crown, his health and resolve still formidable.

The Velli chuckled, slouching in his seat with a calculated nonchalance. “Ah, therein lies my problem. One might think of this place as a prison.”

His arm draped over the back of my chair, and I stiffened. The unwelcome closeness sent a shiver crawling up my spine, but I resisted the urge to recoil. Instead, I adjusted my posture, maintaining the illusion of poise while inching away from his touch .

“The ink is barely dry on the treaty,” I replied, my voice steady though my jaw tightened. “Radaan will need time to adjust. Surely, you wouldn’t allow Radaanians to roam Velli soil unchecked.”

Egath’s grin widened, sharp and too knowing. “Then the blood on your marriage oath must be ready to drip off the page!” His laughter boomed, Tallon’s joining in. “And I daresay we’d welcome any Radaanians on our soil. In fact, send them.”

The undertone in his words prickled at my awareness, a veiled threat I couldn’t quite decipher. Frustration simmered under my skin, my ignorance gnawing at me. Before I could respond, the servants arrived, carrying bowls of steaming tomato soup laced with delicate noodles and fresh basil.

Tallon waved a hand over my bowl, his tone too light to mask his eagerness. “Show me your magic now.”

I glanced between them, suspicion curling in my chest.

Egath inclined his head, his movements fluid and deferential, though the smugness in his expression betrayed him. “I was waiting for Princess Nienna’s arrival. She wouldn’t want to miss such a spectacle.”

His outstretched hand hovered in invitation, pale and steady. “May I?”

My gaze fixed on him, narrowing as the weight of unspoken warnings pressed against my thoughts. “I’m unfamiliar with Velli magic,” I said, my tone cool. “Perhaps another time would be more appropriate.”

A polite refusal. No, I would not offer him my hand or let him work his magic on me. My bond with dragons made me a poor vessel—I dreaded to imagine what this man’s magic might inflict on my body.

“What are you so afraid of?” Tallon’s voice curled with mockery as he draped his arm across the back of my chair.

The sudden weight at my shoulders had me wanting to bolt. Panic swelled, but I forced myself to sit still. I was a princess. Even if my insides twisted with dread, I wouldn’t let them see me falter.

“Egath has had a long day. I’m sure he–” The words choked off as my throat tightened.

“Raised among dragons—don’t you remind me of that constantly?” the prince jeered.

The ambassador leaned forward, his sharp grin glinting like a blade. “Gracious! And now you fear a touch of Velli magic?”

My gaze dropped to my soup, steam curling from the surface. Noodles bobbed in the broth, taunting me with their stillness while rage churned within. How dare he. Tallon’s lack of tact, his audacity to side with this smug foreigner against his future queen, and he plays the fool .

Heat scorched my cheeks as I bared a vicious smile, pushing back my chair just enough to extend my hand. “You’re right. Compared to dragons, you’re hardly worth fearing.”

Egath’s grin spread like rot, slow and vile. His cold fingers brushed mine as he rolled my palm upright, his touch dry and unsettling. My instincts screamed to pull away, but I held firm.

His voice dipped into a measured hum as his fingertip traced the delicate skin on my wrist. “You know so little about Vellos, don’t you, Princess?”

“Easily remedied,” I murmured, my gaze flickering between his eyes and the pale finger gliding over my veins.

“I take it upon myself to teach you,” he continued.

A faint tickle built beneath the surface, a sensation that sank deeper with each pass. The itch crawled inside my bones.

“The Velli wield magic granted by Baenfior, God of the Abyss,” he explained, his tone rich with reverence. “In a land where survival demands sacrifice, he gave us blood magic. All possess it, but not all can wield it.”

His finger moved faster now, a hypnotic rhythm. My stomach turned as I watched the vein beneath my skin writhe, slithering toward his touch like a living thing.

“Some of us,” he continued, “draw power from blood—strength stolen at the cost of another’s life. Others control beasts with a single taste. Magic always demands a price, does it not?”

The vein squirmed, and my breath caught. I jerked my hand back, but Egath’s grip tightened, his forest-green eyes gleaming with malice.

“If only I had a drop of your blood—the things I could do.”

“Ambassador Egath—”

Kallias’ voice cut through the tension, steadying me. Without thinking, I leaned toward it.

“—would you recite Article Thirty-One of the treaty?”

The man snapped out of his trance, his gaze flicking up. The polite smile reappeared, though it seemed hollow. “No Velli shall ask for Radaanian blood.”

“Due to the breach of trust, I request you to retire to your rooms.” Kallias’ tone was flat, final. There was no question in his words.

Egath released my hand, leaning back and dropping his arms into his lap. Relief washed over me, but I kept my expression neutral, unwilling to show how eager I was to escape his grasp.

“She’s not Radaanian yet, and I didn’t ask for her blood,” he said. “I would never violate the treaty our men fought so bravely to establish.”

The reminder of war hovered in the air, thick and heavy. I kept my gaze fixed on the soup, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Egath’s movements, every subtle shift. The surrounding conversations fell silent, eager to catch whatever fragments of our exchange they could.

“You straddle the line, Ambassador.” Kallias’ voice was measured, but the warning beneath it was clear.

Egath rose, his smile tight, but his words wrapped in false contrition. “My sincerest apologies, Princess Nienna, and Your Majesty.” He bowed, then continued, “I am weary from my travels; an early night would be best.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked around the table, descending the stairs. The nobles’ stares followed him, whispers drifting as they tried to gauge his intentions. Was he making a statement by leaving before the first course? Or was it just coincidence?

“The war is over, Father,” Tallon growled.

Kallias’ cold eyes never left Egath, tracking his every movement. The Velli’s chin was held high, a subtle smirk dancing on his lips as he passed through the crowd and toward the doors.

“The war is over, but peace is maintained by vigilance,” Kallias murmured, his words barely more than a breath as the door closed behind Egath. He picked up his spoon, dipping it into the soup without another glance at me.

Tallon huffed and followed suit, but my focus remained on the bowl in front of me. The red liquid swirled, and my wrist itched, as if Egath’s fingers still traced the veins.

There would be no eating for me tonight.

Six guards trailed me, their armor clanking with every step. Subtlety had long since fled. I’d left the evening meal early, unable to stomach more than a few bites before nausea twisted my insides.

Rubbing my wrist, I moved through the castle’s winding corridors, confident I could reach the roof without assistance. The hem of my green dress swished against my boots, and the long sleeves clung to my arms, stifling in the castle’s heat. Far more clothed than I had been the night before.

I’d nearly talked myself out of it. After our last conversation, I wasn’t sure approaching him so soon was wise. Yet, if anyone could ease the discomfort of having a Velli in the palace, it was him.

It should have unsettled me that, when troubled, I sought his presence, craved his proximity. But Kallias was always there—steadfast, ready to shield me—even from myself .

I climbed the wrought-iron stairs, wincing at the sound of my guards’ footsteps echoing behind. Halfway up, the balcony door swung open, and Greaves’ fierce gaze met mine. I flashed him a quick, apologetic smile. His frown softened as a hint of resignation passed over his face.

“You’re relieved,” he said, his voice low and smooth—deeper than I expected from a man who spoke so little.

The guards stopped at the landing as I reached the top. I nodded my thanks to Greaves. He grunted in amusement and held the door open for me.

Kallias stood by the railing, a steaming mug beside him. The sun had long set, leaving the fading glow of twilight. Above us, the stars blinked into view. The tension that had knotted me all day began to unravel, and I let out a breath.

He was just… right . Kallias was my anchor, steady in any storm.

Tonight, his overcoat was absent, leaving his broad shoulders exposed. The golden chains of his mantle gleamed against the stark white of his tunic. He didn’t turn to greet me but nudged the mug further away, as though to make room for me.

I approached, a nervous flutter stirring in my belly—a different kind of unease. The air between us felt charged with an unfamiliar tension, the kind that made every step seem heavier than the last.

The mugs still steamed, evidence he hadn’t been there long. His cup, slightly drained, rested between his large hands. I picked up the second one, scrunching my nose as the bitter aroma hit me.

“This isn’t cider,” I said, frowning at the scalding liquid. The scent was sharp, acrid—far from pleasant.

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver up my spine. “No. Tonight, I needed something stronger.”

I squinted, but he smirked, raising an eyebrow before taking a sip.

“What is it?”

“Don’t trust me?” His voice dropped low as he shifted to face me, leaning against the wall—cocky, unbothered.

Besides Fyrn, Kallias was the only one I trusted in this palace. I growled in frustration, lifting it to my lips, holding my breath as I took a sip. The sweetness coated my tongue before a rich, nutty flavor hit. But when I swallowed, a bitterness lingered, unwelcome.

I clicked my tongue, studying the cup without meeting his gaze.

“Well?” he asked, amusement clear in his voice.

Another sip, and the same sweetness followed by an acrid aftertaste. “It’s… not very good.”

He laughed, and I smiled at the ease between us. Here he was, the king, letting me mock his drink of choice without rebuke. He accepted me as I was—unfiltered, unpolished—and found humor in it .

“Kahve,” he explained, reaching to take the cup.

I pulled it away, sheltering it from his grasp. When I took another sip, I winced at the taste.

“It’s a tea made from beans, not leaves. Grown in the south, a difficult plant to cultivate—luxurious.”

“Reserved for special occasions?” I asked, though I was unsure I could stomach more. Even if I didn’t like it, it meant something to him, and I would drink the whole thing just to prove I could.

“It energizes me,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “and calms me, in a way.”

“Bean tea versus leaf tea,” I teased, grimacing as another sip burned down my throat. “Beans must be stronger.” Who would have thought?

He shook his head, but his gaze dropped to my wrist, where Egath had gripped it. His eyes darkened. Without a word, he held out his hand, and I gave him my wrist without hesitation.

The strange sensation—the phantom touch—still lingered. A restless squirm beneath my skin that wasn’t quite normal. A twitch.

His thumb traced the blue veins, his gaze flickering up to meet mine, and his brow furrowed.

“You’re safe here,” he murmured.

With you , I wanted to say. With you, I’m safe .

“He won’t hurt you—or any Radaanian—while the treaty stands.”

The words hit like a blow. The treaty, the fragile thread that held Radaan’s safety in place. One that relied on my marriage to Tallon and the promise of dragons patrolling the mountains.

No matter how right Kallias felt at this moment, or how I longed for him to pull me closer…

I was not his.

A rush of heat bloomed in my cheeks, and desire clawed at me, threatening to spill over. I pulled away from him, afraid I might act on the hunger gnawing at my sanity. I took another sip of the vile drink, staring over the dark fields. They stretched out in a patchwork of navy and gray, silent and still.

Kallias didn’t speak. We stayed there in the quiet, staring out at the sleeping fields, long after our mugs had gone cold and empty.