Page 27 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Kallias

T he impact of my blade sent Greaves pivoting to the side. I gritted my teeth and charged forward, refusing to let him escape. Sweat slicked my skin, the damp tunic chafing with each movement. I parried his lunge, and in the same motion, drove my sword beneath his guard. He staggered back with a sharp grunt.

I pressed the attack, fury blinding my judgment. Tomorrow, we were meant to leave for the Sol district, but Tallon claimed to be sick. I’d been foolish enough to check on him—only to find him not ill, but violently drunk.

Too much wine would do that.

Healers already did what they could, administering charcoal to purge the alcohol from his system, but he would be in no condition to travel.

It was his duty to escort her, yet now he lay incapacitated.

Egath remained locked away in his rooms and garden, his movements restricted, until we could identify the mastermind behind the attack.

That left just two of us to make the journey to the mountain manor—me and the princess.

Frustration exploded through my strike, landing against Greaves’ block. He staggered under the force, panting as he struggled to keep up. Determination flared in his dark eyes, and he shifted his approach, allowing me to hammer down on him.

Nienna needed to leave Reem. Though she excelled in court, a wild restlessness flickered in her gaze—something the palace walls couldn’t contain. She was a creature of open air, suffocating in that gilded cage .

She deserved better.

Greaves found the gap in my guard, his fingers snatching my wrist. I jerked away, slashing a wide arc. He snarled and let go, his gaze flicking to my feet, calculating his next move.

No, she needed this escape, but I wasn’t the only one who should be escorting her. The ride would take two days—all of which would be spent in her company. Sharing meals. Sleeping in the same house.

When we arrived, I would find sanctuary in the mountain manor. It was one of the few places I could lower my guard. Claydon had seen me at my worst on the battlefield. A healer, not a warrior, he disregarded his noble status to fight in the war, his hands stained with blood more than once. He’d patched me up countless times.

It would be too easy to slip into old habits. Too familiar. Clay was too trusting, and sneaking through the hall to another room would be effortless.

The temptation would be unbearable.

But this was what Nienna needed. What she craved. And I would give it to her.

And if she asked for more?

Could I say no?

Greaves slipped past my guard, driving his weight into my shoulder. The blow landed with a grunt, sending me stumbling back. Blood throbbed in my temples, and my sword tip dipped toward the ground. Frustration bubbled up as I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at it.

“I’m taking her,” I hissed, wiping the sweat from my brow.

“And here I thought you took her in the alley,” he shot back, grunting as he sheathed his blade.

My sword thudded into its sheath, and I tugged at my tunic, pulling it away from my damp skin. “To the manor, Greaves.”

“I figured,” he hummed, shrugging. “Will we be taking the Threshers?”

“I don’t want them in the house.”

“Too many eyes?”

I paused, letting my glare settle on him. “To give her space.”

She needed a break from her guards, and the manor was the one place I could offer her that. If only for a few days.

We retreated to a cramped room beneath the stands, rinsing off the grime before heading to my quarters for a proper bath.

He settled beside the basin, his eyes fixed on me, lips pressed tight. “It’s dangerous,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, but something about the way he spoke made me feel compelled to answer.

“Nothing will happen.” I splashed cold water across my face, the chill biting into my skin.

Please, don’t let me yield to her.

It was the truth. This had to remain a dead end. Stolen kisses were one thing—shameful, disgraceful—but the thought of going further with her? That was a line I dared not cross.

But it would be so easy. She wanted me. The way she kissed me, her hands drifting over me when I held her close. The soft gasps as I traced her skin.

Yet it couldn’t go further. It shouldn’t have even come this far. If I lost control and took her, the consequences would be worse than war. If I claimed her, we risked a child. The contract would be void. My name—tarnished. My god—forsaking me.

And there would be no hiding it. Tallon would know on their wedding night.

The thought of the healers inspecting the sheets made my stomach turn. They would announce she wasn’t a virgin, and she would be sent back to Draconia—shamed, discarded, her worth diminished.

What would her father do? Even if he didn’t know the truth, he would blame Radaan. And then I’d find myself at war on two fronts.

I couldn’t afford to lose control around her. Too much was at stake, and it was too easy to forget that.

“Do you want me to step in?” Greaves asked, his voice flat. There was no teasing, no challenge in his tone. He wasn’t probing; he was offering a lifeline. If I faltered, he was asking if he should risk his position—his duty as a bodyguard—to protect my reputation and hers.

I rubbed my face with a towel, my frustration rising. “Greaves, if I cannot be trusted to keep my trousers on, how can the people trust me to rule a kingdom?” I shook my head with a grimace. “No, it will be fine.”

He sighed, stepping up to the basin. “It’s supposed to be a vacation.” He splashed his face with water. “Somehow, I think I’ll get even less sleep.”

Darius watched me too closely. His sharp gaze dissected each movement, every shift in my posture. I kept my distance from Nienna as she sat beside me, her presence too close for comfort.

I hoped he hadn’t seen the flash of desire or recognition in my eyes when she walked down the aisle. Her skirt, split into panels, parted at the waist to reveal gold breeches beneath her deep green dress.

And the dagger strapped to her thigh .

My blade. Pressed flush against her skin, yet displayed for all to see. It was her silent challenge to the court: I won’t cower. I have teeth. I have claws.

A dark pulse of satisfaction stirred within me, as if I had marked her, claimed her, for all to witness. Though no one knew—and she was not mine.

She belonged to the disgraceful sot who lay in his bed, a drunken mess.

I treated her with the respect her title demanded, cautious with every word and gesture. I had to remind myself—she was the princess of Draconia, nothing more.

The lie gnawed at my resolve, each breath a little heavier. How long before Elohios would strike, or worse, abandon me? I needed to shift Darius’ focus, quell the growing storm in my chest, and avoid the twitch that threatened my eye all night. I gestured to a servant, ordering Fyrn’sol to the dais.

Nienna’s gaze shifted, a smile threatening the corner of my mouth. She was intrigued. Never before had I called her friend to my table.

Fyrn descended the stairs, her wine-colored gown rustling with each step. She glanced at Nienna before dipping into a curtsy at the bottom. I nodded, and she gathered the fabric of her skirts, climbing toward us with careful steps.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice steady despite the slight furrow in her brow. Her eyes were sharp, assessing, betraying a trace of nerves.

I tucked that observation away.

“Evening, Fyrn’sol. How is your mother?” I asked, aware of Darius chewing next to me. He would catch anything I didn’t.

Her hand clutched her dress, fingers twitching with uncertainty, as she glanced at Nienna. “Gayle’sol is well… as far as I know, my king. Do you have news?”

“I don’t. But if it’s been so long since you’ve heard from her—we’re heading to your family manor in two days’ time. I’d like you to come along.”

A flicker of something foreign tugged at the corners of her mouth before she masked it. My smile remained steady, but unease coiled in my gut. Claydon was as fair as any man. Why would she distance herself from her own family?

“We’ll stay a week, then return to Reem as planned. I’m sure the princess would enjoy your company.”

I would appreciate the added witness, a shield to keep me from indulging any foolish fantasies.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” She nodded and flashed a quick smile at Nienna, who I assumed would be pleased. The two were constant companions—when the princess wasn’t slipping away unnoticed.

With Fyrn’sol at the manor, my temptation would be eased. The pull of desire, always lurking, would be lessened.

I could rest easy now.

There would be no resting. My hand settled against my thigh, a forced gesture of ease. Tension knotted in my shoulders beneath the mantle, but I kept my hips loose, moving in rhythm with my stallion.

Nienna rode beside me, in Greaves’ usual place. As princess, she should have been behind me, alongside Fyrn, as we left Reem.

Unfortunately, the woman fell ill this morning. I inquired after her, hoping to delay our trip for her. The healers were uncertain whether it was something she ate or some minor plague, but unless I wanted Nienna trapped with someone vomiting their every meal, we had to leave without her.

When the princess arrived in the courtyard, reaffirming her choice to ride astride, a weight lifted from my chest. Riding horseback was grueling, but pulling a carriage up the mountainside was nearly impossible.

She hesitated before the white gelding, biting her lip in a rare show of nerves. Swallowing my pride, I offered her a hand up. She trembled under my touch as I slid her boot into the stirrup, my fingers brushing her calf before I let go.

A rush of memories flooded in—the library…

Her dress parted around her breeches, her skirts fanning over the gelding’s rump. Black-clad legs emerged, the tight fabric outlining her form.

The sight of her brought an uncomfortable reminder of my own constricting trousers.

Despite the discomfort, a smile tugged at my lips. The people of Radaan had heard of our journey, tossing flowers beneath our horses’ hooves. Citizens cheered, calling me by my titles—King Kallias, King of the Plentiful Plains. Golden Warrior of Elohios. Warrior of Sun and Spear.

But what warmed me most was the way they greeted Nienna.

“Blessed be Princess Nienna, The Dragon’s Heart!”

“Long live Nienna of Draconia, loved of Veridis!”

Either the priestesses or Fyrn had spread word of her multiple visits to the temple. Had she claimed Veridis as her goddess? It would be unexpected for a Draconis, but it would win the people’s favor.

And mine.

A warmth spread through me at the thought. To choose a Radaanian god would be an act of faith—one that a Draconis, who had never witnessed such gods in action, would find hard to make. For her to embrace Veridis would be a step beyond belief; it would be an affirmation of something deep and real.

She would be a queen to remember .

Tallon’s queen, I reminded myself, teeth clenched as we passed through Reem’s outer walls.

She was not mine, and never would be.

The thought soured my stomach. I shifted in my seat, trying to ignore the unease gnawing at me.

Nienna’s gelding snorted, stepping forward in a sudden prance that pulled my attention back to her.

Her grip on the reins tightened, her knuckles pale. The smile she’d worn was long gone, replaced by a hard, neutral expression. A small crease appeared between her brows, only to vanish again. Her gaze flicked to mine, and I saw a streak of unease buried there.

Open fields stretched ahead, the crowd parting to let us through. Though fewer commoners lined the streets, the press of bodies still made it difficult to ask what bothered her.

The gelding’s ears twitched. Another step, a restless prance, and Nienna pulled in a sharp breath.

“Easy,” I murmured, guiding my stallion closer.

Her horse, a palace steed, was steady—one I’d sit a child on with confidence. Yet, it sensed her tension, its movements uncertain.

“It won’t bolt.” I glanced at the guards ahead, acknowledging the citizens who bowed as we passed.

Nienna’s gaze lingered on the horizon, a shadow crossing her face. She would remember the last time she’d ridden a green steed—Tallon’s foolishness still fresh in her mind.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Her formality struck a sour chord. Here I was—King of Radaan, not Kallias. In front of my people, we were two royals, nothing more.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat, keeping my stallion close as we left the palace behind.

When the sun reached its zenith, it began its slow descent toward the horizon. We continued to ride, the world stretching wide before us. Nienna seemed to relax with each passing mile, her mount growing steadier beneath her.

The hours slipped by, the sun casting a soft amber glow on the land.

Phares appeared in the distance—the city of sunshine, where the earth was cleared for miles around. Golden fields of wheat stretched out, glowing orange in the fading light. The harvest had begun, leaving patches of bare land where crops had been cut. No trees marked the horizon—just open, unnerving emptiness.

The sight unsettled me, but the dread that rattled my bones had nothing to do with the vista itself—but the people within those walls .

I wished I could prepare Nienna for what awaited her. She had already faced Tallon’s cruelty, and I had no doubt she could handle whatever the Phares threw at her.

But Bac’phares—he was another matter. A stubborn man who resisted my efforts in the war, having to be ordered for every tax collection. He was a thorn in my side, tight-fisted and greedy, a brute whose selfishness knew no bounds. His wife was as thin as he was stocky and was known for her words that cut as deep and often as her whip.

Fallione had been tasked with finding a way to remove them. They had no heir, and I could place anyone I wished in their stead. If only I could find evidence to condemn them.

“Garett, let Phares know we’re arriving.” My voice rasped, thick with disuse. The bitter weight of being unable to speak freely with Nienna gnawed at me.

The guard nodded and gave a small bow. “Yes, Your Majesty!” He spurred his horse into a swift gallop, heading toward the city.

Bac would have watchers posted along the walls, so they should’ve been ready for us. But I never took anything for granted with the man.

“We are staying with the noble family tonight?” Nienna asked.

“Yes, the Phares.” I turned toward her. “Only for the night. We’ll share their table, then leave at dawn.”

She narrowed her eyes, studying my face with intent. “And you chose them because they lie in our path?”

A small thrill stirred beneath my skin at her sharpness. Smart woman.

“In part,” I admitted, choosing my words with care. “Their taxes have fallen behind. I intend to discuss the quality of his fields.”

Her brow furrowed deeper, but she said nothing more. The truth was, Bac’s taxes had been revoked. I’d ordered him to pay in gold instead of crops after the third shipment of spoiled straw. His goods weren’t worth the trouble. His coin, however, would be.

The man was far from pleased.

We reached the city gates without ceremony. Garett returned, informing us that he’d sent a runner ahead to the estate.

The structure was impossible to miss. Dominating the skyline, the black tower rose at the city’s heart, its dark silhouette stark against the setting sun. Nienna gasped, shielding her eyes from the last, blinding rays peeking over the city walls.

“The Phares prefer to be in full view of their people,” I said as we threaded through the narrow streets.

Greaves edged his horse closer, and the guards ahead of us cleared a path.

“It looks like the Spire. ”

The sorrow in her voice caught my attention. I turned to find her eyes glossed with unshed tears, glittering in the golden light. She bit her lip, dropped her gaze, and swallowed hard. When she peeked up again, she offered a smile meant to reassure, but it twisted into a grimace.

“Your palace?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

I had seen paintings of the Spire—its grim, towering presence reaching the clouds, crowned by the dragon Nest. Compared to that, Phares’ tower was a mere imitation, a pale shadow of something greater.

“My home.”

Her words struck me like a blow. The longing in her voice ripped through me, exposing the weight of all she had endured—and all she still would.

It was a bitter reminder. Radaan was not her home. She belonged to Draconia. Her heart was with her dragons, not with me. Not with my people. What could golden fields and blossoming orchards offer to a woman raised amidst whirlstorms and the largest predators of the known world?

I saw the dark, oppressive estate as a looming, cold structure. She viewed it through soft, nostalgic eyes. Perhaps that would change once she met the nobles who resided within.

Bracing myself, I urged my stallion forward.

The city’s people were distant, their smiles veiled with reserve. They bowed low, acknowledging us regardless of rank. I had demanded the same recruits of Bac’phares as any district. They’d seen me in battle. I earned their respect, at least.

That, I realized, might be all I had earned.

We arrived at the estate without ceremony, entering the courtyard with no formal greeting.

Nienna surveyed the barren space, her eyes tracing the bare earth. No shrubs, no trees—just sparse, low grass, as though they feared nature itself might challenge their fearsome fortress.

“Were we expected?” she whispered, scanning the empty courtyard for any sign of staff—bustling servants, attentive butlers, anyone charged with offering a greeting.

Any other day, I wouldn’t care. The lack of welcome was nothing new, and I’d grown accustomed to it. But with Nienna? It wasn’t just an insult to me as king. It was a slight to her as princess.

The thought made my blood surge, a flash of rage itching at my skin. I wanted to throw open the doors, drag Bac’phares from his chambers, and demand he grovel at my feet.

“Leon,” I snapped, my voice low and cold. “Inform the Phares that their failure to offer a proper welcome to Princess Nienna has severely displeased their king. ”

The guard glanced between us, no doubt wondering why my anger seemed more on her behalf than my own. Without a word, he dismounted and sprinted toward the door.

I took a slow breath, steadying my pulse as he disappeared into the bowels of the tower. Dismounting, I braced myself against the saddle, shaking out my stiff legs. Long rides were comforting to my mind, but my body hated them. My spine popped as I stretched, trying to loosen the tightness in my joints.

When I trusted my feet to carry me, I turned toward Nienna. Her gaze was fixed downward, her mouth tight with discomfort.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she murmured, her lips barely moving.

I shifted, stifling a smirk, careful not to let Garett see. “My apologies. I should have made more stops.”

I pushed her too hard. Long rides were second nature to me, but Nienna, a proper lady, wasn’t accustomed to horses or their demands. It had been foolish to not consider her needs.

Not that I minded helping her down.

“I’ve got you.” My voice was low, just for her ears.

She relaxed a fraction, her breath hitching as she gripped the saddle and swung her leg over. Her knee buckled as her weight shifted, and she tumbled. I caught her with a grunt, steadying her until her feet found solid ground.

“Abyss beneath,” she hissed, her fingers clenched white around the stirrup.

“The numbness will fade soon.”

“Before the nobles arrive?”

“Probably.” I chuckled, my irritation at Bac for his negligence fading into a quiet relief. At least no one else had witnessed her stumble.

And yet, my hands still rested on her waist, unwilling to let go.

It would be so easy—so effortless—to pull her flush against me. Her unsteady form would melt into mine, soft curves pressing against my chest. I’d brush my lips along her neck, nipping at the tender skin, coaxing out those small moans that drove me mad.

“Pins and needles, but I think I can stand now,” she said.

I dropped my hands, cursing the treacherous thoughts that clouded my mind. One touch, and all my restraint vanished.

Greaves caught my eye, his expression hardening. He looked more disappointed in my lapse of judgment than in the Phares’ lack of courtesy.

Frustration simmered beneath my skin. I moved to the front of our group, my back stiff with tension. It wouldn’t take long to find someone who deserved my ire.

The massive doors creaked open, revealing a lavish entryway. A chandelier, larger than a wagon, hung overhead, its light scattering across the mirrors that dotted the walls. The grandness of the space made me feel smaller, more distant .

A pair of staff members followed the Phares into view. Both were draped in purple and gold, an elegance unmistakable on the woman, but Bac? The colors clashed against his bloated frame, making him appear even more vulgar. He had the audacity to roll his eyes at me, his smile condescending, while his wife pinched her non-existent lips, gaze narrowed on Nienna in a portrait of disdain.

They approached us and leaned forward a breath—their cheap imitation of a bow.

“King Kallias–” Bac began.

I silenced him with a glare. “A missive was sent a fortnight ago, informing you of our arrival.”

“Well, yes–”

“I did not give you leave to speak.” The courtyard stilled. Not even a bird dared to chirp. I lifted my chin, raising my voice. “You received the message. You knew of our visit. Yet you offer no welcome, no greeting for your king. You insult Radaan with your negligence.”

I extended my arm, and without hesitation, Nienna’s delicate hand settled against my elbow. She followed my lead with little effort.

“You’ve been honored to host Princess Nienna of Draconia,” I said. “The Dragon’s Heart. Your offense to her is unforgivable.”

Bac’s face drained of color with each word, while his wife flushed a deep crimson. Her eyes stretched wide, threatening to burst from their sockets, her outrage contorting her features. Despite being no older than her husband, she looked like an ancient crone cloaked in jewels and painted in thick cosmetics. In contrast, his bloated frame gave him a semblance of youth.

“You may pay obeisance.”

The command was flat, unyielding. Not a question. Not a suggestion. An order.

Bac hesitated, glancing at his wife for reassurance.

“Now.” My voice dropped to a growl, impatience breaking through my icy calm. I was King of Radaan, not her—he needed his affirmation from me.

He crumpled into a bow, bending as low as his girth allowed. His wife followed with a shallow curtsy, her eyes flicking up at Nienna with barely contained malice. The fury in her gaze made my pulse race, blood pounding in my ears.

“Your king is satisfied,” I said as they began to rise. “But the offense to Draconia still stands.” They hesitated, sinking lower. “Ask her forgiveness. And mercy.”

Was this too much for Nienna? Too sudden? She was only a princess, after all. Had she been taught how to respond when a noble was out of line?

Her hand remained steady on my arm, a quiet strength that reassured me more than any words could .

“We meant no ill will, Your Highness.” Bac’s voice was muffled from his bowed position, his cheeks now a curious shade of scarlet.

Still, his slight made me seethe. “I did not ask what you meant .”

“Forgive us, Your Highness.” Takal’s high-pitched, nasally tone quivered as she faced the ground, her limbs shaking with the effort of holding the curtsy.

She wasn’t accustomed to submitting to authority.

“Draconia is a land ruled by Dragon King Nereus.” Nienna slipped her hand from my arm, approaching the couple with power in her stature.

Either she concealed her numbness well, or she recovered faster than most.

“Were you to disrespect the royal family there,” she halted before Takal, bending low to meet her gaze, “you would be eaten by a dragon.”

A surge of pride swelled within, but I fought to keep my expression neutral. I was the king. I was impassive. She was just a princess—but gods, she acted like a queen.

“I hear your plea, and grant your forgiveness,” she continued, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. “Rise. We are hungry and weary from our travels.”

The Phares straightened, their eyes flickering between the princess—who tossed her golden hair over her shoulder—and me.

The Nienna I knew held my heart in ways I could never express, but Princess Nienna claimed my very soul.