Page 28 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Nienna

T he noblewoman’s voice carried through the room, invasive and unwelcome. “Late Queen Eldeiade would have appreciated the roast pig, would she not, Your Majesty?”

My patience frayed beneath her words—the fifth time the dead queen’s name intruded on the evening. Could Takal’phares speak of nothing else? Years had passed since Eldeiade’s death, yet her fixation clung like a shadow, teetering on obsession. A glance toward Kallias confirmed my growing irritation was shared. His jaw tightened, the only crack in his otherwise rigid expression, as stoic as the estate’s carved stone pillars.

Though I had never met Eldeiade, the king’s bitter recounting painted a vivid picture—one that Lady Phares would not care to hear.

“Yes.” He leaned back in his chair, his focus sharp and unwavering as he fixed Takal with a gaze that could cleave iron. He chewed with deliberate precision, his scrutiny impossible to miss.

The animosity between the king and the Phares was palpable. Their history lurked in the shadows of every pointed remark. I longed to ask him about it, but no opportunity would come. Not here. Not in this grand estate where privacy was a myth, and each move was scrutinized under the guise of propriety.

“Do you enjoy it, Princess?” Takal’s sharp eyes found me, her tone deceptively pleasant.

My spine straightened as I forced my features into a calm, unbothered mask. “It is delicious, thank you.” My voice was steady, but my focus lingered on her face, reading every flicker of expression like a map .

Her lips curved into a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Will you be following in her footsteps, then?”

“When the time comes,” I replied, “I will bear the mantle of Radaan.”

Kallias shifted, the movement subtle yet loaded. His silence pressed against me like a weight. It was improper to discuss a future reign while the current king still lived. The thought churned in my stomach. One day, I would ascend—but only when he was gone. The image of shouldering the mantle alongside Tallon turned the taste in my mouth to ash.

“Ah, so you’ll break tradition,” Bac’phares interjected, his smirk a dagger aimed at the king. “Queen Eldeiade moved away from it, after all.”

My gaze darted toward Kallias despite myself. Custom dictated that the mantle was borne by both ruler and mate—a shared symbol of power and responsibility. My studies made that clear. If Bac meant to rattle me, he would fail.

I wouldn’t shy away from my duty.

I sipped my wine, letting the moment stretch. Careful consideration, not ignorance, would carry me through this exchange. Yet unease coiled deep in my stomach. Kallias remained silent, and I couldn’t help but wonder why.

“I may not choose the same as the late queen,” I said.

Takal leaned back, a scoff escaping her lips like the hiss of a serpent. “So you’ll cast aside precedent? My, my, what changes you have in store for Radaan!” Her condescension was sharp enough to cut.

My jaw tightened. The wrong words had slipped past my guard.

“Tradition states both king and queen wear the mantle,” Kallias broke in. He tipped his wine glass back and drained it in one long pull. Irritation flickered across his face, vanishing as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the icy glare he aimed at Takal. “Radaan would be honored if Princess Nienna chooses to uphold that practice.”

Bac’phares chuckled, his tone dripping with mockery as he swirled his wine. “Curious, though. Why didn’t you press Eldeiade to wear it? Or perhaps you did, and she refused?”

My grip on the fork tightened, the cool metal digging into my palm. Kallias’ neck flushed, a subtle betrayal of the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. His face remained unreadable, but his eyes burned with barely contained fury. The jab was a calculated blow, one aimed to wound.

If he admitted he hadn’t pushed Eldeiade, they’d question his devotion to tradition. If he confessed she defied him, it would tarnish his authority. The man had him cornered.

“Be careful dredging up the past, Bac’phares,” Kallias said, his tone a blade honed to perfection. “Some things are better left in shadow.” He rose from his seat, adjusting his tunic with deliberate ease. “Now, come. We have matters of tax to discuss.”

The smirk melted from the man’s face. With a grunt, he shoved back his chair and trudged after Kallias and Greaves as they exited the dining room.

The door clicked shut, and the air shifted. Takal’s gaze turned toward me, fierce and ruthless, her focus a hunter’s fix on cornered prey.

Were I a dragon, my hackles would have risen in warning. Instead, I straightened my back, meeting her challenge with a cool smile. My lips curved in defiance, and I lifted a brow. Let her try.

“Tallon didn’t know what he was getting into with you, did he?” Her words were blunt, an arrow fired without pretense.

Blunt, I could handle.

“I’m not sure what he expected,” I said, setting my glass down with deliberate care. “But I am Radaan’s future.”

Her sneer deepened, contempt curling her lip as she leaned across the table. “Your choice of words amuses me, Princess. Tonight, we’ve spoken of the late queen, of her son, and yet you’ve barely uttered his name. Betrothed as you are, with a wedding mere months away, one might think you’d be eager to speak of him.”

I dabbed my lips with the napkin, letting the moment stretch. Each second tightened tension’s cord. “May I be honest, Takal?”

A wicked gleam flared in her dark eyes. “Elohios would demand it.”

“It’s none of your blasted business.”

Her laughter erupted like a thunderclap, echoing through the chamber as she threw her head back and slammed into her chair. The sound clawed at my nerves, vile and grating. I held her gaze, forcing patience to temper the heat simmering beneath my skin.

Along the wall, the two servants stood motionless, their blank faces betraying neither surprise nor discomfort. This wasn’t the first time they’d seen such insolence.

“Ah, I do love a blunt woman,” she said, wiping at her eyes as her laughter subsided. Then, rising without permission, she smoothed her skirts with a deliberate flourish.

My fists tightened beneath the table. Princess or not, she reveled in her belief that she stood above me.

“I will see you to your rooms now,” she said, her smile as bright and false as a polished coin. She stepped around the chair, already dismissing me.

“I am not finished.”

Her steps halted. She turned, her mirth draining like wine spilled on stone. “You’re done. ”

The words struck like a slap, igniting fire in my veins. “You dare tell me I’m done?”

Her lip curled in disdain. “The king of Radaan is not here, and these are my people.” She gestured toward the servants, her arrogance suffocating. “I am High Lady of this house, and you’ll find you have little power here, Princess . Now. To your rooms.”

“You forget your place.” Heat flushed my cheeks, but I refused to waver. “You are a noble, nothing more. An insect beneath the might of a dragon. I am Draconis. Have you forgotten our magic?”

A bluff, but her pale face betrayed her doubt.

“A single word.” I let the threat drip like poison. “Just one, and your fields will wither. No wheat, no barley, not even grass for your sheep.”

Her tone faltered. “You are loyal to Radaan–”

“I am bound to Radaan, but my loyalty is mine alone.” With my head tilted, I steeled my expression into iron. “I am a dragon, and you are an ant. Remember your place.”

Deliberation marked every movement as I raised a piece of pork to my mouth. The sharp tang of spice and rich fat coated my tongue as I chewed, my gaze fixed on her rigid form. Fury radiated off her in waves. Her knuckles whitened against the back of her chair, gripping it as though it might anchor her. She neither sat nor fled, unwilling to test the unspoken threats that lingered.

She wouldn’t dare.

I took my time eating, dragging the meal out long past my hunger. Each bite was a reminder of her place, a punishment for her insolence. The silence in the room grew thick and oppressive, broken only by the faint clink of my utensils. My thoughts strayed to Kallias and how he endured similar affronts. Bac’phares’ smugness earlier suggested his punishments had been far less subtle.

At last, I wiped my hands on the linen napkin and rose, the chair scraping against the floor. “I will retire now. Please, show me to my rooms.”

Her jaw tightened, but she nodded, turning without a word.

The trek through the tower stretched in brutal silence. Shadows pooled in the narrow halls, the black stone walls blending with the darkness outside. The air carried the stale chill of a dungeon, and I longed for a window, for even a glimpse of the stars or the cooling brush of the night’s breeze. Asking about balconies, though, would betray any semblance of authority I claimed to hold.

Lanterns flickered, illuminating little before it seemed to dissolve into the gloom. The corridors, devoid of windows, swallowed sound and light alike. Takal moved through them as if born to the shadows, her stride long and brisk. She walked, head high, every step deliberate. Though taller than me by a margin, her imposing posture made the difference feel greater .

I hurried to match her pace, trying to memorize turns and landmarks in the labyrinthine estate. No staff appeared to offer guidance. No guards patrolled the halls. The emptiness unsettled me, each step echoing against the walls, amplifying the eerie quiet. Perhaps privacy was a virtue in this place—or a shield for something darker.

At a bend in the corridor, Garett came into view, stationed near a heavy door. Across the hall, Leon lingered by another. My chest tightened. Could that be where Kallias would stay? The thought grounded me for a fleeting moment—so close, yet just out of reach.

Takal’s sudden turn snapped me from my thoughts. Her sharp eyes pinned me as a knowing smile curled her lips. She gestured me ahead. “Your room, Princess.”

I spared her no gratitude. My attention shifted to Garett, who paused for a moment before pushing the entrance open.

Once inside, despair hit like a battering ram. My feet moved of their own accord, bringing me deeper into the space as the door thudded shut. The chamber swallowed me in its stillness. My gaze darted to the dim lanterns casting muted light across the stone walls. It wasn’t a guest suite. It was a cell dressed as one.

A cramped sitting area opened into a modest bedchamber. There were no grand windows, no dressing room. My wardrobe, shipped ahead of our journey, should have been here. Yet no sign of it greeted me. Unease twisted my stomach.

My feet dragged me to the bed, exhaustion like a heavy cloak pulling me into its embrace. Edith would have brought order to this chaos, but I’d insisted she stay behind. The journey would have been too taxing on her, though part of me admitted I didn’t want her prying eyes fixed on Kallias and me.

Fyrn had been my other option, but illness kept her from traveling. I hated the relief that realization brought. Without either of them, I felt stripped bare, vulnerable in this hostile estate. The disdain from the Phares family during dinner rattled me more than I cared to admit. Their venomous remarks still lingered, as did the burden of my deceit—lies about magic I didn’t wield, about power I did not hold.

I let myself fall against the mattress, grateful at least for the feel of feathers beneath me instead of straw. My body ached from hours of riding; muscles in my thighs throbbed, and my lower back pulsed with soreness. When I rolled onto my stomach, I cradled my head in my arms, debating whether I could endure another day on horseback or if I’d risk humiliation by requesting a carriage.

The Sol family would host us next. Their reputation at court painted them as kind, but estates often revealed truer natures. If they mirrored the Phares in cruelty, the week ahead would stretch unbearably long .

My thoughts spiraled, each worry tangling in knots. Pressing my palms into my eyes, I groaned at the sheer weight of decisions yet to be made.

A knock shattered my restless haze. I bolted upright, heart lurching, muscles screaming in protest. Another set of heavy pounding came before I could stand.

Who would dare bang on my door so insolently?

I scrambled to it, smoothing the wrinkles from my dress as I went. When I pulled it open, I froze.

Kallias stood before me, dark brows slashed low over eyes the color of storm-tossed seas. The muscle in his jaw jumped with tension, his lips compressed into a razor-thin line. His gaze flicked down to my boots, then back to my face.

My pulse hammered. Whatever brought him here, it wasn’t good.

“Come with me.”

Kallias spun on his heel, his cloak flaring in an arc behind him. I cast a quick glance at Greaves, searching for a clue to the king’s temper—or if his ire rested on me. The man gave only a curt nod, offering no explanation. I swallowed a lump of unease, then hurried after the king of Radaan.

The echo of boots accompanied us as Garett and Leon followed behind. Kallias led with a certainty that spoke of intimate familiarity with the tower, ascending staircases and rounding corners without hesitation. I lifted the hem of my dress, struggling to match his pace, the fabric whispering against my legs. The burn in my calves stung, but I swallowed any plea for him to slow. I fought the urge to ask what had riled him so much that he’d forgotten to walk beside me, leaving me to trail him like a lower noble.

But I was less than him.

We were equals only behind closed doors.

Another staircase loomed, and my breath came in shallow bursts by the time we emerged onto a bustling floor. Servants moved in streams, converging in chaos, arms laden with blankets, lanterns, and buckets. They darted through the halls with shallow bows, too frantic to pause for the king’s presence.

Kallias waded into the torrent without breaking stride, scattering workers like startled birds. I lingered for half a heartbeat, catching the startled look of a young maid who nearly collided with him. Her wide eyes found mine, and I offered a fleeting smile before plunging after him.

The new chambers glowed with warmth, walls painted in ivory and every sconce ablaze with light. Servants bustled in and out, arranging furniture, stacking firewood, and filling basins with steaming water. These rooms spoke of royalty, a stark difference from the cell I had been shown earlier.

Cool night air whipped into me as we rounded another corner, tugging strands of hair loose and chilling my skin. Kallias slowed his pace, but I couldn’t stop. As a moth to the flame, my feet carried me to the sad excuse of a balcony—drawn by some unseen force.

Beyond the sturdy railing, Phares sprawled like a constellation brought to earth, its lights winking as if sharing a secret. My breath caught at the sight, and the wind billowed my skirts, teasing my sleeves.

The height sent a thrill through me, and I twisted, trying to glimpse the peak above. The gale seemed alive, plucking at my hair and pressing against my arms as if urging me closer to the edge. It reminded me of the Nest, high atop the Spire, where clouds would shroud the island, making the cities below feel as distant as the stars. The wind here had the same playful spirit, as familiar as an old friend, though it lacked the echo of dragon roars.

“You should have never been placed in that room.” Kallias’ tone was edged with simmering anger. A heavy cloak settled along my shoulders, carrying his scent—spiced cedar with an undercurrent of something sharper.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” I said, pulling the warm fabric tighter.

The last of the staff retreated, leaving Greaves leaning against the far wall. He caught my eye and the corner of his mouth lifted a fraction in response to my grin.

“The Phares have always been difficult, but this?” Kallias gestured toward the room behind. “This is an insult to Radaan itself. An entire floor is ours, and they try to quarter us among minor nobles.”

“Have they done this before?” I asked, leaning forward over the railing. The city below blurred as the wind swept past my face, carrying me back to memories of flying on Argos.

“They’ve disrespected me, but you–”

I laughed, the sound bursting free before he could finish. Turning to him, I pressed a chilled hand to his warmer one. His scowl faltered, the lines softening as I smiled up at him. Rage was written all over his face and I tried to quell it in our stolen moment.

“I can handle myself. Takal might curse me if the crops fail next year, but don’t uproot a district for my sake.” The words were light, but warmth curled in my chest at his indignation on my behalf.

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to my lips. “You threatened her?”

“I reminded Takal of her place.”

“And with my tripling of their taxes, I’m sure they’ll rest peacefully tonight,” he said, a wry note creeping into his voice.

The tension eased from his shoulders as the storm clouds in his eyes cleared. His gaze lingered on my face, his lips curving at my grin. In this moment, the titles that defined us dissolved, leaving only him and me beneath the open sky.

“You belong up here,” Kallias murmured .

“This is nothing compared to the Spire.” I stretched out my arm, letting the wind push and pull against my palm. The gusts streamed through my spread fingers like threads of silk, then surged upward as I cupped my hand. “And riding a dragon is far worse. If they dive or drop their head, you’d better be strapped in.”

“You’ve flown on the beasts, then?”

“Since I was a babe.” I gripped the railing, memories pressing down on me like an unseen weight. “My father took me up on Argos as soon as the queen released me. I wasn’t even a year old.”

“Your mother had to release you?” He chuckled, arching a brow.

“No, the queen dragon—Kalepsi.” A mischievous smile tugged at my lips. “Didn’t you know I was raised among dragons, dear Kallias?”

“Forgive my ignorance, precious Nienna,” he drawled, a flicker of humor dancing in his eyes. “I did not learn every secret of your childhood.”

I laughed, throwing my head back. The wind caught my hair, tossing it into a wild spiral. His flinch, subtle but there, only made the moment sweeter.

“I was born in the Nest at the Spire’s peak. My mother risked everything. The scent of blood can drive dragons into a frenzy, but Kalepsi claimed me as her own. It’s the highest honor in Draconia, to be chosen without being a rider.”

The words stung, though I hid it. Dragons choose their riders, it cannot be forced. And despite Kalepsi’s blessing, none chose me.

“When the bulls were drawn to the blood, Kalepsi drove them out herself,” I continued, filling the silence. “For months, she refused to let my mother take me away. It’s a dangerous thing, exposing a newborn to the elements, but the reward was worth the risk.”

“Why would Queen Nyxaria take such a chance?” His tone, low and sharp, betrayed his disapproval.

“To be blessed by dragons is to stand above all others,” I said, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Draconis aren’t religious, like Radaanians. Among us, a dragon’s blessing is sacred. For every daughter of Draconia, the risk is part of the legacy. Had I been a better Vessel, my power would rival even my father’s.”

Greaves lingered near the doorway, his attention fixed on a painting, feigning disinterest. I caught the faint curve of his lips as if he followed our words, nonetheless.

“It wasn’t just for me,” I continued. “Kalepsi’s mark is protection. No one can harm what the dragons claim.”

“They are fearsome creatures,” Kallias admitted, his voice thoughtful. “Prince Ronan’s black mount alone would strike fear in any army.”

“There’s a reason no kingdom has dared wage war on Draconia,” I replied. “Kings have tried to claim the Wild Shores, to tame the dragons, but their will is not ours to command. No force rivals their might.”

Kallias leaned a hip against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. The faint lines on his face deepened as he stared into the sky, his expression unreadable.

I bit the inside of my cheek. How soon would my rooms be ready?

“When do you believe King Nereus might answer your request for dragons?” he asked after a moment.

“The whirlstorms are unpredictable this season,” I said, sighing. “He’ll send them when the skies clear. I’ve requested five. Once they fly, they won’t stop.”

His focus remained on the stars, his profile cast in silver by the moonlight, though a shadow of worry darkened his features.

I touched his arm, drawing his gaze to me. “Radaan will have my dragons. They’ll guard your mountain passes. Nothing shall cross without your command.”

His brows drew together, and a muscle in his jaw tightened. The moon caught the salt and pepper stubble on his face, highlighting the faint tremor in his mouth as if he warred with words he didn’t dare speak.

“Radaan will have your dragons,” he said at last, his voice strained. “But at the cost of your marriage.”

The wind whipped around us, sharp and cold. I pulled his cloak tighter, the chill sinking deeper than my skin.

“Kallias–”

The door swung open, breaking the moment. Greaves moved with practiced precision, a knife flashing in his hand before the intruder even spoke.

“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty,” the servant stammered, his wide eyes darting between us. “The floor is ready.”

Kallias straightened, the warmth in his expression gone. “Send a maid to Princess Nienna’s chamber,” he ordered, his tone hard. “I need no assistance.”

And just like that, we reverted to the roles of king and princess. I lifted my chin and slid into my mask once more, ignoring the way the hole in my heart tore a little wider.