Page 29 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Nienna

I rose before first light. The servant assigned to me worked by lantern glow, guiding me through washing and dressing with the detached efficiency of someone performing a chore. Her indifference contrasted with Edith’s warm touch—the careful braids, the subtle gestures meant to make me feel beautiful. This woman saw me as nothing more than a duty.

I donned the same style as the day before: split skirts for riding astride. Tall boots gripped my calves, and I bit back a wince as I tugged on the dark brown breeches. The soreness from hours in the saddle throbbed in protest, but I told myself my backside could handle one more day. The white horse was steady and composed—a stark difference from the wild-tempered beast Tallon had insisted I ride.

Breakfast passed in tense silence. A messenger interrupted with news of an emergency that demanded the Phares’ attention, excusing their absence. Kallias barely acknowledged the boy, too focused on the sharp strokes of his pen as he composed a letter. I nibbled on a few bites of egg and fruit, watching as he sealed the missive with the heavy gold signet ring on his finger.

“This goes to Advisor Fallione in Reem,” he ordered. His glare promised dire consequences if the letter went astray.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The boy bowed and darted away down the hall, his footsteps fading into the distance.

Kallias exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening as he stared down at his untouched plate. I itched to know what the missive contained. Hiding my grin behind another bite of egg, I wagered it carried a biting reprimand for the missing Phares.

We departed soon after. Kallias helped me into the saddle, his touch firm but fleeting. He squeezed my calf, and butterflies swarmed low in my belly. Then he swung into his own saddle with an ease that bordered on arrogance.

The way his trousers stretched over his thick thighs as he mounted left my throat dry. Shifting in my seat did little to chase away the heat blooming in my chest. Sunlight kissed his skin, tracing the sharp lines of his features. He glanced back and caught me looking. His piercing blue eyes flicked down, snagging on my exposed leg before rising to meet my gaze again.

Dragonfire—but the want in those eyes! They quickly shuttered as he turned away from me. Without a word, he turned and set the pace.

Our guards, Leon and Garett, rode ahead, with Greaves trailing close behind. As we moved through Phares, its beauty struck me—a city rich with gilded facades and opulent displays. Yet beneath the shimmer lay cracks. Poverty lingered at the edges, subtle but undeniable. Tattered garments hung on children darting through the crowds. Their wide eyes followed us with a hunger that went beyond food.

The townsfolk bowed as we passed, offering gestures of respect, but their faces lacked warmth. In Reem, the people brimmed with joy. Here, they seemed resigned. Content, perhaps, but far from pleased. Hollow cheeks and watchful stares told a story I couldn’t yet decipher.

I wondered if the scars of war deepened as we approached the mountains. Would the desolation grow, or was this quiet desperation unique to Phares?

Once we cleared the city, Kallias guided his horse to fall in beside mine.

“Should I expect the same warm greeting at Sol” I asked.

“Not at all.” He sighed, the motion rolling through his shoulders. “Claydon is an old friend. He served on the front as a healer and holds a great deal more respect for people.”

Relief eased the tension in my back, and I sank a little deeper into the saddle. “He seemed kind enough when we spoke at the palace.”

“The Sols are… enthusiastic,” he admitted, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. “Sometimes overly familiar, but always generous in their kindness. Be warned, though—you’ll hear plenty about his goats.”

I groaned, drawing a laugh from him. “He was rather passionate about them.”

“They’re a peculiar breed, I’ll admit. I’m certain he’ll insist on showing them off.”

“I can hardly wait.” My tone dripped with mock enthusiasm, making it clear the creatures hadn’t won me over .

His chuckle deepened. “Didn’t you once suggest feeding them to your dragons when they arrive? Let’s hope that little rumor hasn’t reached his ears.”

Heat crept up my neck as the memory resurfaced. It had been my first council meeting, and Fyrn had warned me afterward that her father wouldn’t find my remark amusing. “I’ll offer my sincerest apologies, should the need arise.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, and we rode on in companionable silence. The mountains loomed ahead, their jagged peaks carving sharp lines into the horizon. Natural fortresses stood as both a border and a barrier—low enough for a dragon to soar over, yet far too treacherous for an army to climb. I imagined the battles fought in their shadow, wars funneled into narrow passes where the terrain itself decided the victor.

We bypassed towns and cities. I couldn’t tell if Kallias wanted to save time or craved privacy. This journey had begun as a tour with Egath and Tallon, meant to acquaint me with the mountains, but illness and obligations had turned it into something else entirely. A secret part of me was glad. Without Tallon’s barbs or Egath’s brooding presence, the quiet felt easier. Even Fyrn’s absence was a relief. She may have distracted me from my delusional attractions, but with her gone, I could unwind. Too many unspoken truths hung between us.

Perhaps that was it—there were no pretenses left with Kallias. We carried enough shared secrets to ruin each other if we chose.

As we neared the mountains, the midday sun revealed a city carved into the stone. I slackened the reins, letting my horse find its own way, my attention fixed on the sight. It shimmered with life despite its rugged construction, its walls blending into the rock. Yet Kallias led us around it, steering toward steep trails that hugged the mountainside.

When the path narrowed to a single line, he gestured for my horse to move ahead. I twisted in my saddle, arching a brow at him. “How exactly did you plan to get a carriage up here?”

His eyes snapped up from my backside and I smothered my surprise, smirking. He blinked, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “We’d have taken the longer route, but even then… it would’ve been an ordeal.”

His excuse earned a hum from me, though I swallowed the temptation to call him out on just where his gaze had lingered. Instead, I forced myself to focus on keeping my balance as my horse scrambled upward, muscles straining beneath me with each lurching step.

As we climbed higher, my heart was pounding. Sweat trickled down my temples, and my hands throbbed from clutching the saddle. Leon’s mount slipped once, skittering on loose gravel, while Greaves’ gelding stumbled over an uneven patch, recovering with an unnerving jerk .

The trail stretched upward still, daunting and unrelenting. I exhaled a shaky breath, gripping the reins with damp fingers, and steeled myself for the climb ahead.

We reached a plateau, and my attention caught on the line of soldiers barring the way. Their formation spread from one rocky edge to the other, immovable as the mountain itself. Beyond them, the path disappeared into a cavernous mouth hewn from stone, jagged and foreboding.

The sight of the cave sent a chill down my spine— its interior darker than the depths of any ocean. I halted my horse, gripping the reins as my heart thudded against my ribs. The path ahead vanished into shadow, a void so absolute it felt alive.

There wasn’t a speck of light.

Not a glimmer.

“Onward, Nienna,” Kallias commanded, his voice low but resolute as he rode past me without hesitation.

My hands shook as I nudged my horse along. The line of soldiers stood in green and gold, their stoic faces set and alert. Garett and Leon dismounted, leading their mounts aside as a man stepped forward, breaking ranks.

“You’ve been expected, Your Majesty,” he announced, his tone brisk but respectful. Another slipped into the cave, returning moments later with a flickering lantern.

“Claydon’sol awaits your arrival,” the first soldier continued.

Kallias leaned forward in his saddle. “I’m pleased to hear it. The mountain—has it been quiet?” he asked.

“No skirmishes in our district, Your Majesty,” the man replied, his words laced with unspoken tension.

The absence of conflict here implied unrest elsewhere.

“And the mines?”

“Blessed by Dagden himself,” he said with a reverent nod. “They’re producing enough ore to supply the kingdom.”

“Good. That ore will be used for tools, not swords,” Kallias’ tone lightened, and he straightened as they passed the lantern to Greaves.

One light? For that abyssal blackness? The small flame sputtered against the oppressive dark, its reach barely extending a few paces.

The soldier bowed before stepping into formation. “Thanks to your wisdom, Blessed King!”

Greaves rode ahead, and Kallias waited until I drew even with him.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, trying to steady myself. I was raised among dragons. I didn’t fear the dark .

The peak of the mountain loomed high above us, a shadow against the sunlit sky. My throat tightened. It wasn’t the darkness I dreaded, but the weight of stone overhead—a tomb carved from earth.

I knew the wind and sea. Sun and sand. A shiver ran through me at the thought of riding through that tunnel.

I nudged my heels into my horse’s sides, forcing him onward. His ears flicked, but he stepped into the cavern without hesitation. Hooves clattered, the sound reverberating through the still air. The ceiling soared above, unseen but vast. Shadows pressed in like a suffocating mist, thick and impenetrable.

My chest tightened as the light of the plateau faded behind us, shrinking to a distant pinprick. The horse remained steady, his confidence at odds with the crawling dread that crept along my skin. I twisted to glance over my shoulder, yearning for the open sky.

Kallias’ stallion drew alongside mine, but my attention fixed on the lantern swaying ahead, its feeble glow a lifeline in the smothering black. He seemed unshaken, though my breaths grew shallow and ragged, no matter how hard I tried to suppress them. Panic coiled in my chest like a serpent, tightening its grip with every passing second.

How far did this tunnel go? How much longer until we emerged? Would the ceiling hold, or was it doomed to crumble without warning? What if the mountain caved in under its own weight? Even worse, what if the earth itself shifted, sealing us in?

The thoughts struck me like a blow: we would die here. Buried. Forgotten.

My limbs trembled, and I clenched my muscles, fighting to still the shaking. My horse huffed, its bit jangling as it tossed its head in irritation.

“Nienna?” Kallias’ voice cut through the oppressive silence, his tone calm but edged with concern. “What’s wrong?”

My teeth sank into my cheek, the sharp tang of blood searing my tongue. The pain grounded me, if only for a moment. Greaves angled the lantern toward me, casting Kallias’ face in a dim, flickering glow.

“Gods, are you well?” he asked. His brows drew together as he seized my reins, slowing my horse.

“Don’t stop.” My voice broke as the words tumbled out, strangled by the iron grip of dread coiled around my throat. “Please, just keep going.”

His stallion sidestepped, brushing close. The press of his leg against mine sent an anchor of warmth through the storm of fear.

“Is it the dark?” he asked.

“No.” The denial came fast, too raw. “Please—we need to move.” Every heartbeat spent in here stretched my terror thin, threatening to snap it into full-blown panic.

“It’s the mountain,” Greaves muttered .

Kallias moved without hesitation. His hands gripped my waist, firm but careful. Before I could protest, he lifted me.

I gasped, clutching at his shoulders. “What are you doing?” I hissed, though I made no effort to resist.

My legs shifted, accommodating his pull, and I found myself seated in front of him on his stallion. The saddle, built for one, forced me flush against him. No space to retreat.

I leaned forward, trying to create distance, but the attempt was futile. His thighs bracketed mine, solid and immovable.

His breath brushed along the nape of my neck as he adjusted his seat, pulling me against him. “Be still,” he murmured.

Heat flooded my face as I straightened, every nerve heightened by the unnerving closeness.

Greaves took my horse’s reins with a glance, his expression flat but knowing as he led us forward once more.

Shame warred with the warmth spreading through me. This was wrong. All of it. The need curling in my stomach, the burn of desire ignited by his touch, the way my body reacted to his presence—it defied reason.

And yet, I didn’t lean away.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble near my ear, each word brushing my skin like a spark.

But how could I? How I fit between his legs, molded against his chest, felt so… right . His strength steadied me even as my mind whispered how wrong it all was. Somehow, it was wickedly, achingly perfect.

“What if someone sees?” I whispered.

The darkness was absolute, thick as velvet, but the idea set my nerves on edge. My ears strained for sounds beyond the rhythmic clatter of hooves against stone.

“Claydon would understand. Anyone else?” His chuckle rolled through his chest, a deep vibration that tangled with the erratic pulse hammering in my veins. “I’m the king, Nienna. Have you forgotten?”

The corner of my mouth twitched, but when I glanced up, the oppressive ceiling loomed, heavy and unforgiving. How far would it have to fall to crush us? The question dissolved as his lips brushed my neck, soft and searing all at once. A shiver broke over me, and my gaze darted ahead to Greaves’ broad back.

He knew. He had to. But the thought of him turning, seeing—why did that send a thrill through me?

“Don’t think about it,” Kallias murmured, his breath warm against my ear.

“There’s an entire mountain above us, and you tell me not to think about it?” My voice sharpened, brittle with unease. “I was raised in the sky, dear King . Do not– ”

The sharp nip of his teeth silenced me, a gasp spilling from my lips. He guided the reins while his free hand settled on my thigh, firm and warm. Heat radiated from his palm, burning through the thin barrier of my leggings.

And gods, how I wanted his touch to wander.

My heart thundered, each beat echoing through me as his presence consumed all corners of my awareness. The steady weight of him against my back made it impossible to think, every nerve alive to the closeness, the tension coiling between us.

Greaves rode just ahead, his figure unwavering. The tunnel stretched on, its length unknown, its shadows swallowing any sense of time. What we were doing was already reckless. To give in to more would be ruinous.

Still, the ride passed in a haze. The scent of cinnamon curled in the air, wrapping around me as I leaned back against his solid chest. His heartbeat thudded slow and even against me, grounding me as if I were tethered to him alone.

His hand flexed, fingers tightening against my thigh in a fleeting squeeze. My breath hitched, eyes darting to the faint gray smear that emerged ahead—the stairwell.

Relief warred with reluctance as he murmured, “The stairs are near. Can you manage on your horse?”

I tipped my head, a subtle smirk breaking free. “What happened to ‘I’m the king’?”

He grunted, pulling me against him. His arm banded around me, his thumb brushing the edge of my ribs, so close it drew heat to my cheeks. “Do you want to test that theory?”

Yes. A thousand times, yes . My pulse betrayed me, pounding an answer I couldn’t speak aloud.

Instead, I forced out, “I can ride. If you promise the mountain won’t fall.”

His laughter was soft, but his words carried a steady weight. “A promise? No. But this tunnel has served the Sols for a thousand years. If it’s meant to collapse, it won’t be today.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Greaves?”

The guard halted, his dark eyes flicking to mine with an unspoken question etched into the lift of his brow.

“I can ride now,” I said.

He scoffed, his smile teasing at the corners of his lips as he led the white horse toward us. With an easy grace, he held the beast steady while Kallias hoisted me into the saddle. The gesture seemed childish, being lifted like a doll, but I couldn’t help marveling at his strength—earned not from youthful exertion but from years of seasoned endurance.

“Thank you,” I murmured as he passed me the reins. “Greaves? ”

“Hmm?” A low hum answered as the man resumed his place at the lead.

“Can I trust you?” The question gnawed at me, an itch I couldn’t ignore.

The king trusted him, but I didn’t know the full history they shared. Had they stood shoulder to shoulder in battle? How recent was he posted at his station? And who chose him—Kallias, Darius, or someone else? Who did he answer to?

He held the secret that could bring down Radaan and Draconia—and I was blindly trusting him.

Greaves met my gaze, his dark eyes steady and unflinching. Something in his expression turned my palms clammy.

“Princess Nienna,” he said, his voice hoarse, “you can trust me with your life.” His chin lifted toward Kallias. “And his. My loyalty belongs to him.” Without waiting for a reply, he urged his horse ahead, tossing a parting jab over his shoulder. “And I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate my commentary on the library.”

My jaw went slack with disbelief. The king grinned, rubbing his neck with a sheepish shrug. Clearly the two were closer than I thought.

The pale gray glow ahead grew brighter, stirring the air with anticipation. My pulse quickened as the hazy light resolved into muddled sunlight.

When Greaves veered toward the wall, Kallias nudged his leg against mine, his voice low and knowing. “Watch.”

He pulled a rope embedded in the stone, and a metallic clang reverberated above. I snapped my head upward, squinting as shards of sunlight pierced the darkness. Mirrors descended in a measured sequence. Each new reflection amplified the light until it bathed the cavern floor in brilliance.

A ramp emerged from the shadows, a spiraling path climbing the immense shaft. Dust drifted in sparkling wisps, catching the newfound glow. My gaze snagged on the carvings that adorned the walls—intricate battle scenes etched in stone, hidden until now. I laughed, unable to mask my wonder.

“Welcome to the Manor in the Mountain, Princess,” Kallias murmured.

He guided me toward the incline, and my fingers brushed the carvings. They felt smooth, polished from care rather than time’s wear. The engravings stretched upward, a story spiraling as far as my eyes could follow.

“It tells the history of our gods and the rise of House Sol,” he explained, his words filled with quiet pride. “A lengthy tale, but if you’re curious, we can return later.”

“I’d like that,” I said, marveling at the details. My attention shifted to the dim shapes cast by our figures. “Tell me of Elohios.”

“Why him?”

The cut on my cheek stung as I ran my tongue along it. “I want to understand the god Radaan’s king serves.”

“Tallon hasn’t sworn allegiance to any. ”

“I didn’t say Radaan’s future king,” I countered, my tone pointed.

Silence fell, the rhythmic clatter of hooves filling the void. A quick glance revealed Kallias, deep in thought, one brow furrowed while a ghost of a grin lingered.

He was a devout man, as were his people. Curiosity stirred, tugging at me to learn more about the god he served—and how I might earn that deity’s favor.

A tiny voice in my mind said it was only because I wanted to make Kallias smile… and it wasn’t wrong.

“Elohios has no birth, no origin,” Kallias began. “He has always been. The Father, alongside Veridis, the Mother. From truth and life, all things came to be. It’s tradition for Radaan’s king to seek his blessing before his reign begins.”

“Did you claim him before your coronation?” My gaze wandered, tracing the intricate carvings of battles and changing seasons that stretched along the wall.

“I did,” he said. “I was seventeen when I pledged myself to Elohios.”

“And when you ascended the throne, did he choose you?”

“Through his priests, he gave his blessing. They are his voice.”

“You had no rivals?”

“None.” His laugh came low and brief. “I was the only heir.”

“There weren’t many options, then,” I teased, earning a slight grin.

“True, but the choice didn’t matter. I serve Elohios with all I am. He demands truth from my tongue and justice from my sword.”

“And Veridis? Where does she fit?” I tilted my head, frustration stirring as our horses’ strides carried us past details I wished to study closer.

“She is the chaos to his order,” he explained. “She creates life, and Elohios protects it. Without her, there would be no citizens to serve, no lives to honor with truth. She is the lifeblood of my people.”

A faint smirk curled my lips. “Once, I saw a painting in the palace—The Great Hunt. A mammoth, I think.”

“It’s the king’s duty to slay them, to protect his realm.” His tone shifted, softer, as though the memory brushed against something distant. “It depicts King Galivard the Second. It hangs in the southern halls.”

“There was someone with him.”

Greaves coughed behind us, or perhaps it was a choke.

“After the slaying?” I pressed, casting him a sly glance.

His jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared as he stared straight ahead. “The hunt belongs to the king,” he said, voice strained. “What comes after is the queen’s charge. Veridis blesses her by opening her womb, ensuring life flourishes after death. It is balance.”

“They seemed very balanced.” My tone carried a teasing edge, but it faded when Kallias turned to me, pain stark in his gaze .

“Nienna.” He spoke my name like a plea. “It’s important. The king takes life, yes—but the queen cleanses him of death, reminding him of the lives he safeguarded with the sacrifice. She must bring life into the world. That’s her duty.”

I faltered, the weight of his words settling over me. Fyrn had mentioned Eldeiade never fulfilled her role, abandoning the rituals for reasons unknown.

The pain etched into Kallias’ face told me it had cut him deep. Not just the act of the hunt, but her refusal to share in his belief, in his need for balance. It seemed such a simple thing—to wash away blood and share intimacy—but to him, it was sacred. And she had denied him.

The realization struck like a blow. How much destruction had he endured? Years of war with Vellos, leaving behind a trail of bodies. Hundreds, maybe thousands. Yet here he was, inquiring about crops, discussing mines, admiring gardens. He cherished life with the same hands that wielded devastation.

My chest ached for him, for the man who bore that burden in silence.

“Death is necessary, but life? Life must be treasured, Nienna.”

Words hovered on the tip of my tongue. Kallias wasn’t only violence and destruction. He guarded Radaan, kept her safe, gave her another chance at peace. Without him, could she have survived the war? Would she have endured?

I glanced away, swallowing unspoken thoughts. No words could ease his pain. I couldn’t reach for him or soothe the weight he carried, no matter how I wished I could.

Instead, I focused on the engravings. Scenes of battle became sparse, yielding to stretches of farming and mining. The shift felt intentional, a quiet celebration of life’s smaller victories. I traced a carving of a babe cradled in a woodland home, marveling at the artist’s skill. Did they live still, or had their hands carved other wonders in this manor long before?

The staircase spiraled upward until we reached the summit. At its end, a pair of immense doors loomed, adorned with twisting vine carvings that seemed to pulse with life. Sunlight spilled through narrow windows, catching the mirrors and scattering its warmth down the cold, shadowed corridor.

Two guards snapped to attention as Kallias dismounted. He turned to help me down, his touch steady at my waist. I hid a smile as my feet touched the stone floor.

“Remember, Nienna,” he said, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. “You’re safe here.”

I nodded, his words sinking into my chest like an anchor in calm waters. Safe or not, the blade strapped to my thigh would remain within reach. Safety didn’t mean letting my guard slip .

With my hand on his arm, we approached the entrance. Greaves trailed behind, silent and watchful. The guards turned in unison, hauling the great doors open.

The sight beyond stopped me in my tracks.

Claydon, hair a wild puff of white, stood braiding his wife’s silken gray locks with meticulous care. His nimble fingers worked, though the effort pulled a grumble or two from him.

“King Kallias! Princess Nienna!” he called, his voice warm with familiarity. “I do beg your pardon, but this has been a great undertaking, I beg just one more moment!”

Behind them stretched an immense receiving hall. Vibrant tapestries of greens, pinks, reds, and blues adorned the walls, their summer hues banishing the gray monotony of the tunnel. A plush brown carpet sprawled across the floor, burgundy runes stitched in its weave. The dark wooden furniture clustered in welcoming nooks, paired with soft blankets and stacks of books, created an inviting, lived-in warmth. The room rivaled the palace in grandeur, yet felt homier.

“Good evening, my king, my princess.”

Gayle’s kind face lit with a smile. She wore a simple blue gown, elegant without pretension. Her husband, in sapphire overcoat and trousers, tied the braid with a flourish before leaning into a bow. She followed with a graceful curtsy, deeper than expected for her age and standing.

“Rise, Claydon,” Kallias said, his voice free of the frosty formality he reserved for nobles. “I’ve told you for years to light that tunnel.”

“And waste good oil?” he scoffed, one hand landing on his hip as his eyes crinkled with humor. “Pah!”

“Oh, were you frightened?” Gayle asked, stepping forward with concern, her outstretched arms a gesture of comfort.

“Not in the slightest,” I replied, grinning as I clasped her hands.

Greaves cleared his throat.

“I had the king of Radaan at my side. What are a few shadows?” I laughed.

Gayle shook her head, her grin brightening as she studied my dress. “Andeluith herself would think twice before coming down on Kallias.”

Claydon chuckled, drawing my gaze. My lips tightened into a thin smile. Could the tunnel collapse, then? The possibility gnawed at me, unspoken but heavy.

“You must be weary from your travels,” Gayle said, pulling my attention to her. “Clay, take the men to the library for a drink. I’ll escort the princess to her rooms so she can freshen up before dinner.”

The older woman looped her arm through mine, her grip firm but kind, then guided me away. Twisting to glance back, I caught Kallias’ amused grin. His nod urged me forward.

He was right. The Sols were a different breed—welcoming where the Phares were cold.

“I hope our reception wasn’t too humble,” Gayle said. “We’ve been waiting for so long. Claydon saw a plait design in the city and couldn’t resist trying it. First on the goats, of course, but didn’t have enough time.”

Her words conjured a picture that made me stifle a laugh. “It’s a beautiful braid,” I managed, glancing at the intricate weave.

Her silver hair shimmered under the warm light of the lanterns lining the hall. The strands caught and twisted into an elaborate design that reminded me of quilted patterns.

“He’s always brimming with new ideas,” she said with a fond smile, steering us down another corridor.

Thick carpets muffled our steps, and the vibrant tapestries draped along the walls lent a surprising warmth to the otherwise cold stone. It felt familiar, welcoming.

“I’ve sent Poppy to fetch water for your bath. She’s one of the two maids we house here, though I can arrange for more if you require.”

“Only two?” I blinked, unable to hide my surprise. For a manor this size, the staff seemed small.

“Claydon values his privacy,” Gayle explained, patting my hand. “We keep the staff we need. We’re a close-knit household. Dinner is usually in the kitchen with the cook rather than in the dining hall.”

Their humility caught me off guard, stark against the grandeur of the manor. They didn’t wield their wealth like a weapon, as the Phares did. Instead, they shared their table with their people.

“Would the king normally dine in the hall proper?” I asked, curious.

“Oh, no,” she said, her laugh soft but genuine. “Kallias— King Kallias—has been a guest here for many years. He knows how Clay is. He often joins us in the kitchen.”

I hesitated, then tugged her to a stop. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but would it be possible to eat with you as you normally do? Formal dining halls and endless rows of servants… I’ve had my fill of them.”

Her brows arched before her expression softened, and a gleam of approval lit her eyes. “You’re just like Kallias.” She squeezed my hand. “Of course. You are welcome at our table. I’ll fetch you when dinner is ready, but until then, feel free to explore the manor. Guards are stationed near the entrances if you need directions. ”

“Thank you.” I nodded, though uncertainty stirred beneath my calm. Would Kallias mind if I wandered alone?

We continued, passing halls that grew increasingly grand. The stone walls reflected the warm light of mirrored lanterns, creating a golden haze. Despite Claydon’s earlier protest about oil waste, the corridor glowed as though the sun itself dwelled within.

“And here we are,” Gayle said, pausing before a heavy wooden door. It swung open on silent hinges, and she peeked inside. “Poppy isn’t here yet, but I’m sure she’ll arrive soon.”

I stepped over the threshold, my breath catching. Tiny fragments of mirror adorned the ceiling, scattering the lantern light in a delicate dance across the walls. The room felt like a treasure trove of warmth and elegance. White and beige dominated, but muted green accents in tapestries and paintings provided a soothing contrast.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, venturing further.

The receiving area flowed into a dressing room, its chairs draped in furs, the decor plush and inviting. Beyond that, a massive canopy bed awaited, sheer curtains cascading around it like waterfalls of silk. A double door led to the bathing chamber, where more mirrored fragments turned the space into a sanctuary of light.

“How have I not heard of this place?” I asked, marveling.

Gayle’s soft chuckle drifted from the doorway. “As I said, Clay values his privacy, and Kallias respects it in gratitude for his service during the war.”

“The king told me he served as a healer.”

“One of the best.” Pride laced her tone. “He saved the king’s life more than once. But those are tales for another time. Rest now, Princess.”

She took her leave, her steps fading down the hall. I wandered into the bathing chamber, loosening the pins in my hair. The question of dinner lingered. How did one dress for an evening with friends? My wardrobe was tailored for courtly events, not intimate gatherings.

I sucked in a deep breath hoping Poppy had some ideas.