Page 32 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Thirty-One

Kallias

“ I ’m telling you, the tests show the milk from the Kuh’lir has far more fat than the sheep in the foothills. If you grant me a little more grain, I could make up for it next year in butter! Nienna’s a lovely girl.”

My eyes snapped open. I squinted at the ceiling of Clay’s study. The rough wooden beams crisscrossed above me, contrasting sharply with the solid stone walls. The sight made my head throb a little harder.

“What was that last part?”

“I said I could make up for it in butter.”

I raised an eyebrow. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing pale, scarred arms inked with blotches. He smiled at me, that pleased, knowing grin of his, his halo of white hair catching the sunlight like a crown.

“No, the other part.”

“Oh, I just meant Nienna is quite lovely.” He shrugged, his gaze dropping back to the letter he was writing. “She’s got her wits about her, that one.”

“She’s quick,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

He was fishing, and we both knew it.

He shifted, his chair creaking as he sighed. “I’m glad she can relax here. She is like you, bearing the burden of her kingdom even as it threatens to crush her. Pity she’s bound to your son.”

“Pity,” I echoed, resting my head against the couch cushion. I drank far too much mead last night. “Pity will save Radaan.”

“No, you saved us, Kallias.” Clay clicked his tongue, shuffling the papers on his desk. “Her dragons may protect our borders, but you secured them. ”

I grunted, the familiar bitterness twisting in my chest at the reminder. “The marriage to Tallon secures them. That’s all that matters.”

Clay’s lips pressed into a thin line as he gazed out the window, sunlight illuminating the hard lines of his face. “She’d make a magnificent queen,” he murmured.

“Would?” My voice carried an edge, and I leaned forward. “She will.”

His gaze grew distant, and he rested his chin on his hand. “She is a queen. The kind songs are written about. If only the king would accept her.”

I stilled, the air between us heavy with unsaid truths. Clay couldn’t be speaking of me. It was Tallon who needed to accept her. Not me. Never me.

“Gayle seems to enjoy her company,” I said, the words edged with irritation.

His persistence grated on me. My thoughts already tormented me with images of her—alone in bed, the sheets tangled around her. No guards patrolled our halls. Greaves wasn’t here to talk sense into me. That absence had led me here, to Clay’s study, where a steaming cup of kahve sat untouched by my side. I needed a distraction, something to pull my mind from her.

“She does!” Clay snapped back to the conversation, swiveling in his chair to face me. His excitement spilled into the air. “In fact, she’s organized a Sol dance!”

“Nienna will love that,” I murmured, more to myself than him. The Sol dance wasn’t just tradition—it was art, raw and untamed. Every movement spoke of passion, like wind bending the treetops or fire licking at dry wood. It had a wild beauty she would admire. She’d relish seeing the mountain folk, learning their culture.

“She’s agreed to dance,” he added with a sly grin.

I choked on my kahve, the heat burning my throat. “Nienna’s dancing? ” I managed, gripping the mug as if it could steady me.

“Oh, she is quite interested!” Clay said, his words spilling too fast. “Gayle told her you’d teach her the steps. She’s never seen it performed–”

“You volunteered me,” I accused, the bitterness sharp in my voice.

“Well, my wife and I are far too old to participate!” He waved a hand, dismissing my concerns as if this were the most natural solution in the world.

“Couldn’t you have arranged for a proper teacher?”

“You’re here. You know the moves.”

“I’m the king , Clay.”

“And what better way to show unity between Draconia and Radaan than having the king and princess share a dance? Tradition, culture, diplomacy—it’s perfect!” His voice cracked slightly as he threw his argument down like a gauntlet. His raised eyebrows dared me to object.

“People think you are mad,” I said. The kahve scalded as I downed the rest, the burn forcing my thoughts into sharper focus. “But I see through you.”

His hand gestured for me to continue, his expression unreadable .

“I know exactly what you’re doing.”

I had let it slip. Some point either at the palace, or here, he had seen me be too familiar with Nienna. When two people like Gayle and Clay were in love, they could see it everywhere. Matchmakers and the worst of them.

True matchmakers. Not the logical kind that married for convenience or alliance. No, they had the burning, passionate love that was in the storybooks—and so they deemed everyone worthy of such affection.

No matter if they couldn’t have it.

“You’ll teach her?” His tone left no room for negotiation.

“Do you have a dance instructor hidden somewhere in this manor?” I groaned, pushing to my feet with deliberate slowness.

“Not a chance.”

Rolling my shoulders, I winced as tension flared between my shoulder blades. If Nienna wanted this, I wouldn’t refuse her. “Did you tell her how it’s done here?”

“I doubt Gayle went into detail.” He covered his mouth with one hand, though his mirth gleamed in his eyes. When his hand dropped, he beamed like a huntsman who just set the perfect trap.

I sighed, placing my empty mug on a side table. The gravity of the moment pressed down on me as I turned for the door. “Meddling old man,” I muttered.

When Lady Sol brought Nienna to the ballroom that afternoon, I called on every ounce of composure I had left. Gayle, as always, looked the picture of nobility. Her long dress swept the floor, her silver hair twisted into an elegant braided crown. She moved with the kind of grace that declared her innocence, though I suspected her mischief.

But Nienna?

Restraint, I’d learned, was a muscle—strengthened with practice.

I had never been weaker.

Her golden hair, a shade that caught the light like the first sunlit morning of summer, had been braided with care. Soft tendrils framed her face, curling along her shoulders. A deep blue dress hugged her figure, its sleeveless cut scandalous by Radaanian standards. A sheer shawl draped over her, its fringe swaying with her movements. The hem skimmed the floor, but the front? A tied middle panel revealed breeches that clung to her legs, tucked snugly into black boots.

My wonders of how tight those breeches were answered with every step she took .

I forced my gaze higher as Gayle waved her forward. My jaw tightened, regret sinking like a stone in my stomach. She faced me, her lips curving in a shy, maddening smile, making me teeter between fight and flight.

Logic whispered for me to call her back, to send Nienna away. But I hadn’t listened to sense where she was concerned for a long time.

“I hear there’s a dance tomorrow night.” Her voice, low and warm, curled around me like smoke, stoking heat beneath my skin. She hugged herself, her lashes brushing her cheeks as she peeked up at me. “But I don’t know the steps.”

“Clay told me you wanted to participate,” I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. My feet stayed rooted as she inched closer, the distance between us evaporating.

“If I’m able, yes.” Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, which gleamed under the sunlight filtering through the windows. “The people of Sol deserve to see me embracing their culture. Don’t you think?”

“They’d be honored simply by your presence.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Elohios, why couldn’t I shut my mouth?

“If you’d prefer not to teach me,” she said with feigned innocence, “I could ask a guard–”

“I’ll show you how, Nienna.” My voice dropped into a growl as I dragged a hand through my hair. The thought of the guards anywhere near her sent a jolt through my chest.

She grinned and a thousand curses bounced around my head, realizing she goaded me into that reaction.

Her eyes wandered the ballroom, lingering on the raised stage, the carved pillars, and the empty rows of chairs, before finally returning to me.

“Shall we?” I extended my hand toward her, palm up, steady and waiting.

Her gaze lingered, brow furrowing as if she weighed the consequences of taking it.

“Sol’s people are not formal,” I said, my voice quiet but coaxing. “This won’t be like the structured dances you’re used to.”

“Do you think I’ll learn it in a single day?” Her laugh, light and nervous, escaped her as she slipped her hand into mine.

Warmth spread where our palms met, her fingers threading through mine with an ease that made me forget to breathe.

Together, we climbed to the stage.

“It’s less about the steps and more about the flow of the music,” I assured her.

Lifting her hand, I spun her once as she moved onto the platform. A delighted laugh bubbled from her lips as she twirled. I caught her at the waist, her frame aligning perfectly with my hands, a maddening reminder of how well she fit against me in every way .

“Am I following you, or the tune?” Her voice softened as I pulled her close, her smile playing at the edges of her lips. Her gaze drifted, skipping across my face and halting just shy of my mouth.

“Both.”

“But there’s no music.”

“Then follow me.”

“Are you going to command me, King Kallias? ” she teased, her breath brushing my neck as she leaned closer.

“Do you want me to?”

Her lips parted, and sanity frayed at the edges of my control. I spun her away, her fingers still clasped in mine. She extended her arm in a dramatic flare, her movements precise yet fluid. A subtle tug drew her back to me, and I pressed a palm against her stomach.

“The dance… it’s intimate,” I cautioned, the words heavy with meaning.

Her head dipped in acknowledgment. “Most dances are.”

The rhythm of my pulse thundered as I tugged her closer, angling my body. She bit her lip, surrendering to my pull.

“Tell me to stop.” I whispered. It was a plea and a prayer, and one only she could answer.

“Never.” She pressed her chest flush against me, her heart beating a frantic rhythm. Her legs slid around mine, cradling my thigh between hers. The warmth of her core seared at my skin like a damning brand. Guilt and lust throttled through me.

“Our chests never part,” I murmured, the words more breath than sound. “Our hearts move as one.”

She nodded, wide-eyed, as I guided her hand to rest on my shoulder, the other held firm in mine.

“It’s the legs,” I explained, my voice rasping. “That’s where the dance lives. The only mistake is stepping on your partner’s toes.”

“Do you have steel on your boots this time?” she quipped, her smirk as sharp as a blade.

“You couldn’t hurt me.”

“No?”

Her breath fanned against my ear as she lifted her leg, her boot dragging a slow, deliberate line up my calf. Her knee hooked around my thigh, pulling us even closer until the pressure of her against me wrung a hiss from my throat.

“You sound pained,” she murmured, tilting her head to expose her neck, all but begging for my lips.

“There are different kinds of torture—”

I pressed my thigh between hers, her gasp shattering the silence. She stumbled back a step, her body trembling with the tension between us .

“—Some are laced with pleasure.”

Her gaze dropped to my feet as we moved through the next steps. I backed her two paces, then shifted the momentum, pulling her toward me. She didn’t falter, sliding forward to straddle my thigh once more, her heat igniting a spark within me.

She wanted to be there—pressed against me, letting her body speak louder than words. The realization struck hard. Her desire mirrored mine, raw and unguarded, a sensation that left me dizzy.

I knew the hollow hunger of noblewomen, their eyes devouring power rather than the man behind it. They wanted Radaan’s throne, the weight of its crown, not me. Nienna was different. She saw past the title. Without our titles, I would only have to ask and she would have me. Take me not as a burden or with distaste but with vigor.

She adapted quickly, catching my cues and testing boundaries with a confidence that stole my breath. Encouraged by her boldness, I quickened the tempo, leading her across the stage. Her hips dipped with deliberate intent, and I shifted, guiding her to the side. She took the lead for a heartbeat, brushing against me before weaving through my legs. A twirl spun her into position, her thigh pressing firmly against mine.

A grin tugged at my lips as her chest heaved, caught between the mental effort of matching my steps and the physical pull of our closeness. Her body told one story, her mind fought to tell another, and both unraveled beautifully before me.

The ballroom swallowed all other sounds. Only our labored breaths and the occasional scrape of boots on stone broke the stillness. Her foot snagged against mine, and I steadied her, but her other boot betrayed her, sending her sliding between my legs. Her weight threw me off balance, forcing me to stagger as I caught her. In a single movement, I lifted her against my chest. Her hands flew to my shoulders, her breath a shaky gasp against my ear.

“Too quick on your feet,” I murmured, her gaze searing into mine. “Slow down. Relish it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” she shot back, her voice defiant as she pulled free. With a flick of her wrist, she discarded her shawl, tying it low on her hips in one fluid motion.

I flexed my fingers, unable to stop the smirk that crossed my face. “Some things are better when savored.”

Her steps were deliberate as she moved toward me, the fringe swaying with each subtle shift. “I’ll savor the memory,” she whispered. “Let me be consumed.”

A growl tore out of me, a low primal approval as I swept her back against my chest. She practically climbed my thigh, wrapping her leg around to tuck me against her. Her lips parted in a breathless gasp and I didn’t allow her to catch her breath before I moved her.

Inside, a symphony played. Drums pounded a wild rhythm of need while violins screamed in crescendo, their urgency matched only by the pressure of her body against mine. Her gasps became part of the music, feeding the blaze beneath my skin.

When she spun away, my focus faltered, drawn to the sway of her hips. She matched my tempo as if hearing the same invisible melody, moving with a synchrony that defied reason.

As if we shared the same soul.

She came crashing close, and the music surged to its climax. My hand found her thigh, jerking it to my waist. Her whimper cut through the pounding in my ears as she arched against me. Her hair spilled toward the floor, her back bending with a grace that defied logic. Every part of her leaned into my strength, trusting me to hold her as her chest rose and fell, her hips grinding against my thigh. She offered me everything without hesitation.

I could have taken her—there on the stage, against the wall, anywhere. I wouldn’t have needed words. Already, she belonged to me in every way that mattered. She stoked the fire in me, daring it to consume us both. Whatever I gave, she would take and demand more.

But she wasn’t mine.

She. Wasn’t. Mine.

I tugged her upright, and she wavered before finding her footing. When I let go, her body seemed to protest the loss. Sweat glimmered at her temples, and loose strands clung to her flushed cheeks—a portrait of effort and passion.

“You know the steps,” I murmured, my fingers twitching at the loss of contact.

“You’ll dance with me?” Her words came in ragged breaths, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the question.

“If another man dared to try, I’d kill him.” My voice dropped to a growl, raw with everything I couldn’t express. Every fiber of me burned to pull her close, to let instinct take over, but I held back.

Her blush deepened, the red blooming across her cheeks betraying her attempt to stifle a grin. She knew. She basked in my jealousy, soaking it in like sunlight.

“We might burn Radaan to the ground in the process, but yes, Princess. I’ll dance with you.”

Dinner with the Sol family felt like stepping into another life. Here, I could almost forget my crown, my title. Nienna’s leg curled around mine under the table as she chatted with Gayle about mountain folk fashions. The warmth of her touch made it easy to imagine we were ordinary.

Not a princess promised to another. Not a king who had signed away his own son to her hand. Just two people, ripped from the grip of reality, clinging to a fragile illusion.

But I was too far gone. Our hearts were too tangled.

Her laughter rang out, unguarded. Golden hair spilled over her shoulders, free of royal pretense. The simple dress she wore carried no embroidery, no jewels—just her. She looked as if she belonged to another world, one that didn’t care for crowns or courts.

Our eyes caught—hers, gleaming with quiet joy. The subtle shift of her calf against mine made my heart lurch. Her touch was a silent plea, tugging me closer, tethering me to the moment. I eased my leg against hers, giving in.

We were a tangle of contradictions, our lives as entwined as our legs underneath the table. Our secrets lay hidden there too, just beneath the surface, waiting to rise and destroy us.

This couldn’t last.

But for now, I would savor every second.

The following morning, the Sols led the way to the manor’s only other entrance. Nienna’s fingers tightened around my arm as Greaves trailed behind, a new blade strapped to his chest. He looked content, his usual restlessness replaced by the calm of his task.

He had returned by midday and, as we prepared for dinner, he rambled on about ore and blacksmiths. I listened with half an ear, more focused on him than the heat building inside me from the proximity to Nienna. It was difficult to keep my attention elsewhere.

Somewhere between his eager talk, I’d agreed to buy some of the ore for the palace blacksmith’s use.

The massive doors to the manor groaned open. They were towering, thick as a man’s chest, reaching from the vaulted ceiling to the stone floor. Four guards strained against their weight, pushing them apart. Sunshine flooded the courtyard, making Clay and his wife stand a little straighter .

Nienna stiffened beside me, her hand clutching my arm. I placed my own hand over hers, holding tight, feeling the tremble in her fingers. She was leaving the manor’s safety behind. In public, she wore a mask—a role she played well.

“You’re safe,” I murmured, my eyes on the guards but my words for her alone.

“From the people, yes.” Her breath hitched, her gaze fixed ahead on the bright courtyard. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

I gave a low scoff as the Sols moved along, hand in hand, into the sun’s full embrace. “Scared of me?”

“I fear they will see far too much,” she answered with a smile, the edges strained.

A smirk tugged at my lips. I lifted my chin, stepping forward as the sunlight bathed us both. It wrapped around me, warm and full of promise—a lover’s touch. My body, starved for the sun, opened to it like a plant stretching toward the sky—a blessing from Elohios.

A brief tremor stirred deep inside me. Was I worthy of his blessing? Was I still his chosen? The lies, the deception—they weighed on me. When would I cross the line? Would he take it all back?

Nienna’s fingers dug into my arm, grounding me, pulling me into the moment.

That was a problem for another time.

Guards flanked the staircase leading up to the manor. The entrance itself seemed carved from the mountainside, its doors a portal through rock. From the porch, it looked as if the stairwell dropped off into nothingness. Clay and Gayle led the way to the edge, where the narrow stairs curved to the side, too tight for any carriage. Only a stone barricade offered a flimsy guard against the long drop.

But a single misstep from the top and the fall would be fatal.

A gust swept across the mountainside, biting and strong. Nienna didn’t falter. She leaned into it, her smile genuine, unshaken.

There it was—my Dragon’s Heart.

My attention, however, was more focused on the Sols, making their way down. I feared they might slip, but this was their home. They moved with ease, every step confident. At the base of the stairs, five mules waited, patient and steady.

Their coats were dappled, spotted like stones in a stream, and their ears flicked toward Clay as he called out to them. More sure-footed than horses, they were bred in these mountains. Our own horses could make the journey to Sol, but the risk would be far greater.

“They have such long ears,” Nienna murmured, awestruck.

I led her to the white beast. “Never seen a mule before? ”

“It’s not a horse?” she asked, reaching out to stroke the mule’s nose. It snorted, soft and warm, against her palm.

“Crossbreed,” I answered, a reminder of her unfamiliarity with this world. “Sired by a donkey, dam’s a horse.”

I reached down, my hand brushing along her knee before sliding up her calf as she gripped the saddle. She tensed, a sharp breath catching in her throat, but I didn’t pull away. With a swift motion, I lifted her, guiding her boot into the stirrup. She steadied herself, the reins slipping through her fingers, her eyes focused on the creature’s massive ears, swiveling to track every sound.

“Mules are known for their deft feet!” Clay’s voice rang out from his mount beside his wife’s.

“And their sour disposition,” I added, swinging myself onto a brown-and-white mule. It stiffened under me, as if sensing my words, and I adjusted the reins. Being bucked off here would not end well.

“These were bottle-raised,” Gayle said, urging her mount toward the winding pathway. “A mare kept throwing spotted foals, and Clay had to have them.”

“It’s a rare mutation!”

I chuckled, checking Nienna’s seat, making sure she was steady before nudging my mule into motion. I stayed to the outside of the path, putting her safely between me and the mountain. Greaves, no doubt fuming behind me, couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t let Nienna near the cliff’s edge. She was too inexperienced on horseback.

A single wrong move, and a buck would send her tumbling to her death.

The Manor in the Mountains was one of the safest places in Radaan for good reason. The only paths leading to it were through a secured tunnel or a narrow cliff-side trail.

Sol itself was carved into the mountainside, but between the manor and the settlement stretched broad swaths of semi-level ground where the people farmed and raised the Kuh’lir. The area was easily defensible—only approachable over the mountains or up from the foothills, while the Velli side was a sheer rock face.

There was no conquering Sol. Its inhabitants had fought and bled for their land, but their homes and children remained safe throughout the war.

As we neared the slopes, the view of the stronghold vanished. Nienna shifted, her attention torn between the mule beneath her and trying to peer past me toward the valley. The sure-footed mules navigated the steep descent with ease, their ears pricked forward.

When we rounded the outcropping, Nienna’s gasp made me smile.

Seeing Sol from the ground was one thing; up close, it was a different world.

The city sprawled across thirteen levels, the lowest still a considerable ride from the base of the foothills. The highest level barely reached halfway to the mountain’s peak, leaving room for generations to come .

But the real wonder?

Much of Sol was hidden from view. Built into the mountainside, it was a labyrinth of mining shafts now turned into streets and homes. As miners dug deeper, the city expanded, filling the empty tunnels with life.

The Andeluith, Sol’s pride, rose above us. From the outside, it was a dull gray stone, but its inner levels gleamed with white marble, glowing like a pearl beneath the sun. Even from here, I could hear the faint laughter of children and the hum of daily life.

“Behold, the jewel of the mountains!” Clay spread his arm wide, pride shining in his eyes. I couldn’t blame him. Sol was a sight to behold.

“It’s beautiful!” Nienna’s voice trembled with awe as she leaned forward. The mule beneath her balked at the sudden shift, and I snatched the reins, steadying her mount as she gasped, gripping the saddle.

“Remember where you are,” I warned.

She shot me an unapologetic glance, but I didn’t release my hold until she settled, her weight balanced once more.

“I’ve never heard of Sol.”

“You don’t know the districts?” I asked, surprised. She had seemed so prepared when she arrived in Radaan.

“Oh, I read the names,” she said, “but how did the books miss the beauty of it?”

I chuckled.

Gayle turned to answer. “We’re a private people. Few brave the climb.”

“Self-sustaining, dear.” Clay corrected with a knowing glance.

“You don’t let many up the path through the mountains,” I added, drawing out the words.

“It goes through my home—of course not.” He scoffed. “They’re free to try the passes if they want.”

I shifted in my saddle, my eyes tracing the narrow bridges below, where they zigzagged across the gap between the cliffs and the sharp angles leading up the mountain. It wasn’t for the faint of heart.

We rode on, Gayle pointing out the flowers growing in the cracks of the rock, while her husband narrated each layer of stone we passed. When we reached the first plateau of sloped grassland, she rode ahead to check on the city’s preparations.

“You must see the Kuh’lir!” Clay urged.

It didn’t take long before Nienna spotted one.

“By the sea beneath, is it flying?!” She shaded her eyes against the sun, squinting at the steep cliff.

He burst into laughter, his wild mane of frizz bouncing as he shook his head. “Oh no. That’s just how good they are at climbing!”

Far up the rock face, a massive golden ram clung to the mountain, its hooves tucked into invisible footholds. It tore off a handful of flowers, swinging its horns our way. Unfazed by our presence, it chewed the plants with slow, deliberate movements.

“That’s Er’oer,” Clay said, pride lacing his voice. “The largest of our bucks. I’m breeding a line big enough to mount.”

“You want to ride them?” I raised an eyebrow. That was a first.

“The Kuh’lir are known for their hair, but these could carry a rider into the mountains within a few generations. Imagine it, Kallias,” the man twisted in his seat, his eyes gleaming. “A mountain force that could go straight through the peaks!”

“Dragons can fly over.”

Clay blinked at Nienna, and I stifled a smile. She knew how to rattle him.

“Yes, well, it would still be an imposing force.”

“The larger the goat, the more food for the dragons.” She grinned, mischief lighting her eyes. “Please, don’t assume I’m opposed to your breeding plan.”

He sputtered, grappling for a response. “You think I would let those creatures eat Er’oer’s kids?!”

“Onward, Clay.” I chuckled, waving him forward. He grumbled under his breath but reluctantly led us on.

“Save your taunts for when we’re safe in Sol,” I warned Nienna.

She snickered but pressed her lips together, remaining silent.

The path widened as we reached a grassy ledge hemmed in by stone fences. The largest goats I had ever seen lay basking in the sun, some sleeping, others bounding off the steep rock walls. Small barns nestled against the mountainside, and the air was filled with the shrill bleats of the herds.

Commoners paused in their work, bowing as we passed, offering greetings to their lord and king—and eyeing the princess with astonishment, followed by wide smiles. We wound our way to a lower ledge, even larger than the first, thick with green sod.

“How do you grow grass out of rock?” Nienna asked, surveying the second pasture. Here, the goats were smaller, their fur longer and shimmering with health. A spotted buck, its horns as large as my mule’s head, stood among a herd of does.

“It’s all about the species,” Clay said, slowing his mule to ride beside Nienna. “They favor the mountain pastures, but it won’t grow in the valley. We redirect the snowmelt, carry the rocky silt up to the ledges.” He dismounted and grabbed a handful of the sharp-bladed grass, handing it to her. “Then we seed it, and it grows just like it would in the wild, but in fields.”

Nienna ran her finger along the narrow leaves, inspecting them. “Do you supplement their diet? ”

“With grain and hay from the valleys, yes.” Clay beamed, clearly pleased with her interest. “They stay here because they know they’ll get a consistent supply of food, especially in winter.”

A loud snort pierced the air, drawing our attention to the herd. The spotted buck, without hesitation, approached a doe. With a quick, assertive motion, he mounted her.

“There he goes!” The man practically cheered as he swung into the saddle.

Nienna tilted her head, studying the scene.

I let out a slow breath. “Clay, maybe it’s time to show the princess the nursery?”

“Why? ‘Tis nearly empty. The next breeding season’s starting.”

Nienna spun, eyebrows raised. “It is only natural.”

I met her gaze, leaning over my saddle. “And when dragons mate in the skies of Draconia, do all the good folk stop and watch?”

“Yes, actually. It’s an exciting day when a dragon takes a mate. Eyes are on the sky, from young to old.”

That explained a lot. She’d been raised around creatures that claimed their desires openly. And now, she wanted something—yet couldn’t have it.

I shook my head, nudging my mule forward. “Come on, Clay. Your buck can tend his herd another day.”

The man sighed but took the lead again, guiding us down the mountain path toward the city. We traveled slowly, taking in the towering cliffs and sweeping views. I clenched my stomach whenever we neared the edges, but I kept my unease hidden. Nienna, however, said nothing.

The fields below, though small compared to the plains, were Sol’s treasure. Every inch of land was nurtured—flowers, herbs, crops sprouting from the rock itself. They made the most of what space they could.

As we rounded the final outcropping, the gleaming city reappeared, blinding in the sunlight. White marble stretched as far as I could see. The hooves of our mules struck the cobblestones, catching the attention of the citizens.

Soft cheers rose as we entered, and I straightened. Sol, like Reem, was a place I knew well, where people recognized me. Nienna’s sharp eyes darted over the bustling streets, slipping into the shadowed alcoves of shops carved into the mountainside.

Children laughed, darting around us, sketching small bows. Women threw flowers in our path, and men offered respectful salutes. I’d fought beside many of them. They quickly returned to their tasks, but all still wore their swords.

It would take years to undo the marks of war.

We traveled down the tenth main street, and soon Clay led us up a flight of stairs to the eleventh level. Sol was a work of art—every crevice adorned with carvings, ivy etched in sprawling designs, and statues of goats leaping from pillar to pillar.

We continued up, nearing the thirteenth. Workers lived there, but the heart of the city—markets, shops, the dance hall—was at the top.

By midday, the streets buzzed with activity, people finishing errands before the evening’s festivities. It was clear Clay had announced my attendance; the air crackled with excitement. Several women curtsied to Nienna, whispering behind their hands. She was a novelty to them, a rare guest in their city. I couldn’t predict when she’d come again. Tallon didn’t care for the Sol, he favored the plains. Which made his sudden friendliness with the nobles along the Craggs interesting.

We stopped in front of the dance hall. Nienna tilted her head back, eyes wide as she took in the stone eagles perched above the entrance—attached only at their wing tips, a breathtaking feat of engineering. I didn’t dare ask Clay about it, or he’d launch into an impassioned speech.

“Milord!” A young boy dashed up, eager to take the reins. “My king!” he called, ducking under the mule’s head with a grin.

“Blessings,” I greeted, sliding from my saddle. As I reached for Nienna, she dismounted with grace, and I steadied her waist as she found her balance.

“It’s beautiful here,” she murmured, turning to take in the city, her gaze sweeping over the marble streets.

“She’s the pride of the Andeluith,” I replied, reluctant to pull my hands from her.

“Sol is a marvel,” she said in awe as she approached the doors.

Greaves moved close, and we followed Clay and Nienna inside.

The building was massive, the vast open floor made more impressive by its lack of furniture. A few benches lined the corners, and stone pillars wrapped in living vines supported the roof. Mirrors at the doors and windows bounced light inside, reflecting off crystal and glass chandeliers.

The room dazzled, casting a thousand reflections. It bathed Nienna’s midnight blue dress in flickering spots that resembled the stars. She looked around, her lips parted in wonder, marveling at the marble that stretched deep into the mountain. Potted plants dotted the hall, and tapestries depicting lush hills and towering mountains softened the echoes while allowing the music to carry.

Gayle spoke with a musician in a corner while her husband led us to a long table laden with refreshments. The well-off citizens were already gathered, some bowing in my direction, waiting for the signal to approach.

We had barely raised our wineglasses when Clay gave the nod.

Once again, I donned my mask. I wasn’t just Kallias now. I was the King of Radaan.