Page 33 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Nienna

I sensed the shift when Claydon gave the cue. Kallias didn’t stiffen, sigh, or draw a deliberate breath. No outward signal marked the change, yet I felt it. The man I knew was gone, replaced by Radaan’s king.

A noblewoman brushed past, steering me a step away from him. I allowed it, though every instinct screamed to resist. Here, I was Princess Nienna of Draconia—not the woman who longed for him. For now, I could play the part—until the dance began, at least.

“Greetings, Your Highness. I am Avoth.”

“Princess, it’s an honor. I’m Luna.”

Names and titles whirled around me, as countless faces blurred into a kaleidoscope of fine silks and pinned hair. Their practiced smiles came and went like waves on a shore. Then the commoners trickled in. Worn tunics and patched skirts replaced gilded fabrics, their tired faces a stark contrast to the nobles’ polished veneers. Though they’d done their best to tidy up, they stood in the same line to greet us. For this moment, the divide between rich and poor had narrowed. Yet, the furtive glances exchanged across the hall suggested that equality lived only within these walls, and only for tonight.

I kept my composure, relying on years of training to navigate the endless parade of introductions. A noblewoman named Sherry stepped closer, her bright laughter grating on my nerves, but before I had to engage further, Greaves appeared at my side. His subtle gesture drew my attention over my shoulder.

Kallias stood across the room, speaking with a man dressed in fine-embroidered garb. Despite the conversation, his eyes found mine. A flicker of light sparked in their icy blue depths, and warmth bloomed beneath my ribs. My mask almost slipped as a smile tugged at my lips.

How had I let myself drift so far from him?

“The king has summoned me,” I announced, inclining my chin toward the four young women circling me like inquisitive hawks. Their questions about Draconia faded into the background as I moved away, not waiting for permission.

Wineglass in hand, I crossed the room to Kallias, straightening my spine and steadying my breath. His gaze caught mine again, roving to my boots before snapping back to the nobleman. A reminder flickered in my mind—not too much wine tonight. The last thing I needed was to lose my balance during the dance.

The setting sun spilled molten gold through the windows, igniting the white walls and polished surfaces. Kallias stood at the center of it all, bathed in an amber glow that made him seem untouchable. Almost.

With a single word, he dismissed the nobleman and crossed the space between us, his hand finding the small of my back. His touch was firm, anchoring, and he turned me away from the throng.

“Are you ready?”

“Are you, dear Kallias?” I whispered, lifting my drink for a final sip, my gaze locking with his. His eyes burned, unrelenting.

“Enough.” The word came out rough, nearly a groan. He plucked the cup from my hand and set it aside with a sharp clink. “We will open the dance.”

“Do you remember our first?” I murmured as he turned me to face the waiting crowd. People had already parted, as though sensing what was to come.

“I was only a replacement,” he said, guiding me to the center of the room. “Tallon should have been there.”

The music faded, leaving a charged silence. Conversations dwindled. Even the musicians stood poised, waiting for our signal.

I resisted the urge to bite my lip and instead lifted the front panel of my dress, tying it with deliberate precision. Sol women tucked their dresses into their belts, Gayle had said, though mine wasn’t cut for that style. My fingers brushed his chilled gold mantle as I steadied myself, resenting the barrier it placed between his warmth and my touch.

He caught my hand in his, his grip firm but careful, his gaze unwavering. His palm settled low on my hip, tugging me flush against him. The press of him stole my breath, and his thigh slipped between mine with effortless confidence.

His breathing stayed steady, unaffected by the eyes fixed on us. My pulse hammered, my mind racing with fears of missteps and imagined disasters. What if I tripped? Or stepped on his boot? Worse, what if everyone saw the truth etched across my face—that I loved him ?

I loved him.

“Peace.” His voice rumbled low, pulling my focus to his eyes. His palm slid up my back, spreading warmth through the fabric as he held me closer. “I feel your heart.”

But did he hear what it whispered with every frantic beat?

The light caught on strands of silver at his temples, accentuating the weathered creases near his eyes. No longer did I wonder if those lines were carved by smiles—they were etched by sunlight and war. The same silver dusted his scruff, lending an edge to his otherwise polished appearance.

I nodded, unable to find my voice. With him, I was safe. I trusted him.

He drew in a breath, and the musicians responded, launching into a vibrant, pulsing rhythm. Relief coursed through me, loosening the tension in my shoulders. His lips quirked as though he knew, and I wet mine in response.

His thigh pressed between my legs, forcing my retreat. I dragged my boots against the polished floor, hips swaying to match his lead. He pulled me forward, then back again, asking me to follow with a steady rhythm.

A grin teased at my lips, but I refused to let it break through. Instead, I chased his movements with growing confidence.

The dance ignited between us, as fiery as our rehearsals. Heat seeped into the air, thickening with tension after every step. As the music quickened, it urged our pace into a frenzy. When he pivoted, I hooked my leg around his to anchor myself, refusing to lose the solidity of his body.

He hummed, a growl of approval, as he guided me through another set of steps. It felt like a game—a dangerous, intimate game. His movements asked; mine answered. When I spun into his arms, his hips pressed against my backside before he quickly ducked them away, a smirk curling my lips.

The tempo surged, my feet flying to keep up. A misstep faltered my rhythm, but he disguised it with ease, crushing my chest against his. I gasped for air, clinging to him as I regained my footing.

Heat flushed through me, both from exertion and the undeniable pull of desire simmering beneath my skin. How would I walk away from him? How could I possibly go about my night pretending I didn’t burn with need? The hunger for him lurked just under the surface, threatening to tear its way out.

The music reached its crescendo, and he flung me out with practiced precision. When I returned, I crashed into his chest, his hand gripping my thigh. His fingers pressed hard enough to leave an impression, and a sharp gasp tore from my lips.

Arching against him as he bent me over, the music faded around us. His thumb brushed the dagger strapped to my leg, and I glanced at Greaves upside down, who arched a brow .

Kallias pulled me upright, slow and deliberate. My hand trailed up his chest, settling beneath the cold chains of his mantle.

When our gazes met, the hunger blazing in his nearly buckled my knees. His jaw flexed as he steadied me, eye twitching as his focus dropped to my mouth.

I turned my head, surveying the room. To my surprise, the crowd had joined us at some point, their dances drawing them into their own private worlds.

Kallias released my thigh with agonizing slowness, his fingers curling against me before falling away. My breath came in shallow, ragged bursts, his tension echoing mine.

Dragons above, how I reveled in the unrestrained lust in his gaze, a fire threatening to burn through his resistance.

“Well done!” Claydon called, his applause crisp and deliberate as he and his wife strode over. Their movements were unhurried but purposeful, hemming us in against the crowd. “I daresay you’ve set the bar quite high for the night!”

“And to think you didn’t know the dance, Princess,” Gayle added, her warm gaze gleaming with amusement.

“I had the best teacher,” I replied, feeling the heat of Kallias’ presence beside me.

His jaw stiffened, and his fingers twitched at his side. The king of Radaan, always stoic and collected, stood unsettled.

By me.

“Will we dance again?” I asked, tilting my head toward him.

“Yes!” Claydon blurted.

“No,” Kallias countered in unison.

Gayle chuckled, mirroring my amusement as we studied the two men. The musicians struck up a new rhythm, and Kallias ran a hand through his hair, a rare slip in his composed demeanor.

“I don’t have it in me,” he admitted.

“Ah, yes. Your journey must have taken its toll,” Claydon offered, eager to fill the silence. “Well, do stay to watch! Evett and Miram are here tonight, and they are magnificent—a true spectacle.”

We retreated to the edges of the room, wine in hand. The drink offered no relief from the fire smoldering beneath my skin. Kallias and I stood in shared silence, an unspoken tension crackling between us as the evening unfolded.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and lanterns bloomed to life along the walls, casting warm light that scattered in fractured rays across the room. The once-bustling dance floor thinned, leaving only a few couples who moved with the grace of practiced performers. Their steps grew bolder, each motion a challenge, as if daring the others to falter.

The crowd hummed with energy. Some sat in a circle, cheering the last dancing couple. The woman’s hair clung to her damp face, her cheeks flushed from exertion. Her partner’s temples glistened with sweat, yet both wore triumphant smiles. They bowed to the applause, fingers interlocked, before the musicians teased them with a playful refrain, urging them into one final movement.

She leaned into him, her lips curving into a coy smile, and he sighed with a mirthful smirk, waving toward the players in surrender.

This moment was unlike the others. While Kallias and I had begun the night in a frenzied rush, this pair moved with deliberate intimacy. Each step was a seduction, every motion a silent promise. He skimmed his hand along her arm, withdrawing just before their bodies met. When she raised her leg for him to grasp, the act was languid, a slow drag that left the air charged.

My cheeks heated, and I swallowed a sip of wine, averting my gaze. Watching them seemed intrusive, as though I had stumbled into a private moment, where passion mingled with restraint.

It was a game of hot and cold. Give and take. Of secrets and truths.

Of Kallias and I.

I stole a glance at him. He stood rigid, his left hand resting on his belt, the other gripping his untouched wine. His eyes, shadowed and intent, never wavered from the couple. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and the faint scruff along his face glinted in the lantern glow.

Speckles of light danced over his mantle, and I caught my reflection in the brilliant gold. A princess who loved a king. A king bound by a blood oath. Two lovers tangled in a web. It was forbidden.

And I never wanted anything more.

Darkness wrapped everything in its embrace as we rode back to the manor. The hour hung between night and dawn, the world snared in an uneasy stillness. Crickets had fallen silent, and the birds had yet to stir. It was the quiet moment when even Radaan seemed to hold her breath, waiting to see if the sun would rise again.

When we arrived, the Sols slipped away, exhaustion evident in their brisk goodbyes. Gayle cast a sly smile in my direction, and Claydon raised his brows at the king, a silent exchange that left me smirking.

Enablers, the both of them.

“I’ve got her, Greaves,” Kallias rasped, his voice rough with fatigue.

The guard snorted. “Who’s got you? ”

I caught the faintest flicker of amusement on his face. His raised brows, etched into his weathered forehead, spoke volumes.

Kallias’ gaze softened before he straightened with a shrug. “I can manage.”

Greaves gave a derisive huff, his palms lifted in mock surrender. “Just don’t get yourself killed—or worse.”

Kallias leveled a glare at him. I bit back a laugh, the tension between them lightened by familiarity. Shaking his head, the guard muttered under his breath as he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

The silence deepened once he was gone, leaving us alone. No servants bustled through the halls, no echoes betrayed prying ears. Only dim lanterns broke the gloom.

“Tired?” Kallias asked, his voice low.

A thrumming energy coursed through me, a restless spark I couldn’t quite name. “Not at all.”

His chuckle reverberated through the quiet. His elbow pressed my hand against his side, and he led me forward. “Then come with me.”

The manor’s darkened halls stretched ahead, their walls a blur as my focus narrowed to the warmth of his arm beneath my palm. Faint, flickering lanterns cast fleeting shadows across statues and paintings, their details lost in the gravity of his presence.

We passed my rooms, heading deeper into the estate. Questions stirred, each step tightening a knot of nerves. Was he leading me to his chambers? The thought sent a jolt through me, but before I could voice it, we rounded a corner—and my breath caught.

The corridor opened into an expanse alive with greenery. Stone tiles gave way to soft moss underfoot, its lush texture absorbing the sound of our steps. Shrubs and flowers spilled over pathways, and trees—some slender, others towering—reached toward a ceiling of glass.

Moonlight poured through the panes, painting the garden in a silvery glow. Shadows mingled with soft light, and the space seemed to stretch. Foliage obscured the far wall, creating the illusion of a boundless forest.

“The gardens,” Kallias said, his deep voice reverent.

“One would think gardens belonged outside,” I murmured, laughter slipping out as I moved forward, my hand sliding free of his.

“They wouldn’t survive the Kuh’lir.”

Trailing my fingers along a massive leaf, I marveled at its size—as broad as a dragon’s claw. These plants seemed foreign, more suited to the southern lowlands than the cold heights of the mountains. Warmth lingered in the air, a product of sunlight trapped by the glass ceiling, nurturing the lush array of life within .

A blossom the size of my head drew me closer. Its pristine white petals—like silk beneath my touch. Its sweet fragrance mingled with the earthy scent of moss and stone. I could almost believe we stood in the heart of a wild forest, far from the confines of the manor.

“Moonstar. It blooms at night.” His voice came from behind me, warm and close, though he didn’t touch me.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It pales in comparison to you.”

A shiver curled through me, and the sudden rush of butterflies in my stomach felt more like a storm than a flutter. My breath hitched, throat dry as my heart stumbled over itself.

The world outside the glass garden had vanished. No people, no noise, just moonlight and shadows. He and I stood cloaked in this hidden space, lost in the quiet companionship of flowers and stars.

His hand grazed my side, light as the whisper of wind. “Come,” he murmured near my ear, his breath a soft tickle before he stepped away.

My chest tightened as I fought to reclaim my composure. Each step he took down the mossy path seemed to pull me with invisible threads, his silhouette commanding under the silver glow of the moon. How far would I go tonight? How far would he allow?

And what boundaries would I dare to test?

The soft rays of moonlight caught his mantle in brief gaps between the trees, reminding me he was not just Kallias. He still shouldered his nation, and yet he was sharing this moment with me.

My mouth went dry as I stared at his body. He moved with such power and grace. He carried himself unlike any other man I had met. Strength coiled with every step, his shoulders softly rocking with his strides.

The path opened to a clearing bathed in cool light. Glass panels arched overhead, framing the stars, while the ground, covered in moss, cradled a small pond. Purple spires of flowers swayed alongside delicate lilies, their petals glowing like fragile cups of light.

Kallias paused, sinking to the earth, his mantle shifting with the movement. One leg stretched out, the other bent, his arm draped across his knee. The moon’s silver glow caught his face, softening the sharp lines and the tension he carried.

Exhilaration rushed through me. A king was at my knees.

I sank down beside him, my thigh brushing his. We turned to the stars that winked down at us. They seemed to laugh at how close we were, and yet so far. It clawed at my heart, tearing pieces from it. Wanton desire mixed with a sense of duty and loyalty .

“Do you ever dream of being a common man?” The words slipped out, softer than I’d intended.

He didn’t answer at first. The stillness stretched, his gaze fixed on the stars as though they held the answers.

“I think it best not to dwell on what can’t be.” His voice carried a soft resignation. “I was born a prince, destined to be king. Just as you are a princess who will one day be queen.”

“But not yours.”

His breath caught.

“No.”

The quiet honesty of the word gutted me, even though I’d expected it. A lump clogged my throat, and I blinked hard against the blur of stars overhead.

“Do you have regrets?” My voice wavered, but I couldn’t bring myself to face him.

“Many,” he said at last, his tone rough with something unspoken. “But you are not one of them.”

I turned to him, searching his profile for the truth behind the words. His jaw tightened as though holding back more than he’d let escape.

“And you? Do you regret coming to Radaan?”

My lips twitched into a bitter smile. “My only regret is settling for the prince when I could have had the king.”

His mantle caught my eye, glinting. My hand lifted, fingers brushing the intricate links. His gaze dropped, tracking the motion.

“I would not have taken another bride,” he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. “I’ve been down that road. It’s a miserable affair.”

“With the wrong person.”

His eyes snapped to mine, piercing and unyielding. “Sometimes, we don’t get the person we want.”

A single link fell free beneath my fingers, the quiet sound like a challenge to the silence between us.

His breath came measured, deliberate, though his nostrils flared as I undid another link. Chain by chain, I peeled the weight from his shoulders, freeing him from his obligation piece by piece.

The mantle clanked against the moss as I set it down, ringing in accusation, calling out for him to put a stop to this. It was heavier than I’d expected. It wasn’t just gold, but something far more profound—the yoke of his duty, the burden of a kingdom. My hands trembled as I turned back to him, my chest tight with emotion.

What I wanted, the king of Radaan couldn’t give .

He let me struggle with it, either unable to relieve himself of the yoke, or needing to see me take it from him. My fingers twisted in my skirt as I fought to steady them, his quiet focus never leaving me.

“Kiss me.”

His eyelids fell shut, his face screwed in anguish. The line of his jaw twinged, as though he were wrestling an internal battle.

When those cornflower blue eyes returned to mine, something broke in him. I knew I had won.

He reached for me, his hand warm as it tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck, drawing me closer. I melted into him, our lips brushing in a kiss so tender it ached. This was not the desperate, consuming heat we had shared before. This was sorrow incarnate—a language of everything unsaid and every promise we could never keep.

He pulled me down, the soft press of the earth at my back as he curled beside me, leaning over me like a shield. His lips hovered, warm and hesitant, brushing mine with a question and a plea. His breath, spiced with wine, fanned over my face as his mouth trailed over my cheek, pausing to capture a tear sliding free.

Anger burned, hot and wild. This wasn’t fair. We weren’t fair. My fingers trembled as they fumbled for the buttons of his overcoat. One by one, they gave way, releasing the tension beneath my touch. His lips found mine again, this time firmer, hungrier, as though answering the fury in my grasp.

I tugged the hem of his tunic free, and his breath hitched as I slid my palms underneath, pressing against bare, taut skin. His muscles tensed, his body betraying him even as his mind resisted. He froze, shivering when I moved my hands higher, tracing the ridges of his stomach.

Breaking the kiss, his head fell forward, forehead brushing mine as his breaths came in shallow bursts. He trembled above me, his restraint pressing down like an unspoken force.

His fear struck me harder than words ever could. The king of Radaan, a man forged in fire and battle, was terrified—of me. My heart shattered under the realization.

Eldeiade’s cruelty ran deep. I hated her with every fiber of my being. How could I fix what she had broken? I couldn’t be his queen, could never right her wrongs.

I pushed against his chest, and his startled gaze locked with mine. Pain flickered there, raw and unguarded, but he allowed me to strip away his tunic and overcoat.

Kallias kneeled before me, bare to the moonlight, his hands braced on his thighs. Shadows softened his form, but the power in his frame was unmistakable. Light hairs scattered across his chest, rising and falling with his uneven breaths. My eyes wandered lower, tracing the hard planes of his abdomen, the dip of strength along his sides, and the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his belt.

He tensed, and I looked up, meeting the vulnerability in his gaze. I despised the doubt I found there, the fear that I might push him away. Reaching out, I pressed a hand to his chest, urging him back until he lay under me. His hands clung to my waist, and when I tried to pry them off, he shook his head.

“Let me touch you.” The plea was husky with need.

“I’m not going anywhere, Kallias,” I murmured, leaning forward, settling my weight along his hips.

“Elohios, spare me.”

He groaned, a low, guttural sound that stirred something primal within me. I kissed the edge of his jaw, trailing downward to his chest, tasting the salt of my own tears mingled with the faint musk of his skin.

“Grant me strength,” he pleaded through clenched teeth.

I smirked. “Oh, he already did that.”

Beneath me, his body quivered, every muscle wound tight, as though bracing against the pull of what he wanted but couldn’t take. His fingers dug into my sides, as if he feared to move them.

When I reached for his belt, his hand caught my wrist in a grip that bordered on bruising. His breaths came in pants, and he arched into my touch, his body demanding I continue—but passion hadn’t clouded all of his sense. His voice was hoarse, trembling on the edge of control. “No.”

The word cut deeper than I expected, and when I glanced up, fear shadowed his features.

“I’m not her, Kallias,” I whispered. “I would never hurt you. Not now. Not ever.”

His eyes closed as if he were praying for strength, but when he looked at me again, his expression hardened. “That is why it cannot be.”

I wasn’t his queen.

I would belong to Tallon.

Fury surged through me, sharp and blistering, clearing the haze of desire clouding my mind. I could no longer stomach the thought of lying with him. Duty or not, there would be no bed shared with the prince. If I had to, I would fight him off with a knife or a dragon—but I would not let him defile me. A ceremony would bind our hands together, but my heart—and my body—would never be his.

“Take me.”

“I cannot!” His voice broke, desperate, as he tried to pull away.

I grasped his belt, fingers digging into the leather. “I will have no other as my first, Kallias. You were my first kiss. ”

He pried my hand off, a twitch of pain flickering in his eyes. He shoved me with gentle force, rising to his knees, wincing as his body shifted. His mouth pressed to my forehead—tender, chaste—and a wave of sorrow swept through me.

“And you will be my last.” His voice trembled as he lifted my chin, his lips meeting mine with a quiet finality. “But I cannot be that for you.”

A dagger of anguish pierced through me. Why couldn’t I have just one more stolen moment with him? His refusal twisted inside me, sharper than any wound. My chest hollowed as I struggled for breath, the weight of it suffocating. I wanted to scream, tear out my hair. This wasn’t how my life was supposed to unfold.

“You would have me return to the palace,” I spat, fury rising within, “and spread my legs for your son–”

“No!” His roar cracked through the night, making me flinch. “I would have you feed your people! Secure peace for Radaan!” His voice broke, his hands curling into fists. “Do you think this is easy for me? That I don’t burn for you every moment, knowing I can never have you?”

“Then do not let him take me!” I choked out, the words trembling with desperation. “Write my father–”

“Yes, I’ll write your father , Dragon King of Draconia, and tell him that after swearing my blood-oath to protect his daughter, after promising my son would marry her, I’ve changed my mind and want her in my bed instead.”

“It would be the truth.”

He choked out a bitter laugh, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re not helping.” With a quick, sharp movement, he shot to his feet and grabbed his tunic. “What do you think your father would do?”

I already knew the answer. That’s why I’d never dared mention it. Kallias had given his word—sealed it with blood and his signet. His promise was a binding oath, one that tied his people to him. To go back now would break Draconia’s trust, and it would bring dragonfire down on Radaan.

And if my father discovered our deceit—if he learned I had kissed and nearly lain with a man when I was promised to another? As both a parent and a king, he wouldn’t rest until he shed blood.

“There’s your answer, Nienna,” Kallias said, pulling his tunic over his head. “That’s why I cannot write him. No matter how badly I want you, I can’t have you. You’ll marry Tallon, bring your dragons, and provide for your people.”

Tears blurred my vision “I don’t love him.”

“I know,” he said, his voice tinged with something more than regret. “But you don’t have to love someone to wed them. ”

Silence fell between us, heavy and suffocating. I wanted to scream, to claw at the injustice that had woven itself into the fabric of our lives. Instead, I whispered, “How can I marry someone when my heart belongs to another?”

He froze, his words brittle. “You don’t love me, Nienna. You cannot.”

The force of his denial crushed my chest, and tears seared icy paths down my cheeks. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to breathe through the ache.

“Tell that to my heart, Kallias!” My voice cracked as I hauled myself upright. He extended a hand, but I refused it, stepping back as though his touch might shatter me completely. “Tell that to my soul when you’re the first thing I think of when I wake. When I look for you throughout the day just hoping for a glimpse of your mantle. Tell me that when I lie awake at night, consumed by a fire only you could quench.”

The words tumbled out, raw and unforgiving, as I swiped furiously at my tears. I despised the way he stood there, fists tight at his sides, his restraint as unyielding as the chains of his duty.

“You don’t get to tell me who I can love,” I said, my voice trembling with defiance. “My heart is mine to give.”

Turning away, I dragged each step down the moonlit path, the foliage dissolving into a blur around me.

Just before the darkness swallowed me, I whispered to the night, “And it’s yours to break.”