Page 34 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Kallias

M y jaw throbbed from clenching too often. Every time Nienna crossed my path, I swallowed my emotions like bitter poison. The maddening urge to seize her, to tell her everything had been a mistake, clawed at me. I wanted to spirit her away, far from duty and consequence.

But there was no escape.

I was a widowed king. She, a princess, promised to my son. Her father was a man of ferocious love and boundless rage. To suggest a change to the alliance would do more than stain my honor. It was a direct act of war that would risk dragonfire.

Disgust coiled in my stomach. I dragged a hand down my face, my fingers digging into my eyes as though I could rub away the shame. What kind of man would allow his daughter to marry someone twice her age? Worse, she had been here for weeks—enough time for a predator to circle, exploiting her innocence and naivety.

That predator was me.

A monster.

Lusting after her.

Elohios must have turned his blessing from me long ago. Perhaps this was some cruel test from the gods, one I had already failed.

Guilt gnawed at me, unraveling what little remained of my sanity. Stolen moments weren’t worth the damage they caused, and yet, when she passed me in the halls? The rejection in her eyes splintered what was left of my heart .

She treated me with deliberate indifference, cold as frost on glass. Even Clay and Gayle noticed it the next morning at breakfast.

Our legs stayed tucked beneath our chairs, the space between us never crossed. She angled herself just enough to avoid seeing me without effort.

And she succeeded.

The absence of her attention consumed me in ways I hadn’t imagined possible. I thought I cherished her company before, but now her memory haunted me. Dreams of her depthless eyes, hair spun gold, and those rare, radiant smiles filled my nights.

My soul yearned for her gaze to meet mine again. One more smile. One more touch.

I needed it like I needed physical food.

A deep breath stretched the ache in my chest as I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees, hands folded against my mouth. The library floor, scarred and worn, offered no answers.

She was in pain. I could see it in her face, raw and unshielded when she thought nobody watched. She played her role, crafting the polished smile of a princess, but it never touched her eyes. I wanted to punish whoever hurt her. I craved their blood on my hands.

But I was to blame.

When had I started to mislead her? At our first dance, when I downed a glass of wine for courage? Or earlier, when I let her kiss me instead of Tallon?

The memory of fire blazed to life—the heat of her magic searing the air. It burned, a miracle it hadn’t set the palace aflame.

It was also a vivid reminder of my end if her father ever learned what passed between us.

“I don’t think it warrants a sigh like that.”

Clay’s voice cut through the haze of my thoughts. My gaze drifted upward to find him at his desk, a faint frown creasing his brow. I did not respond, didn’t even shift. Every nerve in me screamed to rage, to storm through the halls, to pull Nienna into my arms and beg her forgiveness—to take her to my bed and atone in ways that words never could.

Instead, I froze. My control felt thin, brittle. Trusting my voice or my body would lead to disaster.

“Really, the production of my milk goats hardly deserves such a dour expression.”

His taunt swept past me, faint as a breeze against stone. My eyes dropped to the worn floorboards, though my thoughts turned inward, unspooling the chaos I made of my life. There was no salvaging it. The only path left led forward into a pit of my own making .

Forgiveness from her was a dream. I could only hope for absolution from the gods—and that my people never uncovered the truth.

There would be nothing more between us. No stolen moments. No hushed confessions on shadowed balconies. I ended it, told her I couldn’t give her anything else.

What arrogance made me think she wouldn’t want more?

I did. The longing gnawed at me. If it consumed me like this, how much worse must it burn for her? I fed her fire with secret kisses and touches, stringing her along for nothing more than my selfish desires.

Now she would despise me. Between her disdain and Tallon’s wrath, the palace might as well become a battlefield.

Tallon. Gods, if he found out.

A sharp pang struck my chest. He opposed the alliance from the beginning, scorning Draconia and my plans for peace. Suspicion burned behind his narrowed gaze, his mind churning with doubt.

He’d accused me outright of bedding her, though he had no proof.

Clay and Gayle had their suspicions, but only Greaves saw the truth. The Sol dance—a tradition meant to symbolize unity—had been nothing more than an innocent cultural exchange. Or so I tried to tell myself.

The signs were obvious. Too obvious. Even Darius noticed something amiss. Tallon’s accusations lingered, waiting for the slightest spark to ignite into fury.

Greaves remained loyal, but all it would take was one word from Nienna, intentional or not.

Frustration surged, hot and unwieldy. A guttural groan escaped as I shoved my hands into my hair, yanking at the roots in an attempt to drown out my spiraling thoughts.

“Wigs!” Clay exclaimed, his voice bright with sudden inspiration. He snapped his fingers. “The Kuh’lir’s hair—it’s perfect! The way you’re pulling yours out, you could be the first customer! Start a new trend. Help a friend out.”

“Stop.” My tone dropped to a low warning.

“Is that what she said?”

My control shattered. “No more!” I lurched to my feet, fury uncoiling like a serpent. “You and your meddling have done enough damage. When I tell you to stop, I expect you to heed your king’s command and close your withering mouth!”

The words flew out before I could pull them back. My anger spilled over, reckless and misdirected. It wasn’t Clay who deserved my wrath. It was me.

He leaned in his chair, his expression unreadable. When he set his quill down with deliberate care, he folded his hands over his knee.

Silence stretched between us like a taut string before he spoke. “Apologies, Your Majesty. I meant no insult. ”

Liar.

The stiffness in Clay’s apology stoked the fire already raging inside me. His lie mirrored my own. I lived as a fraud—pretending to be a noble king while slipping through shadows to meet Nienna. Feigning fatherly concern while my actions desecrated the honor of my son’s betrothed.

I pivoted, teeth bared in a snarl—and locked eyes with Greaves. His glare struck with the force of a slap.

A growl escaped as I stormed past him. “Yes, I know. Such a disappointment.”

“Kallias–”

Clay’s protest was cut short by a bellow of a horn. The deep, mournful note swept over the mountainside, reverberating through stone and marrow. We froze, the breath stolen from the room.

Dread crept in, cold as a knife pressed to the skin. The echoes lingered, each one promising death.

Elohios.

The horn blared again. Clay shot to his feet, the room erupting into chaos.

“I didn’t know!” His voice strained to rise above the relentless blast.

Greaves closed the space between us in an instant, gripping my arm. “Call for the Threshers!”

“They’ll never make it in time.” My words emerged steady, unnatural calm overtaking the storm within me.

“They’re nothing but whispers now!” Clay’s disbelief spilled out as he jogged over. “Scattered sightings in the Craggs—they haven’t crossed the Andeluith in decades!”

The horn’s cry faded, leaving a suffocating stillness in its wake.

“Ready what soldiers you can,” I ordered, swallowing the bile that rose with my fear. “I ride within the hour.”

Clay clasped my shoulder, its pressure both grounding and infuriating. “Elohios be with you, friend.”

I shrugged his hand off and strode toward the door. “He forsook me long ago. We both know that.”

The truth settled over me like a shroud. My sins ran too deep, my deceit too entrenched. Now the whole of Radaan would see the cost.

I shoved through the study doors, rounding the corner with determined steps.

Nienna appeared in the corridor, halting when she saw me. Her lips parted, but no words came. Confusion shimmered in her gaze before she blinked it away, locking her emotions behind an unreadable mask.

“What’s happening?” she asked, her tone careful, her body pulling back.

“A mammoth has been sighted.” I moved past her without pause, boots striking the floor with hard finality .

“He’s going to kill it?” she asked.

Clay answered, his words steeped in resignation. “He has no choice. He is the king. The Protector of Radaan, blessed by Elohios.”

If only I still held the gods’ blessing.

A golden spear thrust toward the heavens, its polished shaft catching the sunlight. The gleaming surface mocked me, its reflection echoing the royal armor I wore.

As I stepped through the manor gates, my stride faltered. Nienna stood at the base of the stairs, her figure framed by the blazing sky. She turned as if sensing me, her hair catching the light and casting her face in a warm glow that made my chest tighten.

Shoving hesitation aside, I gripped the spear tighter, its weight digging into my palm.

Five horses pawed the ground nearby, their bridles jingling. Each mount bore a saddle, ready for its rider: the king of Radaan, Greaves, the lord and lady of the manor—and Nienna.

The thought of her witnessing my failure churned my stomach. It wasn’t Radaan’s citizens who worried me most. It was her. She would watch me either fight to the death, or be the shame of my people. Somehow that made it worse than my citizens seeing it.

Greaves lingered at my side, his quiet presence unshakable. He strapped the golden plate onto me earlier. It hadn’t been worn since the last battle with Vellos. Its weight dragged at my shoulders, every motion chafing at my unworthy body.

“He’s slain his share,” I overheard Gayle whisper to Nienna as I passed them. “You’ll see his blessing for yourself.”

Blessing. The word rang hollow in my ears. She wouldn’t detect light or divine favor. She would witness my end.

Clinging to what honor remained, I halted before Claydon’sol, standing tall despite the tremor in my spirit. My fist struck my chest with a metallic clang, the sound sharp in the still courtyard. With a low bow, I declared, “The call for aid has been heard. The King of Radaan answers.”

“Elohios bless you,” he replied, returning the bow.

I climbed into the saddle, resting the spear within reach. Greaves swung up onto his horse beside me, covered in black armor. Always my shadow, even in the midday light .

Before the others settled into their saddles, I guided my mount down the path, leaving them to catch up. My thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome, drifted to Nienna. She sat astride a horse–not a mule–on the narrow trail.

Enough. I shoved the image away, locking it in a mental vault. If I survived, I could worry about her safety then.

This wasn’t my first encounter with a mammoth. Six of the beasts had fallen by my blade. The creatures towered above, their tusks as thick as a man’s torso and twice as long, bearing a faint resemblance to boars. But their similarity ended with their shape. A mammoth’s rage dwarfed any beast’s fury.

They didn’t just lash out when provoked. They sought life to snuff it out. Villages, forests, even herds of animals—nothing was spared. Once roused, they wouldn’t stop until every living thing within reach lay lifeless. It wasn’t madness; it was annihilation.

I flexed my hand, glancing down as if I could see the tanned and weathered skin under the gauntlet. Elohios showed his blessing with light. Soldiers had seen firsthand their king glow with the radiance of the sun, blinding the enemy. I fought by that light, used it to my advantage.

But not now.

There would be no radiance. Only a hollow truth. If I failed, it would confirm what I already knew: I was no longer blessed. To live as a king stripped of his god’s favor would be a fate worse than death.

Even so, to wish for an end was to surrender Radaan to Tallon. His reckless ambitions would unravel everything. Nienna wasn’t bound to him yet; his power had no anchor. Without me, the kingdom would fall into chaos.

Doom pressed in from all sides. There was no victory here, only choices that led to ruin.

The road to the foothills teemed with people. They lined the path, their cheers swelling like a tide that grated against my ears. I urged my horse forward, its hooves skidding on the steep descent. This wasn’t the king they welcomed with revelry days ago. That man stayed behind. Now, I was the warrior that would protect them.

My horse’s muscles bunched and stretched beneath me as I adjusted the reins, steadying its stride. Foam flecked its neck, streaking through sweat as the foothills drew closer. The sun slanted low, casting long shadows, but there would be no pause until the mammoth fell.

Clay took the lead once we crossed the precarious wooden bridges spanning the land’s deep gorges. The structures groaned beneath our mounts, and the wind keened through the narrow ravines. I hated this place. Years ago, it nearly claimed my life during a battle with a Velli. Today, it might claim more than just me .

The mammoth waited somewhere to the south, between us and Reem. It needed to die before it reached the villages.

When the land leveled out, our horses surged into a gallop, hooves pounding the earth as we wove through shallow valleys and twisting roads. The townsfolk here moved with frantic energy, darting toward flimsy shelters. They weren’t cradled in the safety of mountains but stranded in the open, vulnerable to the beast’s wrath.

We skirted the Andeluith, racing for Lume. Its northern gates stood wide, a silent summons as we thundered through the opening in the oak walls. The streets lay empty, a sanctuary carved from fear.

Our horses heaved for breath by the time we reached the lord’s estate. The guards Clay assembled waited outside, their weapons gleaming in the dimming light. As I reined my horse to a stop, the ornate double doors swung open. An elderly man in fine robes emerged, bowing low, with a fist pressed to his chest. I mirrored the gesture, though my thoughts churned with urgency.

“You’ve called for aid!” My voice cut through the huffing of the horses.

“Beyond the southern gates, Your Majesty!” the man shouted. “A mammoth is tearing through the outlying villages!”

Wasting no time, I spun my horse and signaled Greaves to follow. Hooves hammered the ground as we turned toward the southern road.

“Princess, no!” Gayle’s shout broke through the clamor.

A quick glance back showed Nienna pulling hard on her reins, her face pale, her wide eyes betraying panic.

“I’ve seen dragons dismember–”

“You’ll get in his way!” Clay’s sharp voice cut her off as her horse shifted beneath her.

I didn’t bother trying to dissuade her with reason. Nienna couldn’t be scared into submission or cowed by tradition. Telling her the battle would be too bloody or improper would only strengthen her resolve. The only truth that could hold her back was that she might hinder me.

With a final glance, I turned away, leaning low over my horse’s neck to spur it into a gallop. The estate vanished behind us, taking Nienna with it.

Greaves remained at my side, his silent loyalty unbroken, but a shadow of doubt followed me. It wasn’t the fear of a king losing a princess. It was something deeper, more fragile—the terror of a man leaving the woman he loved behind, knowing he might not return.

Screams reached us before the devastation came into view.

A chorus of terrified cries rose over the treetops, mingling with the thunder of hooves. Two massive draft horses burst from the tree line, their coats lathered in sweat and their eyes wild with panic. They veered, their movements frantic, as if fleeing the shadow of death itself. My horse sidestepped, nostrils flaring at their scent.

Ahead, the village crouched at the forest’s fringe, its rooftops quaking from the distant crashes. I whirled my mount around, steering toward the chaos. The edge of the woods loomed in the distance—a battleground I preferred. There, the trees would force the beast to fight not just me, but the forest itself.

The sharp squeal of splitting timbers rent the atmosphere. My horse surged forward at my command, hooves pounding into the earth. A woman stumbled from a side street clutching a crying infant. Two children ran after her, their small legs pumping to keep pace.

“My king!” she shouted, her eyes locking on the green-and-gold banner of Radaan.

I spurred my mount past her, unwilling to waste time. Smoke curled skyward, and the village’s cries grew sharper, the clash of collapsing buildings echoing through narrow streets. Anger burned in my chest as I turned toward the destruction, cursing the beast for breaking through the village’s heart.

The ground trembled as I rounded another corner, and then I saw it: the mammoth. A living mountain of muscle and rage. Its tusks, red with blood, swept through the ruins, crushing what little remained of the shops and homes. Bodies lay strewn in its wake, some half-buried beneath rubble, others painted in crimson. Flames licked at the skeletal remains of a building, their heat pressing against my face as I rode closer.

The mammoth’s sheer size staggered me—a towering behemoth, four wagons wide, its legs thick as tree trunks. Its shadow swallowed the ground. For a fleeting moment, the crushing reality of my mortality shattered my resolve. What was my frail human body against such overwhelming might? But I was King Kallias of the Plentiful Plains. Protector of Radaan. Golden Warrior of Elohios. I would not bow to fear.

I roared, drawing my spear and leveling it beneath my arm.

The beast turned, hooves smashing through rubble as it barreled toward me. Behind me, soldiers fanned out, but none moved to engage. This was my fight. My duty. A boy darted from the debris ahead, his small form scrambling for shelter. The mammoth’s head snapped his way, tusks lowering.

I kicked hard, driving my stallion into its path. The beast charged, and the earth quaked. My weapon gleamed in the sunlight as I swung its tip upward. My horse faltered, tripping over splintered wood, and the mammoth crashed into us .

I flew from the saddle, the air stolen from my lungs as I planted my spear in its chest. The beast’s bellow shook the sky. My horse’s scream ended, a massive hoof crushing its skull. I gripped the weapon, its shaft pressing into my palms as the mammoth charged forward, pulling me with brutal ease. My armor scraped against the ground, every jolt threatening to rip me free.

Pain flared through my body as rubble struck the rim of my pauldron, wrenching my shoulder. With my legs twisted around the spear’s shaft, I drove it into the earth. The point sank deeper into the beast’s hide, hitting muscle and bone.

The mammoth shrieked, rearing, its massive head swinging. I lost my grip and flew, crashing into a crumbling wall. Wood splintered against my back, and darkness swallowed my vision.

When the world returned, the mammoth’s bloodied tusks loomed before me. Its breath came hot and rancid, filling the narrow space. I dove forward, sliding beneath its forelegs. The scent of dirt and sweat clung to its flesh, mingling with the metallic tang of fresh blood.

It wheeled, hooves scattering debris, but I grabbed my weapon. Heat poured over me as the mammoth’s chest spilled crimson, hot and sticky, soaking my armor. I wrenched it free, stumbling as the creature recoiled.

I barely wiped my eyes before it lunged. Something stabbed into its shoulder, sending it spinning out of my path. I dropped, narrowly avoiding Greaves’ spear shaft as it whizzed by. After I shoved myself upright, I sprinted for the stone well, desperate to get off the ground.

The ruins of a house crumbled beneath my feet as I charged toward the small structure. Grunting, I scrambled up the jagged stones and spun to face the mammoth.

It was already on me, its massive tusk swinging in my direction. I raised my arm, catching the ivory in my elbow. The force wrenched me, pulling me off my feet. I swung my spear into the soft flesh of its snout.

With a deafening roar, it jerked its head, tossing me aside. I slammed into a wooden beam, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. My plate armor dug into my back, sending waves of pain through every inch of me.

Agony ripped through me, my chest arched toward the sky. I gasped for breath, but my body refused to cooperate. Air wouldn’t come. Gritting my teeth, I rolled to my stomach. Blood stung my eyes as I blinked, meeting the creature’s frenzied gaze.

It pawed the dirt once.

Greaves shouted, charging the beast with swords flashing.

Arrows sank into the thick hide, little more than a nuisance.

The mammoth lowered its head and charged. Scarlet tusks swept aside bodies and rubble. It barreled toward me, and I couldn’t move .

Tallon would rule. Radaan needed me. Nienna needed me. I wasn’t ready to die.

Air finally rushed into my chest. I twisted and whipped my spear up. It caught in the beast’s mouth, grinding against its teeth. The mammoth jerked its head to the side, flinging me.

I crashed into a wall of flesh. A horse backed away, snorting in fear, as I rolled to my back. A soldier’s silhouette loomed above me. He raised his bow, terror etched across his face.

A Radaanian soldier who relied on my protection. I protected what was mine.

I struggled to my knees, then hefted my spear. Greaves was behind the mammoth, running toward it. The beast faced me, panting hard, crimson dribbling from its mouth and chest. Elohios had abandoned me. This was my punishment for my sins, and I’d face it.

It shook its head, blood splattering from its tusks.

I pushed to my feet.

We both breathed heavily, knowing one of us wouldn’t survive the next clash.

Then, we charged.

The beast screamed as I lunged forward. A heap of smoldering ruin stood between us, and I launched myself up it, propelling into the air.

Light erupted from the cracks in my armor. The mammoth ducked, blinded by the radiance. That brief movement gave me my chance. I slammed my spear into the soft tissue at the base of its skull.

The weapon sank deep into the spine, jarring against the vertebrae. The beast twisted as the shaft drove deeper, past shifting bones. It convulsed, then crashed to the ground. I tightened my grip, refusing to let go.

Short legs buckled beneath its weight. With a groan, the mammoth collapsed. I gave the spear a brutal twist to ensure it was dead. It twitched once, then lay still.

My limbs trembled as I sank to my knees against the rough hide. Armor scraped against wiry hair.

Shaking, I loosened the buckle on my gauntlet, my throat tight as I yanked it off.

Weathered, calloused skin glowed with the light of the sun. Warm. Assuring. A shudder ran through me, and I slumped forward, eyes burning.

“Elohios be glorified,” I whispered, tears carving trails through the blood on my face. He had not forsaken me.

Greaves reached me, his hands fumbling at my chestplate. “You did it, Kal. Radaan is safe.”

The heavy plate slid off the beast, crashing into a pool of crimson .

Light erupted from my chest, seeping through the layers of padded clothing as if they weren’t there.

“Rise, Golden Warrior, Chosen of Elohios.” Greaves’ words pulled me to my feet. I rose, bracing my boots upon the fallen mammoth, and cheers rose from the crowd.

Civilians and warriors stood side by side. Soldiers pressed their fists over their hearts in salute. Commoners cheered, their cries interspersed with sobs as families clung to each other.

The light beneath my skin flickered once, flaring with power before it blinked out. Just like before. As if nothing had changed. As if the only difference in this fight had been my doubt.

I turned my face to the sky, my soul stretching outward, searching for answers. Had I been forgiven without asking? Had I been shown mercy? The deception of my relationship with Nienna churned in my gut—so vile, so wrong. Yet Elohios had still granted his blessing.

I was the Protector of Radaan. King of the Plentiful Plains. Golden Warrior, chosen by Elohios.

A confused soul.