Page 37 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Nienna

M y stomach coiled into knots whenever Tallon drew near, the sensation more than just ire laced with disgust. He thrived on finding excuses to linger, wedging himself between Kallias and me, his mere presence chilling my blood.

The cold wasn’t metaphorical.

That creeping, unnatural impression I once associated with Egath now clung to Tallon. It lacked the intensity of Egath’s venomous grip, but it lingered. An echo—a faint prickling where there should have been warmth.

With Kallias, my blood pulsed with fiery longing, a symphony of passion luring me toward him like a siren’s song. Tallon’s presence warped that melody into something rancid. My veins churned and rebelled, twisting under the weight of a wrongness I couldn’t shake.

When we returned to Reem, I forced myself to ride beside him. At dinner, nausea clawed at my stomach as his wicked smile landed on me, his expression too knowing. He seemed to relish my discomfort, feeding on it as predator devours prey.

Escape wasn’t an option. Kallias had pulled away after the celebration of life, leaving our garden conversation to fester. Those confessions of what could never be hung in the air like a shadow. The ritual we’d shared was nothing more than a gesture to appease the gods, a cold transaction.

Once spoken, words could not be undone.

I had laid my heart bare, and he turned me away .

There would never be an ‘ us.’ There would only be the facade of Tallon and me, the prince and princess bound by title. A union devoid of love. The thought of our wedding night filled me with dread, the idea of bearing his heir more revolting than I could stomach.

Bile burned its way up my throat.

Tallon’s appearance was everything one might desire. His raven-black hair gleamed, his emerald eyes glittered with a predatory sharpness. High cheekbones framed a chiseled jawline, blending boyish charm with the wiry strength of a man. Women everywhere would have fallen at his feet.

But whatever beauty nature had bestowed was undone by the vileness coursing through his heart.

His hair was as dark as his soul. His eyes gleamed with a vile, greedy hatred. Full lips were always mocking—leering at others. His straight nose was constantly lifted in a sneer.

When we arrived at the palace, I searched for Fyrn at once. I found her in the gardens, reclining on a bench with a book, the sunlight giving her cheeks a healthy flush.

“Nienna!” she exclaimed as I approached, her face lighting up. “How was the trip?”

Her warmth eased the tension swirling inside me. Smiling, I clasped her hand and gave her a quick once-over. “It went well. Are you feeling better?”

“Oh, yes.” She laughed and tugged me onto the bench surrounded by fragrant rose bushes. “The servants must be relieved. I doubt they stopped scrubbing the floors for days.”

Her eyes flicked to the Thresher lingering in the shadows, his watchful presence as constant as my own shadow.

“He refuses to leave,” I said with a frustrated sigh, turning my body to block him from view. “But how did you manage to not tell me how amazing your home is?”

“You liked it?” Her lips quirked. “My parents at least invited a few lesser nobles to liven up that cave?”

“No. Just us.”

Her brow furrowed, and she pressed a hand to her forehead. “But they must have used the receiving hall! And for the love of Veridis—please tell me they prepared the dining room?”

“They welcomed us to the kitchen.” I tilted my head, fighting a laugh as her expression crumpled in dismay.

“The king too?”

“He didn’t seem to mind.” In truth, the informal setting soothed his usual severity .

Fyrn groaned and buried her face in her palms. “They can’t do anything right!”

“It was nice.” I pulled her hand from her cheek and leaned closer to catch her gaze. “I needed the escape. The high court, the nobles, the crown—”

Tallon.

“—It was exactly what I desired,” I said, resting my fingers over hers. “I only wish you’d been there to share it.”

Her lips twisted with amusement. “Did they at least show you the city, or did my father corner you in his study to prattle on about his precious goats?”

I leaned back against the bench, the roses nearby lending their fragrance to the soft hum of the garden. “We visited Sol.” My words hesitated on the edge of more. How much could I reveal? Would mentioning the dance betray anything?

“Is the dance hall finished?” Her voice carried a flicker of nostalgia, tempered by wariness. “It was nearly done before I left, and Father wanted it completed before his return.”

“It’s magnificent. You have to see it yourself.”

“Never would be too soon,” she snapped, then softened, closing her book with a resigned sigh.

Her gaze turned distant. “You’ve seen the best Sol has to offer. I was never so fortunate. Trapped in cold, barren halls, with only servants and my mother for company. I endured the years when war brought waves of wounded to our door. My father opened his halls, but there aren’t enough tapestries in the world to muffle the echoing screams of the dying.”

Her words struck like a chilled wind, the raw pain in them unmistakable. “I’m sorry.” My throat tightened. Her childhood had been swallowed by bloodshed, each memory marred by suffering.

“That’s why I’ll never go back.” Her hands smoothed her dress as she drew a steadying breath, eyes settling on the flowers. “That place holds nothing for me but sorrow.” Her tone shifted. “Tallon joined you?”

“After the king felled a mammoth.”

She tilted her head, curiosity sharpening her features. “The Great Hunt? Is he well?”

I hesitated, the image of Kallias’ pain flashing in my mind. His every movement spoke of discomfort—the grimace when he dismounted, the moment his hand braced against the saddle for balance. Scratches marred his skin, but his strength remained unbroken.

But I shouldn’t know that.

“He’s alive and appears well enough,” I replied, keeping my voice even.

“It must have been his first time seeing a mammoth. Did he tell you about it? ”

My frown deepened. “Oh, you mean the prince,” I said, catching on. “No, he arrived after the slaying.”

Relief softened her shoulders as she glanced down at the book in her lap. “Those beasts should have been hunted to extinction long ago. The king’s chosen to face them, but Tallon is Radaan’s future, and he’s never even laid eyes on one. How can you prepare to kill what you’ve never confronted?”

He could have seen it—if he’d been with us. He likely avoided the creature, leaving the burden to his father.

“I don’t mean to upset you.” Her quiet words pulled my focus back. Worry flickered in her gaze. “I’m sure he could kill one if it came to it.”

Could he? I doubted that.

Her eyes studied mine, her brows knitting with concern. “Did something happen between you two?”

I shifted, casting a glance toward the Thresher lurking too near. “No—we are still set to be wed,” I said, each word chosen with care.

Everything happened. Yet nothing changed. My heart remained trapped beneath the weight of duty, my future a tether I could not sever.

She seemed to read the resignation in my tone, the bitter acceptance that colored it. Silence settled between us, broken only by the faint rustle of the garden. Flowers dipped and swayed in the breeze, their petals kissed by the sun. Insects darted through beams of light, their wings catching flashes of gold.

I could not escape him. Tallon was my future, no matter how much I wished otherwise.

Egath sat on my right, his presence looming like a storm cloud. I prodded a bean across my plate, nausea rising in waves I struggled to suppress. His words flowed past me to Tallon, their conversation a tempest with me as the lone, stranded island.

Fallione had secured Egath’s release. No evidence tied him to the assassination attempt, and the ambassador’s threats to return to Vellos forced the king’s hand. Egath claimed his confinement was unjust, a mistreatment that would strain relations with the Velli king.

Kallias simmered at the far end of the table, his anger a silent flame. I kept my gaze fixed downward, reminding myself of the chasm between us. Future relatives—nothing more. Twin islands, each battered by different storms.

A ripple beneath my skin startled me. My pulse surged as something squirmed inside my forearm. Had I caught worms? Turning my arm, I traced the spot with trembling fingers.

“Everything all right, Princess?” Egath asked, his fork poised over a chunk of beef.

“Just an itch,” I replied, forcing a thin smile. I noted the flicker in his gaze—a quick glance at Tallon before his attention dropped to his plate.

“I hope you avoided the mountain plants,” he said. “Some will have you scratching for weeks.” His knife sliced through the meat with deliberate precision.

The shift in his demeanor unsettled me. Politeness had replaced his usual barbs, as if I passed some unspoken test.

“You didn’t wander anywhere you shouldn’t, right?” Tallon jeered.

My stomach churned at his tone, too smug to be innocent. His smirk, paired with the rise of his brows, dared me to react.

“I was with Gayle’sol almost the entire time,” I answered.

“Almost?” Egath mused, his knife scraping against the plate. “Surely they didn’t leave you alone. The Craggs are dangerous.”

“I can handle myself,” I shot back, anger simmering beneath my calm exterior. Caught between them, their words closed in, each more pointed than the last. With the prince, I could hold my ground. With Egath, every move felt like stepping onto thin ice.

“The assassination attempt a few weeks ago suggests otherwise.”

That remark shattered my fragile veneer of civility.

I spun toward Tallon, the dinner knife firm in my grip. “I took my first life that night, dear prince.” My voice barely carried beyond him, each word a venomous whisper. “His blood covered my hands. My only weapon was a pencil. Let’s see how you’d manage in my place.”

His eyes lit with that insufferable, predatory thrill, his face far too close to mine. “If you hadn’t taken a servant to bed, perhaps you would be better off.”

Heat surged through my chest, sharp and suffocating. Scythe. That word—cutting, biting—sent a painful crackle of rage along my nerves.

“I would be dead.”

His smile sharpened, a blade in itself, and still, he said nothing. Our faces hovered a breath apart, the air thick with loathing. The knife trembled in my hand, my fingers aching from the strain of restraint. Every fiber of my being craved to plunge it into him, but I held back. That would be giving him exactly what he wanted.

He sought my end—not merely my departure, but my death.

Tallon might be my future, but it would not be a long one.

“The king requests your presence in the battle hall.”

My chest tightened, but I steadied my breath and nodded. “I’ll be there shortly.”

The servant dipped into a curtsy before retreating down the corridor. My Thresher shut the door behind her with a soft click.

“He calls you for a viewing?” Edith asked, putting her knitting aside to rise to her feet.

“There haven’t been any duels or sparring matches since I arrived.” I trailed her to the dressing room, the thought twisting uneasily in my mind.

“He sparred with the prince once,” she replied, her tone carrying a hint of disdain.

That wasn’t sparring. It was discipline—deliberate. A memory of Kallias putting his son in his place surfaced, stirring a mix of nerves and satisfaction in my stomach. If only he’d do it again. Tallon deserved far worse.

But the thought soured. Days had passed without a word from him. At dinner, his gaze barely grazed mine, the cold distance growing like a chasm. Whatever had once bound us together had vanished, leaving only emptiness. He wouldn’t stand with me against his son.

“I believe that was an isolated incident,” I muttered, glancing at my dress. The long fabric concealed the blade strapped to my thigh, but the lack of slits made access cumbersome.

Edith motioned for me to sit, her hands steady as she wove a tiara braid into my hair, leaving a few loose strands to brush my shoulders. Her hum filled the silence, soft and contemplative.

Once she deemed me presentable, I followed the Thresher through the palace corridors. Each turn came to mind moments before we took it, my memory of the layout sharpening. Only one mistake slowed my stride—I’d know the way soon enough.

The battle hall’s open doorway revealed the sandy arena beyond. Greaves stood by Kallias, removing his mantle and setting it on a nearby rack. Tallon lingered off to the side, arms crossed, his glare fixed on his father. Another man, older with snow-white hair and a neatly trimmed beard, watched the scene from a distance. His intense gaze shifted to me as I descended the stairs.

Eyes, shadowed with age but fierce, scanned me from my dress to my face before sliding back to his king.

Why had I been summoned ?

“Come, Princess,” Kallias called. The deep timbre of his voice pulled at something in me, even as he avoided my gaze. Rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, he revealed forearms corded with muscle, veins ridged like paths carved into stone. Heat crept into my cheeks, and I looked away, stepping into the soft sand.

“I told him this wasn’t necessary,” Tallon muttered, shifting his weight.

The older man dressed in a loose tan tunic and brown pants scrutinized the prince’s stance with a frown. He held the composure of someone who’d seen countless soldiers come and go. His fingers twitched, as if preparing to adjust his stance, but he remained silent.

“It’s important,” Kallias replied, his tone final.

“She doesn’t need to!” Tallon snapped, a scowl twisting his features. “That’s what the Threshers are for, aren’t they?”

I glanced at the giant in black leathers towering behind me. “How can I be of service, Your Majesty?” My voice wavered, betraying the silent plea for him to meet my gaze.

“Your training is insufficient,” Kallias growled, his words sharp as the turn of his back. A flare of indignation straightened my spine.

“He wants you to wield a blade,” Tallon sneered, his tone laced with scorn. “You have the right to refuse.”

Shock prickled through me. My eyes darted to Greaves, the only one who hadn’t turned away.

A frown tugged at his brow, and he held my gaze, steady and unreadable, before passing a sword to the king.

“Do you refuse?” Kallias asked over his shoulder. The pause in his movement betrayed something deeper, but he still wouldn’t look at me.

My focus shifted back to Greaves, seeking an anchor. His small nod was a quiet reassurance, the only permission I needed.

“My father never taught me swordplay,” I said, my voice even. “I was never expected to carry one into battle.”

“There. She refuses,” Tallon sighed, his arms dropping with exaggerated relief.

“However,” I added, my tone sharper, baiting him. “As pointed out, I cannot always rely on my guards. I would welcome instruction with a dagger.”

The Thresher shifted, his weight pressing into the floorboards. I resisted the impulse to turn, to reassure him his efforts had never fallen short.

Tallon groaned. “Fine! Then you’ll train with me!”

“She trains with Jerek,” Kallias cut in, his words cold enough to frost the air. “You need the practice, Prince.”

His eyes narrowed. “Practice? For what? To fight in a war you ended? ”

Jerek, silent until now, studied me from head to toe. His gaze lingered on my arms before he shifted and murmured, “Your Majesty, I’ve never trained a woman.”

“She is more than capable,” Kallias snapped, his voice steeled with irritation.

“She’s delicate. What weapon could she possibly–”

The king whirled on him, the blade master recoiling as his fury radiated like the sun. The measured mask he wore cracked, revealing the raw temper beneath. “She was raised among dragons . Fragile is the last thing she is. She carries a blade of her own—make her use it.”

The arena stretched into silence. Greaves’ face tightened, his mouth pressed in disapproval. Tallon’s eyes flicked from me to his father, his shock evident in the part of his lips, his shrewd gaze calculating.

Kallias’ sword hung low, his grip tight, knuckles stark white against the hilt. Tension radiated from his shoulders, the anger pouring off him like heat.

“Your king gave you an order.” His voice dropped to a dangerous growl. “Maybe I should find another blade master.”

Jerek’s eyes widened, shifting to me.

This was all wrong. Kallias was Radaan’s king, but his actions didn’t reflect the man who’d always been in control. The question was, would people end up looking to me for the answers for his change in disposition—or would they come up with some other reasoning?

Jerek stepped back, bowing low, conceding to his authority. “I will train her.”

Kallias snarled, then spun away. As he turned, his eyes met mine. The fury in them cut deep, his sky blue gaze devoid of warmth. Only pain flickered there.

A dull ache spread through me. I wasn’t the only one suffering. I could cry over my own struggles—tied to Tallon when I longed for Kallias—but the truth was, his heart was breaking, too.

It was my father who signed my name to the marriage contract, but it was Kallias himself who bound his son to me. He destroyed any chance of happiness with me when he swore on his honor as a king, and gave the promise of his nation that his heir would marry me.

Whereas I was just a casualty of the agreement, Kallias had fired the arrow that pierced both our hearts.

He stormed past me. I caught Tallon’s gaze.

A cold knot of dread twisted in my stomach. His green eyes gleamed with recognition. His brow furrowed as his suspicions were validated. He knew there was something between us.

There had been something between us.

He followed his father, and the blade master crossed his arms, head tilted. “Do you have a blade, Princess?”

“Yes. ”

“Let’s see it.”

I froze. “It’s... in a discreet location.” My heart sank. The one time I chose to wear a Radaanian dress—it concealed everything I needed under it.

“If I’m to train you, I need to know what you’re fighting with.” His gaze flicked to my skirts, his neck flushing with a sudden heat.

I bit my cheek, shrugging with a raised shoulder as I tugged at the edge of my dress. I wore breeches, but Jerek’s sharp intake of breath and the shuffle of the Thresher behind me told me the sight was still improper.

My palm slid beneath the fabric, pulling free Kallias’ dagger. As I stood, the hem of my skirts kissed the sand, and I handed the weapon hilt-first to Jerek.

Small, the blade was just a touch longer than my hand. Simple gold made up the hilt, ivy winding around it with no jewels or ornamentation. It was crafted for one thing: protection.

“Where did you get that?” Tallon froze, his gaze snapping to mine, his expression hard.

I glanced at Kallias. His jaw clenched as he swung his sword with a fluid rhythm. His movements were sharp, powerful, muscles flexing beneath his tunic with each strike as he purposefully ignored the exchange.

The prince whipped toward his father, eyes burning.

“Disappointed it isn’t yours?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and both men faced me.

Kallias faltered. A quick glance shot my way before he turned his back, resuming his movements.

Tallon’s lip curled in a sneer, but he said nothing.

Relief washed over me. I wasn’t just keeping Kallias’ secrets—I was safeguarding Tallon’s, too.

I remembered the hunger in his eyes when he found the prince’s dagger on me, the bloodlust when I admitted that his son suspected something. What would he do if he knew Tallon attacked me beneath the balcony? His mask was already cracking; he didn’t need more weight to carry.

“It’s a fine blade.” Jerek’s voice, rough and raspy, drew me back. “But with this, there’s little I can teach you. If someone gets close enough for you to use it, it’ll be a mad scramble for survival.”

He flipped the dagger, the steel clinking. Behind me, Tallon and Kallias’ swords clanged together, and I fought the urge to flinch. Greaves’ gaze was fixed on their movements, eyes tracking every strike.

“I should start with self-defense, but…” Jerek hesitated, eyeing me. “It’s wiser to use your Thresher. He knows better than I.”

I turned to the giant in black leather armor. His arms were crossed, his chest broad, and he didn’t shy from my gaze. Instead, his eyes narrowed, a sharp glare meeting mine .

The only warriors I had seen with tattoos were Threshers, the dark ink of his mark peeked from the collar of his tunic.

“We’ll use your fists in place of your dagger.” Jerek set my weapon on a table and moved closer. “An attacker will always try to sneak up on you. Thresher, what’s your name?”

Gray eyes flicked to the man, an eyebrow lifting in silent response. That icy gaze returned to me, sending a shiver down my spine. He could snap me in half without effort. Lucky for me, he was charged with protecting me, not hunting me.

“It’s only polite to know the name of my sparring partner.” I smiled, tilting my head, trying to sound lighthearted—but it wasn’t the playful gesture I intended. It felt more like offering my throat to a dragon.

He inhaled, his chest expanding with the effort. “Lynx.”

“Nienna,” I replied, dipping into the slightest curtsy. A silent thank you.

He didn’t react, but his lips formed a line, his massive arms lowering to his sides.

“You understand he’ll lay hands on you, Your Highness?” Jerek asked.

“Yes, I imagine that comes with the training.”

“Right then, Lynx, if you would–”

A wall of muscle wrapped around my neck. The pressure of a solid arm dug into my shoulders. I gasped, fingers grasping at the black tunic beneath my chin as he leaned in, his body heavy against mine.

“The first lesson is to stay calm,” Jerek’s voice cut through the roaring in my ears.

“Gods!” Tallon cursed, but my focus was on the scent of leather and man that engulfed me, thick and suffocating.

Lynx’s arm remained firm, not crushing, but holding. No real danger—but still, fear crawled along my skin, racing through my veins.

“I want you to move slowly,” Jerek continued. “Think about what you’d do. No mistakes now. Forget what’s right—just slow down.”

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm clashing with Jerek’s calm instructions.

“I would grab my dagger?” My voice was muffled, my chin bouncing off the hard muscle of Lynx’s chest.

“If your dress would allow it.”

A sharp reminder of Draconis fashion. How did Radaanian noblewomen defend themselves? Judging by the men’s reactions, most likely none of them dared try.

I yanked at the hem of my skirts, imagining my dagger still tucked there. My left hand clenched into a fist and swung back, but the giant was too tall. He shifted his body, avoiding my strike and jostling me in the process. I squealed, stumbling over my feet.

“Always stay on your feet,” Jerek said, circling us.

I fought the urge to slap him, wishing he’d try wrestling this beast.

“Go for his shoulder.”

My fist hit the spot where Lynx held me. Harder than necessary? Probably. But he deserved it for yanking me around like a rag doll. He grunted, releasing his grip on my neck. I gasped for air, a grin tugging at my lips.

Then his hand shot out, fingers curling around my throat. A scream clawed for release, but the burn of his hold tightened my chest, choking the sound.

“Stand down!” Kallias’ roar sliced through my panic.

I stifled the scream, jerking away from Lynx’s grasp. My hands flew to my neck, rubbing the skin, fighting the sting.

The king stormed between us. His tunic sleeve was torn, stained with crimson. My shock deepened when I realized Tallon had struck him.

“Thresher, you are dismissed.”

Lynx didn’t flinch at the king’s order. Unbothered, he left the arena, his steps echoing with quiet authority.

“I’m fine, Your Majesty.” I forced the words out. “He just surprised me.”

“And she will be surprised, my king.” Jerek’s frown deepened. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I can’t teach her to fight without first teaching her to defend herself.”

“Never use a Thresher with her.” A command, firm and final. “That is not their duty.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty.”

“Perhaps I should train with her,” Tallon said, smooth and mocking. He strolled toward us, his eyes gleaming. “She’ll be my wife, after all. If anyone should have their hands on her, it should be me.”

Heat rushed to my face at the thought—his arm around my throat. Lynx’s towering presence seemed far less threatening.

“You’ll save those touches for after your wedding.” Kallias’ jaw tightened as he faced me. “My apologies, Princess.”

He had tried to teach me. To show me how to defend myself, how to use my dagger beyond the basic knowledge that the pointy end went in first. But I messed up. And now, there was nothing more he could offer. We were tethered by our titles.

Desire ached in me at the thought of him teaching me. To feel his arms around me, to have him pull me close. I wanted the heat of his breath against my ear, but none of that would come.

His mask faltered. Anger flared in his gaze, followed by something softer—pain, resignation .

“No insult was taken.” I forced a smile, tight and brittle. “Thank you for the offer, but I think I’ll rely on my own wits.”

“Until I can train you,” Tallon added. His voice twisted in my gut. I knew his idea of training. He would try to kill me—this much was certain. “Stay. Watch me and my father. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

“If the king would permit it,” I murmured, meeting Kallias’ gaze. His expression shuttered again.

“Jerek, you’re dismissed. Princess, if you’d like to remain, stand by Greaves.” Kallias’ voice was low as he turned to face the arena.

Jerek offered a bow and made his way toward the stairs, exiting the hall.

Tallon’s gaze tracked me as I approached Greaves. The guard adjusted his stance, positioning himself between us. A small move, yet it spoke volumes in his protective role.

“Tallon,” Kallias called, summoning him to the ring. The prince obeyed, a wicked grin curling his lips.

Soon, I understood why.

A tightness in my wrist flickered first, followed by a slow, creeping sensation that felt like something was prodding my insides. It was him. Somehow, he had found a way to do what Egath had done—but with far less control.

A cold wave of dread washed over me. Could Tallon be part Velli? Was he a true bastard, sired by a Velli noble?

His gaze locked with mine over Kallias’ shoulder. Those green irises glittered with dark amusement.

My stomach churned. I pressed my hand to it, eyes wide with growing horror.

“Princess?”

Greaves’ voice rasped with concern, but it was cut short by a vicious hiss from Kallias. He staggered back, wiping at his arm. Crimson soaked through his tunic. Greaves let out a strangled sound, stepping closer.

“Still fit to rule a kingdom, Father?”

Kallias’ gaze flicked to me for a breath before he raised a hand to stop his guard. “You know nothing of ruling.”

“Court the nobles, gather advisors, form alliances.” A leer twisted his lips as his glare slid to me. “Fill a queen with heirs.”

Kallias exploded.

He lunged, knocking the leer from his face. Tallon yelped, the sound swallowed by the harsh rhythm of blows his father rained down. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Kallias at full strength. His boots kicked up sand, shoulders straining with the power of his strikes in spite of his wounds from the Hunt.

Greaves’ hands remained empty, clenched into tight fists, his helplessness palpable .

Tallon backed up, throwing frantic blocks. His foot caught, and Kallias charged. He slammed into the prince, knocking him to the ground with a thud. Greaves relaxed, stepping back to stand at my side while the king loomed over his son, sword hovering at his throat.

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his growl too low for me to hear. The weapon’s tip pressed against Tallon’s skin.

One breath.

Two.

Finally, Kallias stepped back, shaking his head. He stormed toward me, sheathing his sword with a sharp motion, his fury now turned on me.

“I will escort you to your rooms.”

Just like that, the fight ended. The king had put the prince in his place. I had failed in my training.

Tallon rolled onto his side, his raven hair matted with sand. I expected rage, accusation—but what I saw instead sent a chill through me.

Thrill.