Page 38 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Nienna

D ays blurred into one another, each sunrise a dull repetition. The only constant was Fyrn. She arranged social calls, took me to tea with noblewomen, and guided me through the gardens, pointing out hidden pieces of art.

My soul was torn between Kallias’ icy presence and the constant pressure of Tallon.

I missed Scythe—her sharp wit, her comfort.

Edith sat nearby, knitting with quiet focus, her eyes flickering to me every so often, laden with concern. The ache behind my ribs deepened. Alone. In love with a king who could never return it. Given to a prince who loathed me. And now I wondered if Tallon’s blood was tainted by the same darkness that clouded his soul.

Endless questions remained unanswered, and Kallias’ cold distance made them even harder to reach.

I buried myself in books, devouring every scrap of information on the Velli—though there was little to be found. Perhaps I was searching in the wrong places. Radaan’s palace wasn’t likely to hold various texts about their enemies, especially after so many years of conflict.

Tallon’s birth didn’t concern me as much as how to survive our wedding night. I knew he would savor my pain. I needed leverage to keep him at bay, something to protect the fragile remnants of my spirit. If he forced himself on me, it would destroy what little was left .

Fyrn remained my one true friend, the only source of any comfort. When she sent a message summoning me to the stables, a flicker of hope sparked within me. It was unusual for her to send a message instead of coming for me herself—perhaps a surprise. It had been too long since I’d set foot outside the suffocating confines of the palace walls. I longed to see more of Radaan, but for now, Reem would do.

I dressed in a simple riding dress—a blue garment with pale breeches beneath. After I secured my dagger to my thigh, a sharp ache ran through me, a reminder of who’d given it to me.

But that was over.

Whatever we had was done.

Lynx, unaffected by the sparring incident, trailed behind me, a silent shadow. Thanks to Fyrn’s help during those long, tedious days, I knew the halls well now.

The guards opened the courtyard doors, and the sun’s heat hit me as I crossed the western garden toward the stables.

They were built into the stone wall separating Reem from the palace, much like the temples. Eager horses and busy stablehands filled the air with a lively, comforting din. As I stepped into the shade of the first stable, I slowed my pace, scanning for any sign of Fyrn.

A white horse thrust its head from a stall, letting out a soft wicker, its ears pricked forward. I smiled, reaching out to stroke its velvety nose. I wasn’t afraid of horses, even though I feared riding them.

“Have you seen my friend?” I asked the creature, my gaze drifting down the aisle.

The horse huffed, sniffing my dress as if it expected treats. I chuckled, patting its mane before continuing.

The stablehands made themselves scarce; the work here had already finished. Clean aisles stretched before me, free of hay, while the horses were content in their stalls, preoccupied with their breakfast.

A sense of calm settled over the barn, the only sound the quiet munching of oats. I hummed, enjoying the stillness. In the palace, there was no peace. My rooms were the only place that offered an escape from the endless noise, the whispers, and the expectations surrounding my impending wedding. The day loomed over me like a storm cloud.

The air was growing colder. Draconia savored the chill, as it signaled the end of the whirlstorm season, a cause for celebration. Here, it only marked the approach of my doom.

A sudden cry shattered my thoughts. I stiffened, scanning the aisle.

Another muffled scream followed, cutting through the stillness.

I froze, skimming the rows of wooden stalls. Then Lynx’s imposing figure loomed into my space, his presence suffocating .

The sound wasn’t one of a threat—it was pain. Someone was hurt. I crept forward, Lynx at my side, moving with caution. The horses ignored me, their heads bent to their grain as I peered into each empty stall, searching for the source of the cries.

“Come on!” The hiss was sharp, followed by the sickening crack of a hand striking flesh.

My spine stiffened, a cold breath catching in my lungs.

Kallias would never tolerate violence within his walls. Neither would I.

I lifted my chin, my resolve hardening, and prowled toward the end of the passage, following the sharp, ragged breaths.

Lynx grunted, stepping forward as I neared the source. I shot him a glare—his height gave him a better view—but he grimaced and stepped aside, allowing me to round the corner.

Tallon’s trousers hung low on his hips, clinging to his thighs, his tunic falling to cover his lower back. Fyrn stood pressed against the stall, her breath hitching, her hands pinned high above her head. Her skirts twisted around her waist, the fabric bunched, revealing pale skin.

My world tilted, each detail searing into my mind like a brand. Fyrn’s parted lips trembled. Tallon’s shoulders heaved as if he had run a mile. A shudder ran through me, clawing up my spine, my fists tightening as though they could crush the scene before me into nothingness. Vision red-tinged, I froze, the betrayal striking deeper than any blade could.

Tallon’s head jerked in my direction, a damp lock of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.

Bile surged up my throat. My feet wouldn’t move. I couldn’t look away. His grin spread, savage, malicious.

Rage boiled through me, the heat burning my veins.

“How dare you!”

Fyrn, my only friend, twisted toward me. Her wide eyes locked with mine for an instant, but whatever she meant to say came out as a choked moan, silenced by Tallon’s hand pressing firmly against her spine. He shoved her back into place with a callousness that turned my stomach.

“You stay,” he growled, his tone as sharp and cruel as a whip.

Disgust surged through me, a cold wave that left me trembling. This was Tallon, my betrothed, the person who made my life in Radaan a quiet torment. Now he stood here, brazen and unrepentant, bedding someone I had trusted above all others. Fyrn wasn’t just a friend—she was supposed to be my anchor, the one person who had always been safe.

But here she was, exposed and vulnerable, her skirts tangled and her dignity stolen, in the shadow of a filthy stable. A fissure of betrayal cracked through my chest, cutting deeper than I thought possible .

“Care to join us, future wife?” His voice slithered, thick with venom, coiling around my heart like a poison.

I staggered back, my limbs heavy. He was monstrous. The prince was vile—but this? This was too much.

Lynx stepped in front of me, his body a solid wall between me and the nightmare unfolding.

I sucked in a shaky breath, stumbling from the stall. Away from the sad excuse of a man who wanted me broken—and Fyrn, the traitor I had once trusted.

There was no escape. How had I been so blind? How had I missed the signs?

My feet carried me farther, moving without thought, pulling me from the sounds of their shameful tryst. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I needed distance from the wretched scene.

Tallon would never leave me in peace. Marrying him would bind me, mind and body. My people were starving—what was the worth of my soul in the face of their suffering? I could break the blood oath, claim I wanted to return to my father, and he would let me. Kallias would let me.

Kallias.

I slammed into a stone wall, my vision spinning. I collapsed onto a crate in a shadowed alcove, my body heavy with grief. Lynx moved to shield me from sight, his back a silent barrier between me and the world.

Still, running blind wasn’t the answer. I needed a plan. The only light in this dark was the thought of being close to Kallias, but that light would burn my soul to ash. We could never be together.

But he would understand. He would anchor me in this storm, steady when I faltered.

I drew in a long, deliberate breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs, each second stretching to calm my pounding heart. The rhythm slowed, though my chest still felt tight, like it might split apart if I moved too quickly. No one would see me running through the palace—a fragile, broken girl. I wouldn’t shatter so openly. So I straightened, smoothing the trembling in my limbs with sheer force of will.

I was not just a girl—I was a princess. One day I would be queen. I would act like one.

A queen did not crumble. Composure was her shield; control was her weapon. She stood tall in the face of storms, never letting them see her bleed.

She shaped the world to her will.

And she got what she wanted.

My boots thudded against the stone, and Lynx’s steady pace matched mine as I pushed past a stablehand and into the harsh sunlight. It no longer felt warm, only cold and distant. I stormed through the gardens, forcing myself to slow, unwilling to run back into the palace .

How long had she been with him, tangled in secrets and shadows while I remained blind? The thought lodged in my chest like a splinter, raw and aching. Tallon’s betrayal stung, but the pain was dull, a distant echo of what I might have expected. It was the truth about Fyrn that cut deeper, jagged and unforgiving.

She wasn’t just a friend—she had been my anchor, the steady hand that had guided me when my world tilted. She had always been there, her presence soothing the unspoken battles between me and Tallon, her quiet words tempering our sharpest edges.

The breath I took caught in my throat, jagged and sharp, as the realization hit with the force of a blade. She hadn’t been mending the rift or pulling me closer to him. She’d been standing at his side, her loyalty already spoken for.

Always close, a shadow at his heels, smoothing over his flaws, making them seem smaller than they were. Her smiles had never been meant for me; they’d been his to claim, each one a quiet offering. He was her storm, her sun, her center.

And all this time, I had been nothing more than a blind fool, circling the edges of a life that had never truly belonged to me.

The realization twisted my gut, bile rising as the image of them together seared itself into my mind. My breaths came shallow and quick, my grip tightening on my skirts as I hurried through the halls, desperate to outrun the sickening thoughts clawing at my sanity.

Behind me, Lynx let out a soft grunt, his long strides nearly breaking into a jog to match my frantic pace. Each hurried step seemed to draw more attention, servants and nobles pausing in their tasks to watch as we rushed by.

I didn’t care.

I spun down another corridor, barely catching myself on the wall, before charging past two guards and into Kallias’ study.

His cornflower blue eyes snapped up to meet mine, his dark brows furrowing in surprise. Greaves stiffened, but made no move, realizing I was no threat.

I strode into the room, chin lifted high, despite the sting of a tear that threatened to fall and the sharpness in my chest.

“Out.” Kallias’ voice was sharp, and Lynx withdrew without a word.

He pushed himself to his feet, his gaze narrowing as he studied me, as if trying to peel back the layers of my distress.

My body trembled. My heart pounded, urging me to close the distance, but my mind warned me I shouldn’t be here.

“Gods, Nienna—what happened?” His fist clenched, his eyes scanning me, seeking the cause of my pain.

“Tallon,” I choked, struggling to hold back the flood of emotions, “in the stables. ”

The words barely left my throat before a tear slipped down my cheek. I refused to carry this anymore. Each passing day, I felt myself withering inside, suffocating under my duty. Born a princess, with the heart of a commoner. I was expected to do a duty that would kill me.

“Greaves.”

Kallias crossed the room in a single stride, wrapping me in his arms. The cold bite of gold chains pressed against my cheek as he pulled me against his chest.

“Kal–”

“Go!” The command rang out with the authority of a king—not a friend.

The door slammed shut behind him.

“Did he hurt you?” Raw emotion drenched every word—concern, anger, a promise of vengeance.

“Fyrn…” The name tasted like ash on my tongue. My lips twisted into a bitter smile, and I laughed—a hollow, jagged sound that scraped my throat. “I’m so stupid.”

The weight of my own words pressed against me. I should have seen it. The stolen glances, the way her smile softened when he was near, the moments they disappeared together. I’d been too blind, too desperate for someone to trust, for a friend.

“She never cared about me,” I muttered, my voice trembling. “She only ever wanted him.”

Kallias stiffened, his hands faltering on my arms. “Tallon and Fyrn?” His tone was quiet, measured, but something sharp lurked beneath the surface. He eased back, his grip loosening enough to meet my gaze, his expression carefully unreadable. His eyes searched mine, as if trying to piece together the tangled web of betrayal I just revealed.

I scoffed, swiping at the fresh tear tracks on my cheeks. What she had done was unforgivable, but in this moment, I almost felt she wasn’t worth my sorrow. “Rutting like animals in the stables.”

Kallias sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze flickering between mine. The muscle under his left eye twitched in irritation, his lips formed a tight line.

“Men and their mistresses.” I tried to laugh, but the sound broke, raw and bitter.

His arms remained steady around me, though I felt his focus shift, as if he were dissecting my pain. The heat of his anger pressed against the edges of his concern. We both understood what Tallon’s disdain for me meant—that he wouldn’t think twice about taking someone else to his bed.

Kallias’ jaw tensed, his eyes flicking upward as if the words he needed hung out of reach. “It is... unseemly to take a mistress in public.”

“Only in public?” My scoff came sharp and cold .

Just because it was common practice didn’t make it any less vile. My hand moved, trembling, tracing the green brocade of his coat. Fury and despair warred inside me, leaving a heady, disorienting ache in their wake.

“And a private study?” I asked.

If Tallon thought he could take whatever he wanted, then so could I. There’d never be love between us—only ink and signatures. An empty union.

His eyes snapped back to mine and he tried to retreat, but I tightened my grip in the thick green brocade of his overcoat.

“If it is acceptable for him to take Fyrn,” I whispered, “it’s good enough for me.”

“A mistress?” He spat the word as if it were poison, recoiling as much as I would allow him. He jerked back, but my hold anchored him in place. His hands clamped around my waist, firm but hesitant, as if warring with himself. “You would have me treat you as less than what you are? Sharing the bed with my son at night, and bed me in closets and in secret? Is that what you want? To live with lies on your lips and deceit in your heart?”

His words sliced through me, cutting deep. This was the best I’d have, the only happiness allowed to me. And I would take it.

“We already live a lie,” I hissed through my clenched teeth. “This game we play, the secret glances, the long, empty nights... We lie to ourselves, to everyone! We wear our masks and pretend there’s nothing between us.”

I laid myself bare before him, my soul a raw, aching wound. I was dying inside, holding on to the one thing that might make me feel alive. “Take me, Kallias. I want to be your mistress.”

His frustration flared, and before I took another breath, he stepped forward, shoving me against the wall. His hard body trapped mine, and he raised a hand to grip my chin, forcing me to meet his stormy gaze, his eyes burning with wrath—and something darker.

“You are worth more than that. You–”

“I can’t have more than that, Kallias!” My voice cracked.

“You deserve–”

“What? What am I allowed to have?” I snapped, swallowing the scream that threatened to tear free. My fingers dug into his coat. “Tell me what part of you I can claim—what role might I play in your life besides a hidden secret? Will you ever make me your queen–”

“The blood oath–”

“Is for Tallon and me. Yes. But if you wrote–”

“If I wrote your father, the sun-scorched king of Draconia,” he interrupted, slapping a palm over my mouth, silencing my protest. “To tell him I have lied, forsaken the promise of my blood and decided to bed his daughter rather than give her to my age appropriate son—he would send a fleet to Radaan, but instead of aiding me—they would raze the fields!”

I bit at his hand, frustration searing my flesh. He cursed, yanking it back and bracing against the wall, towering over me.

“Then not as your queen. My title might belong to Tallon, but let me give you myself. That is mine to offer.” I tugged at him, desperate, feeling him fight against the pull, but his resistance only added fuel to my fire.

“Your body is sacred.” His voice was a growl, his grip tightening at my waist as he lifted me, his strength forcing me into the wall. “It deserves to be worshiped. Do not throw it away.”

“I’m throwing it at you, fool!” I locked my legs around him, pulling him closer, desperate for the contact. He thrust against me, driving his hips into my core and I gasped arching my back as a painting above us teetered.

“You would have me treat you like a common wench.” His words were filled with rage, his gaze searing through me as it trailed from my face down to my chest.

“I would be yours.” My breath hitched, and I pressed myself closer. “Take me as yours.”

Something wild snapped in him. His mouth crashed onto mine, fiery and demanding. A moan escaped me, both relief and pleasure flooding my senses. I parted my lips, surrendering, and his tongue swept in, relentless and ravenous. One hand held me up, while the other brushed the front of my gown, grazing my breast with a heat that ignited every nerve.

I scrambled at his overcoat. Buttons flew as I tore at the fabric, desperate to strip it away.

So many more layers to go.

He broke the kiss with a growl, his gaze burning with need. “Easy, Nienna.”

I snarled, threading my fingers through his hair and yanking him back to me. His groan filled the space between us as I took control, demanding his mouth with a flurry of tongue and lips—needy, hungry.

He spun me, stumbling toward the desk. His hands swiped at papers, sending them scattering across the floor. He dropped me onto the surface, my backside jolting against the hard wood, the ink from scattered reports smudging against my skin.

I tugged at the hem of his tunic, freeing it from his trousers. My hand traced the ridges of his abs, then moved up the dusting of hair on his chest. He made a strangled sound, pulling back against my fingers tangled in his locks. With a swift, decisive motion, he seized my wrists, pinning them to the desk.

“Wait,” he gasped, his breaths ragged, his eyes frantic as he searched my face, trying to clear the passion clouding his mind.

“No.” The word came out low, a growl .

He couldn’t stop—I refused to let him think of all the reasons this shouldn’t happen. I had memorized them during those long, lonely nights. Hooking my legs around his waist, I pressed my hips to his. I arched, grinding against him, desperate for more. So much more.

A string of curses spilled from him as he bucked against me, his control slipping. He released my wrists, and I immediately reached for his belt. When he attempted to shove my hand away, he leaned down for another kiss, but I hissed and smacked his arm, tugging at the buckle with impatient force.

With a grunt of surprise, his eyes flashed with something darker. A spark of wariness crossed his face, but vanished as quickly as it came. With a single motion, he gripped my sleeve and tore the fabric, the seam giving way to reveal my shoulder and the top of my breast, sending a chill of air over my exposed skin.

I froze, breath catching, shocked—but thrilled. His chest heaved as he paused, meeting my gaze, asking for permission. Waiting for me to pull away, to be the voice of reason.

My only answer was to unfasten his belt.

He crashed into me, pinning me beneath him, my hands struggling to push his trousers down. His lips blazed a fiery trail across my jaw, down my neck, along my chest, each kiss a mark that left me gasping. With a rough yank, he pulled at my dress, exposing my breast to the cool air, groaning as his hips ground into mine. I arched against the desk, the impact sending glass, ink, and paperweights clattering.

Pulling back for a quick breath, he fumbled with the panel of my skirt, pushing it up to my thighs. “Cursed breeches!” he muttered, reaching under my dress to grip my waist. My laughter was breathless as I lifted my hips to help him, letting him yank the fabric down to my ankles.

I kicked at the constraints, struggling against him, but he tackled me again. Our legs tangled as we fought to break free, only to pull closer in the process.

His lips burned a trail of fire across my chest, large hands searing my backside. “I need you!” I hissed. “Now!”

His low chuckle vibrated through his chest as I kicked one foot loose, wrapping my legs back around him, trousers hanging from my ankle. I purred in pleasure, simply having him so close, my core aching with desire.

He gripped my backside, pulling me flush against him, the cool chains of his mantle brushing over my bare skin. I sat up, reaching between us, trying to yank his trousers down, cursing as they caught on his hips.

He grunted, shoving me onto the desk, his palm pushing my skirts higher, the other unfastening his trousers. I panted, eyes locked on his movements, my tongue darting over my lip .

Two buttons undone, I slipped my hand between us, sliding inside. His head fell back, a guttural groan tearing from his chest as his grip tightened painfully on my bare hip.

“Gods! Ni–”

The door to the study slammed open.

Kallias spun, throwing me off the desk with a force that sent a lantern crashing, its light flickering out in a burst of glass. My heart pounded as he twisted, placing his body between mine and the intruders. Panic surged through me, my breath shallow as my mind scrambled to catch up.

I clutched the sides of his tunic, searching his face for the calm, the control that always defined him—the man who had faced flesh-eating wizards and walked away victorious. The self-assured king who never wavered.

“Well, well. Father, you really should learn to take your whores to your bed.”

Tallon’s voice, thick with ridicule, hit me like a slap. Kallias’ left eye twitched, his facade cracking for just a moment. Then it was gone, replaced by the cold mask he wore so well. He tugged at the torn pieces of my dress, a futile effort to cover me, as if that could undo everything.

“Sea beneath, Tallon.”

Horror flooded my veins, icy and biting. The crease between Kallias’ brows deepened, his face draining of color. His pupils constricted to tiny pinpricks, nostrils flaring, his breath ragged as his grip on my shoulders tightened.

“We’ll come back, Your Majesty.” Ronan’s words thickened with disdain.

My brother—he was here. Why was he here?!

Egath’s voice cut through the tension, sneering. “Oh! Isn’t that the princess’ signet ring?”

I yanked my hand from his side like it had been seared by fire, clutching the damning ring close as if it might shield me.

Kallias’ eyes fluttered shut. His breathing slowed, deepened. He braced himself for the storm to come.

But I wasn’t ready.

None of us were.

“Your Majesty?” Ronan’s voice had dropped an octave, dangerous now. “May I see the lady’s face?”

“We didn’t get a good look when she was splayed over your desk,” Tallon added, his words dripping with malice.

Silence.

Kallias was so still. So quiet. Assessing. Judging. His mind raced, calculating the best course of action. He just needed a moment to think of a way out of this mess.

A mess I had put us in .

“Give us privacy,” he commanded, his voice low, cold, and laden with authority. It was his last bluff. We both knew it.

The room spun. My breaths were shallow, frantic—this was all wrong. If Ronan found out like this, if he saw me, he would drag me back to Draconia.

As if on cue, Gyrak’s roar shook the palace walls—loud enough to rattle the floor. A response to his rider’s distress.

“I’m going to have to ask to see her face. Just a glimpse.” Gone was the respect, the ‘Your Majesty’—Ronan was demanding now.

Kallias’ blue eyes—once the serene color of a midsummer sky—opened, but the pain was unmistakable. Wrinkles deepened at the corners, and his jaw clenched with frustration. His mask of calm cracked, revealing the regret he couldn’t hide. His eye twitched again, his face a portrait of tortured decision.

We were trapped. There was no way out. Kallias stood between me and my brother, with Tallon and Egath at his side. The path was blocked, and there was no escaping the mess I had created.

Gritting my teeth, I mouthed, I love you.

Then, I stepped from behind the king who owned my heart.

A breath of silence. A fraction of a second was all I had before Tallon’s brow arched in amused surprise, realizing his father had been seconds from bedding me.

Gyrak’s scream rattled the paintings on the wall, and Egath recoiled, eyes wide with shock.

My brother’s face drained of color, then flushed deep and blotchy. His gaze swept over my torn clothes and disarray, before landing on the king.

Kallias remained unshaken, standing tall as he met Ronan’s furious glare.

“You rutting bas–”

“Ronan!” I snapped, stealing a glance at Greaves.

His tortured expression betrayed his internal struggle. The palace guards stood behind him, their helms concealing their faces, though I knew they’d witnessed every second.

“Nienna!”

My brother lunged at me, his grip vicious as he wrenched my arm, pulling me farther from Kallias. I tripped over the breeches still tangled around one ankle, fumbling with the scraps of my torn dress. I barely managed to keep them from falling.

“You sick bastard!” Ronan roared, Gyrak’s fury echoing his.

“Your dragon!” I shouted, my shriek desperate in the chaos.

“He’ll tear this palace apart!” He seethed.

“Tallon, Egath, remove yourselves.” Kallias demanded, as the dragon’s scream above us caused dust to fall from the ceiling. “Nienna– ”

“Don’t you dare say her name!” Ronan stepped in front of me, cutting me off from him.

The Velli ambassador watched in stunned silence, but Tallon’s leer was the worst. His eyes, filled with mockery, danced over my exposed form, savoring my discomfort.

I fought with my breeches tangled around my boot while clutching onto my torn dress. My glare fixed on the prince—my enemy. I had misjudged him. He wasn’t the fool I’d imagined. No, he had more of Kallias in him than I ever wanted to admit, evaluating my every move.

“Princess Nienna shall be escorted to her rooms–”

“I swear by the stars, if you say her name one more time—”

A thrum of power pulsed through the room. I shot up as a ball of flame swirled in Ronan’s hand.

“—I will kill you!”

Kallias’ lips pressed together, his jaw tight. His gaze locked with mine over my brother’s shoulder, heavy with both warning and an unspoken pain.

“You don’t get to look at her!” Ronan snapped, his temper flaring.

I grabbed the back of his leathers. “Ronan!” I hissed, tugging at him. “Don’t be stupid!”

“Me?” He whirled, fury burning in his eyes. His gaze dropped to my chest, the shredded remnants of my garment barely covering me. Hatred twisted his features as he seized my arm.

“Let’s go.” I tugged on him, trying to pull him toward my rooms, hoping I might calm him—and Gyrak—before they both destroyed everything.

“Yes, let’s!” He snarled. “I’m taking you home. Where men don’t steal their sons’ wives and treat them like common whores!”

He spun, dragging me along. I stumbled but bit my tongue, swallowing every retort.

Kallias stormed around his desk. The look of pure devastation on his face made my heart lurch. My vision blurred as Ronan dragged me away.

“Pray, King Kallias.” His voice was cold, controlled, dangerous. “Pray to your gods that dragons don’t fly for Radaan.”

Then he hauled me out of the room.

The hall loomed, filled with nobles drawn to the commotion. Humiliation threatened to swallow me whole as gasps echoed through the onlookers. My dress tangled around my feet, and I stumbled. Lynx rushed to catch me.

Ronan whipped, pulling me to his side. Fire crackled in his palm, his voice low and venomous. “Careful, warrior. You’ve never faced a Dragon Rider.”

The man hesitated, his expression unreadable, eyes darting, seeking a way to pry me from my brother’s grip.

“Go back, Lynx,” I whispered, tears now streaming down my face .

Ronan’s arm tightened around me, pulling me closer. No matter how much I hated him in that moment, it was him I clung to. His presence, a strange comfort against the accusing, disgusted stares of the court. He was the only one who could shield me now.

“The oath between Radaan and Draconia has been torn asunder,” my brother called out. “Our trust has been shattered—”

“Ronan, stop!”

“—and to impede us or come after us is an act of war!”

His words slammed into the room, and a ripple of shock spread through the crowd. Servants peered around corners, eyes wide with disbelief.

When he turned to leave, I didn’t resist. I rushed to keep up, his grip unyielding as Gyrak’s screech rattled the windows. The sound of dragonfire followed. I needed to get them out of here—before the destruction became irreversible.

But dragging me through the palace like this would leave an impression no one would forget.

We burst into the courtyard, and chaos erupted.

Gyrak landed with a deafening crash, his massive body obliterating part of the garden. Stone benches shattered beneath his weight. The dragon threw his head back and unleashed a torrent of flame that lit up the sky.

Ronan pulled me toward the beast’s shoulder, but I yanked, digging my heels into the ground.

“Stop it! Please!” My voice cracked.

“He should have stopped!” He jerked my arm again, his rage barely contained.

“Just stop for one blasted moment!” I hissed, my hands shaking from the fury that refused to quell. I cursed my lack of magic to make him stop and think about this.

“Ronan, let me get changed!”

“You’re not setting another foot in that palace!”

“You don’t decide what I do!”

Gyrak’s enormous snout slammed into me, shoving me toward his saddle as soldiers flooded the courtyard, their boots pounding against stone. I whirled, pointing a trembling finger at the dragon’s snout.

“No!”

Something cracked deep inside me, a surge of energy rippling across my skin. Gyrak recoiled from my touch, his pupils narrowing to slits.

“I am a Dragon Rider, Princess.” Ronan’s words were thick with authority. “I outrank you by position and birth.”

Fury burned through me like wildfire, painting my vision crimson. A daughter. That’s all I was. A tool to be traded for alliances .

A broken tool.

“Don’t do this.”

“I won’t abandon you here.” Ronan’s voice softened, but his presence loomed, towering over me, forcing me to tilt my head to meet his gaze. “I won’t leave you with him.”

The weight of his words pressed down on me, a finality that shattered my resolve.

This was it. No turning back now. There was no convincing him or undoing the damage. Kallias couldn’t follow me—not without sparking war. He’d lose everything.

The truth had spilled. Our secret was exposed, and nothing would ever be the same.

I had destroyed it all. Radaan, Draconia, my future—Kallias’ peace. His hard-won stability was shattered by the recklessness of a single moment.

“Come with me, Nienna. There’s no future for you here.”

His grip tightened, pulling me toward Gyrak, and this time I didn’t resist.

Ignoring the shredded remains of my gown, I climbed onto the black-scaled shoulder of the beast. A sob wracked through me, painful and raw. Cold leather bit into skin as I settled in. Ronan followed, his movements mechanical as he buckled my boots into the stirrups.

I caught his angry looks at my naked legs, diverting his gaze from my thighs.

There was something painfully exposing about being laid bare to so many. But more than that, the humiliation of it shattered what was left of my heart. My shoulders slumped as Ronan pressed his body tightly against mine, pulling his flight goggles over his face.

“Hold on. We’re going home.”

His strong arms encircled me, locking me in place as he gripped the ridge of the saddle. Gyrak roared beneath us, the force of his fury ripping a shrub from the earth. With a mighty beat of his wings, the dragon launched into the sky. Ronan’s body was an ironclad wall, holding me steady as we ascended.

The thunderous clap of wings echoed like the final strike of a hammer on a coffin. We soared, Gyrak’s enormous form cutting through the air with surprising speed. Below us, the palace shrank, its bustling life reduced to nothing more than ants scrambling over the ground. We climbed higher, toward Draconia, the land that should have been home.

But home was no longer a place—it had become a man. The invisible tether between me and Kallias stretched, taut and unyielding, urging me to turn back, to race into his arms. Nothing would ever be right without him. Life felt hollow without him.

But there was no life with him .

A low whimper escaped me before I could stop it, and Ronan’s grip tightened, drawing me further into his embrace. My eyes squeezed shut as panic clawed at my chest, my fingers grasping at the broken thread that once connected me to Kallias.

Then it snapped.

.