Page 8 of Between Flames and Deceit (Dragon’s Heart Duology #1)

Chapter Seven

Kallias

S he would meet the Velli. There was no changing that. The treaty would stand, for now. The ambassador would tread with care, mindful of the significance his actions carried, but the thought of what could happen if it all fell apart gnawed at me. If the treaty broke before Tallon and Princess Nienna’s union, I couldn’t predict how Draconia would react. Would they take sides—leave us to face the consequences alone?

A slow breath escaped me as I walked down the sunlit corridor, my gaze catching on a servant watering the plants that lined the eastern hall. Their bright green leaves shimmered under the streams of water, a stark contrast to the agitation curling in my chest. The more I observed Nienna, the more my unease grew.

She was fire—a wild thing easily extinguished by the wrong hands. And Tallon, with his mother’s arrogance and his own reckless nature, was more than capable of snuffing out that spark. I feared what he would do to her—how he would suffocate her spirit under the strain of his pride, smother it under those ridiculous heeled boots.

The image of her clinging to the horse as they entered the city gates shot through my mind, pulling my seething rage to the surface. His immaturity nearly got her killed. His thoughtlessness and disregard for others was dangerous. It had to be curbed.

Never having seen war, he had no idea how to lead men into battle, where their lives hung by a thread. He didn’t understand the weight of walking across fields soaked in blood, the earth squelching beneath boots, knowing every step might be his last. The stakes were beyond him, and it seemed he didn’t care. If he truly did, he wouldn’t act like a spoiled child. Radaan was too fragile to endure another war—not with him at the helm.

I stepped out of the palace, drawing in the fresh air as the sun’s warmth seeped through my clothes. The world lightened—if only for a moment. I was doing what I could with the cards Eldeiade dealt me.

Nienna was headed toward a loveless marriage, much like my own. But I had learned to suffer it for the sake of my kingdom. She would too, in time.

Eldeiade had been a match chosen by my father—a high noblewoman from our western border. She was polite enough. Or perhaps I’d been na?ve. Maybe she was simply skilled at feigning kindness. Regardless, after the wedding, I realized the truth of the monster I married.

It was one thing to face my people’s criticism. The mocking words of councilmen, though painful, I could bear. But to have the person I trusted to stand by me become the one to drive every cruel jab deeper—it was a betrayal I hadn’t prepared for.

Siring an heir became a task I wanted to wipe my hands of. After my parents died, it turned into a grim ritual. Each month, she summoned me like a stud to her stable—a call I couldn’t evade.

Eyes closed, I let my steps guide me through the garden, following the path to the temple that lay between the palace and the city.

Guilt pricked at me as I remembered the relief I’d felt when Vellos launched its first attack on our border. Skirmishes flared at first, letting me time my visits to avoid her. Then the situation tightened. We sought peace, but Vellos demanded land. Emissaries came to the palace. We scrutinized them at every turn, searching for any opening to end the conflict without bloodshed.

Then Eldeiade called for me. I was within Reem’s city walls, not during the appointed week, yet still close enough to be bound to answer her summons.

The next month, she announced her pregnancy with Tallon.

I never cared whose blood ran in his veins. He grew up as mine, raised to inherit Radaan’s throne. Eldeiade kept him close—a lioness, pulling him into her orbit, guarding him. Until her death, he trailed her skirts like a lost pup, unaware or unwilling to venture beyond her reach.

The temple’s cool shade enveloped me, its chill like the hand of Elohios easing the weight from my shoulders. Priests noticed my approach and slipped back into the alcoves, leaving the temple quiet. No doors barred entry. Elohios demanded an open house, welcoming all to his justice and truth. I paused inside, letting my gaze settle over the simplicity of the room.

Greaves began the slow work of unlatching my yoke—his presence a constant, loyal shadow. The limestone floor, bare and plain, stretched toward the altar where Elohios stood carved in stone. Sword raised in one hand, scales balanced in the other, he surveyed the barren hall, his fierce gaze a silent judge poised over the souls who entered.

Red linen hung along the walls, casting a deep warmth over the room’s austerity. When Greaves lifted the mantle from my shoulders, I took one of the tight-rolled crimson mats from a woven basket near the entryway.

He set my yoke on the altar, and stepped aside, keeping a silent vigil while I approached the shrine. Before Elohios, I was no king—simply a man like any other. We stood as equals in the eyes of the god, judged by faith alone. I spread the mat and lowered myself, knees protesting as they met the unforgiving stone.

A slow breath steadied me as I bowed my head, my heart open in silent prayer.

Tallon never came.