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Chapter Four

B reakfast with Iris had been… awkward. We were both clearly interested in attempting to reconnect, but the heartbreak and trauma between us made that process anything but easy. Most of our meal passed in uncomfortable silence, broken only by the occasional attempt at small talk.

When she’d first arrived in my parlour, we’d greeted each other with a stiff, formal hug.

Nessira brought out food on a tiny cart and we’d both taken our time carefully picking which pastries to settle onto our plates, both commenting on how beautiful the spread was.

From there, our conversation had lingered on the weather: it’s really getting colder, and the food: the pastries are very sweet.

Nothing either of us said seemed to distract from the tension that lingered between us.

The uneasiness of the entire encounter ruined my appetite, but I’d found myself eating just for something to do to pass the time.

Finally, when it became all too unbearable, Iris rose abruptly, tucking her hands behind her back. Her movements were sharp, deliberate.

“I should get going,” she said.

I scrambled to my feet after her. “Of course. I... I have to prepare for the Council meeting soon, anyway.”

Her lips curved into a tight, polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Good luck with the meeting. ”

“Thank you.” I walked her to the door, the distance between us feeling larger than ever. “Thank you for joining me.”

She hesitated, looking as if she might say something more, but only offered a small nod and stepped through the threshold. I closed the door after her and sagged against it, letting out the heavy breath I’d held since she arrived.

A few months ago, I would have never imagined a conversation with Iris to be so forced and dull.

I missed her desperately. I missed my lively friend who snuck out of the castle with me and always obsessed over gowns and fashion. I missed the surprise of opening my door and seeing what color her hair would be.

Even though she had been here with me, I felt her absence like a missing limb.

Still, she was trying. I was trying.

For now, that had to be enough.

T he heavy door loomed before me, it's golden handles gleaming in the dim corridor light.

My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat.

The last time I'd walked through this threshold, I'd been taken to the Dragon's private office, shackles had bitten into my wrists, my cheek had pressed hard into his wooden desk, and the skin of my back had split open after he whipped me.

My chest was tight, panic suddenly freezing me in place.

When a servant opened the door suddenly, my breath hitched and I braced myself to return to that office, but she led me instead to a large meeting chamber.

Relief flooded over me as I glanced around the space.

The room had no windows so the candles hung in sconces along the wall provided the only light.

The Council sat in rigid silence at a long oval table made of fine cherry wood, their eyes snapping to me as I stepped into the room.

In the corner, Clay sat apart from the official members, an unoccupied chair beside him. I assumed they left it for me.

“We’re here to listen,” he explained as I sank into the velveteen seat next to him and crossed one ankle in front of the other. “Only speak if addressed directly. Since we’re not officially on the Council, these meetings are more about preparation than participation.”

I nodded, trying to push away my lingering nerves. “Understood.”

His gaze lingered on my face, searching. “Did you sleep?”

I hesitated. “You could say that.”

One brow arched, a silent invitation to elaborate but before I could summon a lie, the Dragon began speaking, his commanding voice cutting through the room like a blade.

I never thought I would be grateful for the Dragon interrupting me.

“What news is there?” the Dragon questioned, rifling through a stack of parchment.

Rosalia cleared her throat. “There have been reports, Your Majesty, of three House Archives being raided. Two in the city of Alegra and one in the city of Mansala.”

Tension settled over the room like a storm cloud and my attention flicked to Clay, hoping for some additional insight, but his furrowed brow told me he was just as confused.

Who would break into Archives, and why?

“What Houses?” Clara asked sharply.

“Two Herea Archives. The other was an Archive maintained in honor of Harmonia.”

The Dragon’s bushy eyebrows rose sharply, and he exchanged a pointed look with his son. Clay only tilted his head in a slight shake. He knew nothing about this, either.

“What was taken?” the Dragon pressed.

“Nothing, Your Majesty,” Rosalia assured him. “As of now, we have no reason to think that this is anything more than the work of rebellious teenagers.”

The glare he sent her could have made flowers wilt.

“I won’t tolerate it. Send a team of guards to find these criminals and publicly discipline them.”

Rosalia’s hesitation was subtle, but I caught it - the faint tightening of her lips, the clench of her fist beneath the table. It was the first crack I’d seen in the Council’s deferential show of obedience.

“And what updates do we have on the Tenebris situation?” the Dragon asked, pivoting topics sharply.

Gregory scratched his beard. “We believe Fort Charu is now at full occupancy.”

The Dragon’s golden eyes flared. Fort Charu was a base in Tenebris, a country we were supposedly allied with, but if our suspicions were correct and they were housing Promissan soldiers in a fort that close to Athenia…

“Your recommendation?” the Dragon asked.

Gregory hesitated, considering. “A scouting mission, perhaps?”

“Nonsense,” Rosalia sharply stated. “We have no evidence that Promissan soldiers are stationed there. They would see any scouting mission on their soil as an act of aggression.”

“Agreed,” Clara chimed in.

Gregory sighed. “Then perhaps we should look to strengthen our own alliance with Tenebris.”

The Dragon’s eyes narrowed. “Go on. ”

Gregory leaned forward. “Your marriage already cemented our ties with the Republic of Innanis. Perhaps it’s time we think more critically about Lady Moore’s prospects."

My stomach fell. I had known this moment was coming, of course.

The Dragon had, after all, been discussing my marriage since the day I’d sworn allegiance to Athenia.

I wasn't sure I would ever feel ready for it to become a certainty, but even I had to admit that Gregory was right - marrying into Tenebris could secure an alliance against Promissa.

It was the most strategic choice.

The Dragon’s sharp gaze locked onto mine, calculating, as if he was all at once weighing the feasibility of the proposal and trying to determine if I would protest. I wanted to, I did, but I kept my mouth locked tightly. Even when I felt the weight of Clay’s attention on me, I stayed silent.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Alright then, what are our options?”

Rosalia handed the Dragon a stack of folded parchment. “We’ve vetted three candidates, considering both their status and Hyraxian lineage. Clarn Freighter of Innanis has distant Hyraxian ties. Patrick Marshall of Promissa is a Water Wielder-”

“Avoid Promissan ties,” the Dragon snapped.

Rosalia continued smoothly, unphased by his outburst. “Last, your nephew, Veric Starsen of Tenebris. He’s a dragon, primarily descended from Zion. His power isn’t particularly notable, but he has sizeable Hyraxian blood from his father’s side.”

The Dragon rolled his neck until it cracked loudly, his face pensive as he rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his jaw. “I hadn’t realized my nephew had come of age.”

Nephew?

My breath caught. They were discussing engaging me to Clay’s cousin ?

Next to me, Clay stiffened. A wave of heat suddenly radiated off him, and when I glimpsed at him from the corner of my eyes, I could see the flecks of gold flaring to life in his gaze.

“That is not a terrible idea,” the Dragon mused.

Yes, it was. It was an absolutely, completely terrible idea.

Which meant it was definitely the one the Dragon was going to agree to.

“Confirm Veric’s suitability,” the Dragon instructed, meeting my gaze. “If all checks out, we just may have found our man.”

Clay’s silence was deafening. So was mine.

T he Council meeting proceeded at an achingly glacial pace as the Dragon and Council members debated trade deals, kingdom taxes, and crop production in the western lands of Athenia. I did my best to focus, but my mind kept drifting to Veric. And to Clay.

I’d imagined a million scenarios about my arranged marriage.

I’d imagined my future husband being older than me and then imagined him being younger.

I’d imagined him being too quiet and imagined him being too loud.

I’d imagined him being distant, ignoring me and living away from our home, and I’d imagined him being too close, never deigning to give me any privacy.

Not once did I imagine him being related to Clay.

Would we all have family dinners together? Sit around a fire with all our children running before us while Clay and I snuck heated glances at one another ?

When the meeting finally broke two hours later, I hardly noticed until the room began clearing out.

The Dragon caught my gaze before leaving. “I’ll have Emeryn begin planning the celebration for your Council Ascension. We must move quickly.”

His message was obvious. My final trialwould happen soon, and my initiation into the Council - and subsequent wedding - would follow shortly afterwards. I nodded in agreement, earning a knowing grin as his gaze flickered between Clay and me.

My stomach flipped unhappily as I’d realized what he’d done.