Shadow Wings: The Darkest Drae: Book two Read online

  Similar to the elm back in the sacred clearing, this tree was wide and tall. But the elm’s leaves had been green and its bark, although rough, thick and brown. This ash tree's foliage looked as though the plant had been infested with disease. The leaves of the tree were yellowed and their curled tips brittle and cracked. While the trunk was thick as well as the branches near it, the tree’s extremities were bare and broken. Twigs littered the ground beneath it. Where the elm had awed me, the sight of this tree broke my heart.

  “Come, Kealani,” Kamoi said, his face twisting into concern.

  Kamoi took a step forward on the path leading to the house, but I left him there and went to the ash tree, drawn once more. There was no wave of emotion calling me, except the unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach left from receiving snatches of the previous queen’s life only moments before. I was tired of non-answers, hints, avoidance, and most of all manipulation. The trees wanted me to know something. I felt a duty to them.

  I was tired of missing out. Of making my decisions based on the information others fed me. The trees held memories, and in my heart, I knew they spoke truth. To know that, when truth seemed so hard to come by these days, made me eager to oblige them.

  Placing my hands on the grayish bark, I closed my eyes and waited. The trees didn’t take long to answer my call.

  A stunning woman with wavy silver hair appeared, laughing and smiling, the joy in her eyes breathtaking. Next to her was a man, a Phaetyn, the same Phaetyn who was mated to the previous queen. He had slanting brows, high cheekbones, and full lips.

  Was this Kamoi's father? There was a strong resemblance to the prince. Kamoi’s story of his parents and his childhood came back to me, and I knew I’d guessed correctly. Was this stunning woman his mother?

  The image dissolved, and another took its place. The beautiful lady now wept, and the Phaetyn man pulled her into his arms. Another vision took hold, and this time, the same woman sat on a throne, rocking a tiny infant in her arms. The image faded, and then the woman knelt on the floor, alone in a dark room, holding a drawing of the previous queen, Queen Luna, while she wept. Her anguish was echoed by the tree, and my heart ached for her sorrow.

  “Can you see her? How she used to be?” Kamoi asked in a rough whisper.

  His warm hands covered mine, and I opened my eyes to see his violet eyes glistening with unshed tears.

  “Did you see my mother?” He choked on the last word, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Kamoi gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, breathing hard.

  I took the opportunity to study him. This close, I noticed his lower lip was fuller than his upper, and the definition of his chest muscles peeked out from the dip in his aketon. His fists were clenched, accentuating his corded arms; his chest was broader, and instead of being lean like Tyrrik, the Phaetyn prince was much more muscular and thick, like a tree trunk.

  There was something about Kamoi: his kindness, his patience, and the fact that he made me feel like I belonged with just a small touch, which spoke to me on some level. My blood knew his blood.

  I reached forward and rested my palm on his cheek. He gasped and pulled me to him, wrapping me in a warm embrace. He smelled like spring, like fresh rain and herbs with an undertone of smoky pine.

  His hands gripped my back, pushing into my skin. Energy pulsed between us, and I could feel his eagerness for my touch. But a memory of the torture room slammed into my mind, the feeling of being confined and trapped and out of control. Something deep inside screamed.

  I pulled back from the Phaetyn prince, stepping out of his reach.

  “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” I said, face heating. Jotun’s face, slamming doors, rows of scalpels.

  I squeezed the memories away, locking them deep inside. I choked out, “I-I I did see your mother; she's beautiful. She sick, isn't she?”

  “Let’s go meet her. You can see for yourself.” He held out his hand in invitation.

  I looked at Kamoi’s hand, willing the shivering remnants of my panicked moment away, telling myself I was being ridiculous. He’d been nothing but nice to me, and I’d never had that response with his previous touches. But then, what we’d just shared was more than a simple hand hold. I was absolutely certain whatever just happened, the panic was dregs of darkness from inside of me, left over from the castle. I looked at Dyter watching our exchange with a furrowed brow.

  There with him was Tyrrik, still unconscious and draped over the horse like a sack of potatoes. As I looked at the Drae, my heart tripped, skipping a few beats. Swift anger followed the light sensation. Mistress moons. There was something so not right in my head. Tyrrik had lied to me from day one; I wasn’t okay with feeling anything for him. I wouldn’t feel anything for him.

  Kamoi stood waiting, his hand still extended, although as he turned to follow my gaze, his hand sunk back toward his side. Before he could completely withdraw it, I resolutely reached forward and grabbed his hand and stepped closer. The way Kamoi treated me was normal. The way Tyrrik had treated me was anything but.

  Kamoi's eyes lit, and he offered a tentative smile.

  Dyter glared at me from behind the prince. Whatever. Dyter could be mad. He hadn't been in prison with Irrik, Ty, and Tyr. The old man had no room to judge.

  But the rolling of my stomach didn't quite agree with the rationale in my head because, despite everything, my mind was churning out on repeat that my stupid heart knew what my heart knew.

  And after only a couple of steps, I withdrew my hand from Kamoi's.

  16

  As we approached the rose quartz house, the filtered light it refracted cast rainbows into the meadow. The building was not created exclusively of stone. The double doors were made of wood that had been polished until it shone like the stone, but the wood was pale gray.

  We got closer, and the door was flung open, and a young Phaetyn girl of no more than eight ran out to meet us, screaming in Phaetyn language. The only word I understood was Kamoi's name. Judging by her wide smile and bounding enthusiasm, she was ecstatic to see her brother.

  I slowed my steps and watched as the girl crashed into her brother, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist.

  “Uso ua ou misea, Kamoi, fea na e iai.”

  “Kamini, you must speak in the language of man. We have guests, and we would not want to exclude them.”

  The girl dropped her arms, and her cheeks tinged pink all the way to the tips of her pointed ears. “You don't have to be a Drae about it, Kamoi.” She sniffed. “Next thing I know, you'll be acting like Father—”

  Kamoi put his hand over his sister's mouth and shook his head. “Part of growing up is knowing what to say, when to say it, and how to say it, little Kami.”

  Regardless of the rudeness of the little girl, I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. She’d been raised to believe what she was saying, and even three months ago, I might have agreed with her about the Drae.

  The girl batted her brother's hand away then sniffed and offered me a tentative smile.

  Wow, this girl could change emotions like the weather.

  “Are you one of the lost Phaetyn?” she asked me.

  “Kami, please stop talking,” Kamoi said with a shake of his head. “Just go tell our parents I'm home and I've brought a Phaetyn from Verald as well as Lord Irrik and Lord Dyter. Lord Dyter is King Caltevyn's ambassador.”

  Kamoi rattled the information off quickly, but I noted his sister’s flinch when he said Lord Irrik. Obviously, the Drae was known here, and I felt a flash of irritation at the prince for not giving Tyrrik a clean slate by using his real name. Kamoi clearly meant this as an insult.

  Kamini dropped a perfunctory curtsy and darted away.

  This crawling sense of unease that skittered over my skin and burrowed deep into the pit of my stomach should not be so familiar after so short a time.

  “Is your mother up for visitors, Kamoi?” Dyter asked. “Is she still the one making decisions here in Zivost?”

  Kamoi chuckled after a
pause, but the tension in the air was only reinforced by the forced laugh. “Of course. Queen Alaini makes all of our decisions in regard to our country and our people. Just like the king does in Verald.”

  Without further small talk, Kamoi led us through the open double doors and into the foyer of the stone house.

  Dyter and I exchanged a quick look.

  I might've narrowly missed my calling as Soap Queen of Verald, but that didn't make me an idiot. I’d seen the same hungry looks on the young men in Verald as those on the younger Phaetyn rioting at the tree. Whatever was happening here, either the queen wasn’t making the choices, or she was making the wrong ones. Happy subjects didn’t have that look on their faces.

  Trees didn’t decay when properly tended to.

  Dyter was right. We’d walked into a civil war.

  * * *

  Kamoi led us through the rose quartz home, Dyter and me staggering after while holding up Tyrrik. I swiveled my head without shame to take in the sparkling walls. There was no decoration in the hallways, and I could understand why they’d left the area so sparse with the way the walls glowed as though we’d stepped into another realm. I did wonder if I could maybe chip some of the quartz off and add it to my stash, just one tiny piece. Would anyone even notice?

  “We’ll put Lord Tyrrik in here for now. He’ll be more comfortable,” Kamoi said, entering a small chamber.

  The room had two beds facing the outside wall and a small table between them. A pitcher and bowl sat atop the table, and there was still space for any personal things. The outside wall was a bank of opaque windows, letting in soft filtered light. The room was otherwise bare, but an adjacent door opposite the entrance made me think of the washroom in Tyrrik’s tower. What I wouldn’t give for a bath . . .

  “He’ll be safe while we—”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, hunching over as Dyter and I deposited Tyrrik on the closest bed. I straightened and fixed Kamoi with a hard stare. “How safe will he be, considering we were attacked and required two sets of guards to get here?”

  Kamoi’s violet eyes narrowed, and he raised his voice and called out, “Malaleo.”

  A guard appeared.

  “You and two others are to guard Lord Tyrrik,” Kamoi said with a glance at the Drae. “He is a guest in this house. It’s your responsibility to ensure he does not meet with any harm, or the royal family will take it as a personal insult.”

  He quirked a brow at me, and I rolled my hand in a gesture, indicating for him to continue. There was no way I was going to come back and find he’d been injured. I didn’t quite understand how people twisted words and made loopholes, but I knew words and orders could be easily manipulated and misunderstood by now.

  Kamoi sighed and added, “If we return and find a single scratch on him, your lives are forfeit.”

  The guard shifted uneasily, his gaze darting from Kamoi to me then back.

  Threaten their families, I mouthed, once the guard’s attention was back on the prince.

  Kamoi glared at me.

  Like I care. I smiled back, putting my hand on my hip.

  “And your families will also die,” he said. “Understood?”

  The pale-faced guard nodded and exited the chamber.

  I turned to see Dyter pulling off Tyrrik’s boots. I raced over to help. Grabbing a pillow, I lifted the Drae’s head to push it underneath.

  “Will he be okay, Dyter?” I asked in a low voice. “Shouldn’t he be awake by now?”

  “He came as near to death as is possible for a Drae,” the prince answered. “His healing will be slow, but he will heal.”

  “Don’t sound so happy about it,” I muttered.

  The Phaetyn shrugged, saying, “There will be time to care for the Drae afterward. I will see that everything you need is brought here, but my mother, the queen, awaits us.”

  I stole one last look at Tyrrik’s relaxed face, my gut churning at the thought of leaving him vulnerable. My options were limited, and I hated that. Dyter jerked his head to the door, and I nodded, following Kamoi out.

  “Your wives and children,” I hissed at the, now, three guards outside. I watched their eyes widen, and I hurried after the prince.

  We wound down two more halls before the Phaetyn prince stopped. I bumped into him, putting both of my hands on his back to steady myself. Yep, about as muscular as I expected. I stepped back, rubbing the tip of my nose as he turned around to look at me. I did my best to ignore his small smile, acting as if I’d meant to paw at him like that.

  The smile faded as he took hold of the handle and, with a deep breath, pushed the door open.

  Dyter and I shared a glance, and he entered; there was something more going on, only I wasn’t sure what. I inched into the room after him, and the scent of stagnant air and illness slapped my senses. Someone needed to open a window and air the place out and maybe offer to bathe the queen.

  Queen Alani lay in the middle of a four poster bed made of polished ash. Her sallow skin was almost as blanched of color as the bedding. Deep purple-blue circles marred the area under her eyes, and her silver hair held no luster. Her thin body was hidden in the folds of the hemp blankets, and she didn’t even stir as we came to stand around her large bed.

  Movement in the corner drew my gaze. A handsome man stood there, staring at Dyter and me, gripping a spear though Kamoi’s presence seemed to be holding the man back from advancing. The strange Phaetyn acted like we’d surprised them by entering the room, yet I distinctly remembered the prince telling his sister to go and alert the king and queen of our approach.

  “Kamoi,” the queen whispered, her dry and raspy voice sounding like rubbing paper.

  Everyone turned to the bed, but I angled my body to keep the unknown man in sight.

  “Mother,” Kamoi bent and kissed her waxen cheek. “I have some people I would like you to meet.”

  “If this isn’t a good time . . .” I said, eying the door. The queen looked ready to kick it; she was practically decaying in her bed. The Phaetyn outside already hated me. I didn’t even want to contemplate what they’d do if their leader died with me in the room.

  “It’s as good a time as any,” the queen said. “Help me sit.”

  Kamoi helped prop her against the headboard, stuffing pillows behind her.

  “Are you ill, Queen Alani?” Dyter asked, bowing low.

  “After a fashion, yes,” she said, eyeing first Dyter then me. Her pale lavender eyes were flat and watery.

  Great. Another one of those cryptic people.

  “Mother,” Kamoi said, nodding at the other man. “I traveled to Verald and discovered the rumors to be true. There was indeed another Phaetyn there.” He gestured to me, and I waved. “This is Ryn. She is Drae and Phaetyn.”

  The Queen gasped, “Faatasi uma? Leaga le malaia.”

  I frowned at Dyter. “That didn’t sound complimentary.”

  “Life and death,” the man behind us said. “How is such a thing possible?”

  Why were they acting so surprised? Kamoi tree-talked ahead and told them all this. I held up a hand, which was all I could think of to be polite. No one said anything, so I jumped in and asked the man, “Are you Kamoi’s father?”

  “I apologize, Ryn,” Kamoi said. “Yes, this is my father, Kaelan.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I dipped my head and bobbed a little then did the same to the queen because she was their leader.

  The three Phaetyn observed me, and the silence stretched and became awkward. I shifted my gaze between the three royals, waiting for one of them to speak. Maybe I should’ve asked Dyter for etiquette lessons instead of the history of Gemond.

  Kamoi broke the weird staring contest. “The Ash Tree showed Ryn visions, Mother. She was also able to grant Lord Irrik access through our barrier by resting a hand upon him.”

  “Tyrrik,” I corrected with an edge to my tone. “His name is Tyrrik.”

  Queen Alani’s gaze snapped from Kamoi to me, her eyes now bright and focused. She
studied me, her expression hardening. “Indeed?” she asked, returning her attention to Kamoi.

  “Indeed,” he repeated with a nod.

  The queen shifted in the bed, asking, “What did the tree show you, child?”

  Clearly they didn’t care about Tyrrik’s name. Or mine. I smiled at her, pushing my lips up in a meaningless motion as I replied, “I’m not a child.”

  Dyter cleared his throat, but I ignored his unsubtle hint to mind my manners.

  “You are surely not older than two decades—” she said, her fists gripping the bedcovers.

  “Eighteen.”

  Her violet eyes flashed at my interruption, and she raised her chin. “Eighteen, you say? Then I was right: just a child. Here, we are considered children until seventy. My son has only recently entered adulthood at one hundred and fifty years.”

  Kamoi was one hundred and fifty? He’d aged really well.

  “I am only half Phaetyn,” I replied. “So, I repeat. I’m not a child.”

  “That is what every child would say,” the queen said with a condescending smile.

  I opened my mouth and Dyter took my hand, squeezing it gently.

  “Good,” the queen said, observing my simmering silence. “Now, what did you see when you touched the Ash Tree?”

  Right. She expected me to divulge my secrets after being that rude? “There is a river two miles west of here,” I replied, cocking a hip out. “That’s what the tree showed me.”

  We held each other’s gaze, and I ignored the squeeze from Dyter, another hint for me to pull my head in.

  She sunk into her pillows and closed her eyes. “I have upset you,” she said, stating the obvious. “Let me begin then by telling you why I am so weak. Perhaps then you will trust me with what you saw.”

  I didn’t answer, a creeping sensation filling me. I was beginning to realize entering this place might have been a terrible idea. I may have an enemy in a place I’d never expected to have one.