Shadow Wings: The Darkest Drae: Book two Page 25

  I blinked. Trying to make sense of why his reasonable statement and thoughtful apology made me so unreasonably angry while simultaneously breaking my heart.

  I faced forward and asked Dyter’s back, “Did you tell him that’s how I felt?”

  “No,” they chorused.

  I turned back to Tyrrik.

  He watched me, inky eyes pools of darkness that seemed to mirror his soul’s secrets.

  I located the source of my anger as I stared into his eyes, and it wasn’t what I’d expected. I was oddly thankful Tyrrik had forced his way in, against my better judgment, because how would I have ever opened that door between us? Now I’d experienced that mental connection, I could appreciate all the comfort having Tyrrik in my head had to offer. If the choice had been mine to speak in Tyrrik’s head first? I probably would have resisted it with everything I had. Even saying that, I knew on some level I’d clearly accepted our telepathy or I’d be fighting it still. Was that what I was doing with the mating bond? Was I resisting it just for the sake of resisting? Maybe Tyrrik’s behavior since being released from the blood oath wasn’t meant to be manipulative. Maybe he was just wary of giving his trust, too.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but rational thought fled when I smelled them. My body flooded with terror, and I whispered, “Druman.”

  Tyrrik’s face blanched and his eyes widened as he inhaled me, my fear. His face hardened, his black eyes gaining a wild edge as he reacted to the terror seeping out of my pores.

  I blinked, and in less than a heartbeat Tyrrik was Drae.

  He roared, a sound of defiance and challenge. Thrashing his tail, he twisted his neck and stomped as he tried to gain his footing on the mountain side. Talons clutching the boulders, he leapt into the air, whipped in a circle, and exhaled a stream of scalding fire into the trees behind us. Druman’s screams filled the air. Tyrrik bellowed his hatred into the sky, neck outstretched. Roaring flames devoured the trees, and Dyter’s loud gasp echoed in my ears

  Tyrrik roared again, vibrant fire poured from between his deadly fangs, but there was something off about his roar. Then the world tilted, and as I fell back, already my mind told me the feeling of disorientation wasn’t originating from me. The air around his Drae form shimmered, and a full minute later, far too long I knew, Tyrrik’s human form lay in the dirt. Agony squeezed my chest, wringing my heart until I saw him lift his head.

  Go, Tyrrik mouthed, his face white and sweating. The emperor will come. The effort of shifting to kill the Druman had completely drained him.

  I grabbed Dyter. “Can you point me to Gemond?”

  I didn’t wait for him to answer. I shifted, the change rippling over me in the time it took me to exhale. I scooped Dyter into one foreclaw and Tyrrik into the other, leaping into the air using my hind legs as soon as I had them secure.

  I screamed my rage across the mountain peaks, wishing I could exact revenge on the dead Druman all over again for taking what little energy Tyrrik had. But Tyrrik’s and Dyter’s safety took precedence over everything right now. I had to get them to safety.

  Something pinched me, and I heard Dyter’s muffled voice yell, “Too tight.”

  I loosened my grip on the two males in my claws and pushed higher into the air. As soon as I’d cleared the mountaintops, I realized I didn’t need Dyter to tell me the way to Gemond. I could see the kingdom from here.

  The minutes as I bolted across the skies felt like hours. Each second, I imagined the emperor’s flames licking the back of my neck, but my initial panic about Tyrrik diminished as I studied his state through our touch. He was unconscious but still breathing. There was no gold Phaetyn poison in his pitch-black Drae; he was literally depleted.

  My fear had set him off. He hadn’t been able to resist shifting after he inhaled and my terror hit him. He’d pushed himself for me, all this time, again and again. He . . . truly couldn’t control his reaction to me. I hadn’t believed him until now.

  Yet Tyrrik was trying to control his reaction, against his very instincts, because I had been unable to understand why he couldn’t act as human males would, as Arnik might have done, even as Kamoi would have. What did it say that Tyrrik was doing that, something which I could now see was near impossible for a Drae, all for me?

  The setting sun bathed the valley of Gemond in warm golden light as I soared down the final mountainside to the valley below. The realm was surrounded by majestic peaks, and like in Verald, the castle was nestled in the center of the vale. I pushed my emotions into the recesses of my mind, locking them away to deal with later. Later, when we were safe. Later, when we weren’t being chased by Druman. Later, when the King of Gemond hopefully didn’t eat us. Later, when . . . There would never be a perfect time to discuss what Tyrrik and I needed to, so I settled on the next best thing. Later, when Tyrrik was conscious again.

  I landed outside the granite gates and bellowed my arrival before setting Tyrrik and Dyter down on the ground. Being afraid of landing with them hadn’t occurred to me which showed how stupid a thing fear was.

  I would conquer my reaction to the presence of Druman if it was the last thing I did.

  The gate cracked open, and two stocky golden-plated soldiers with rounded helmets lurched forward, stutter-stepping as they saw me. They halted well out of reach of my swinging tail. Clever men. I wouldn’t hesitate to use it; I hadn’t come all this way to have Dyter or Tyrrik killed by guards dressed in gold. How stupid. Gold was soft. Was this just to show their wealth? I ran my gaze over the gold soldiers. I bet their armor was worth a pretty penny. The two men would look great in my collection . . . but I’d have to feed them.

  Dyter got to his feet and ran his hand over his head as he gulped several breaths. He looked a little green after the flight. I narrowed my Drae eyes, daring him to insult my aerial ability.

  “Thank you, Ryn,” he said.

  My tail twitched at the blatant lie.

  He turned to the guards and announced us. “We seek an audience with King Zakai. Please inform him that Lord Tyrrik the . . . Free Drae, Dyter of Verald—ambassador to King Caltevyn, and Ryn are here.”

  I practically gave myself Drae whiplash at that. I lowered my head to Dyter, a low growl rumbling in my chest. Shouldn’t I be Ryn the Coolest Drae, or Ryn the Phaetyn-Drae? Or maybe Ryn the Phaetyn-Drae, daughter of Ryhl—

  Dyter eyed me nervously and blurted, “I mean to say, Ryn the most powerful Drae.”

  Most powerful Drae. I smiled, showing every one of my fangs to Dyter who rolled his eyes. I could work with most powerful Drae.

  The guards disappeared, and minutes later, the heavy gates inched opened with an ominous groan. The shiny soldiers bowed us through, and I picked up Tyrrik in my claw, walking forward awkwardly. I ducked through the high gate and straightened inside the cavernous mountain space. In the distance, I heard another Drae roar, and my heart raced, knowing who it would be. The gates closed behind me, and my Drae jaw dropped as I stared at the royal lands of Gemond.

  Mistress Butt-moon.

  I shook off the shock, and the air shimmered as I shifted back to my Phaetyn form.

  I pushed my silver hair behind my ears, one leg on either side of Tyrrik’s body, and studied the guards. Their shock halted their advance. They really weren’t dumb.

  I knelt by Tyrrik and rested my head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady. How long would Tyrrik need to rest before regaining his strength now that we would have the comfort and resources he would need—if the king felt like giving those to us? After seeing what I’d seen, I couldn’t be sure.

  Satisfied Tyrrik wasn’t in immediate danger, I took in my surroundings. The castle walls were encrusted with gems at least seven or eight feet up from the floor. I had no idea how one would get rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds to stick to the stone, but there they were, ripe and ready for the picking . . . if someone was inclined to do so for the sake of her collection.

  Dyter cleared his throat, and I realized I’d been star
ing and missed the welcoming party that now stood before us.

  Three men, dressed in ill-fitting uniforms, nodded in unison. The one in front spoke.

  “Welcome to Gemond. King Zakai is resting, but he’s asked that we take you to your rooms. He will join you for supper tonight.”

  I resisted the urge to let my attention return to the precious gems and forced myself to look at the men.

  These men were likely in their thirties or forties, if Gemond people aged normally, but their sunken cheeks and thin frames made them appear much older. Two were missing one of their arms, and their empty sleeves were tucked into their belts. The third one wore an eye patch, and the left side of his face had large chunks of flesh missing. The only indication of their true age was the smoothness of their skin around their eyes where the skin was visible.

  I thought of the women outcasts in the mountains and how they’d resorted to cannibalism to stay alive. These men weren’t as emaciated, but they weren’t healthy by any stretch. My disgust for King Zakai multiplied as I wondered how a king could have unlimited wealth and still starve his people. And he was resting, taking a late afternoon nap and couldn’t be bothered to greet the ambassador of Verald. How could the king rest while such hardship was everywhere around him? Queen Alani had spent her life resting. Was this king the same? Yet another leader who was taking advantage of his people? My face firmed, and I tried to come up with a way to say what I thought in a way that wouldn’t get us murdered. However, Dyter beat me to it.

  “My Lord Tyrrik has fallen ill and will require a dark room with ample access to water,” Dyter said. “If you were to have a suite where we could all reside, we would be most grateful. The Drae will need his . . . he will require significant attention, and if we don’t have to break up our traveling party—”

  “We’ll take you to your rooms where you can wash, rest, and have a light luncheon. Supper is still several hours away.”

  I slid my gaze to Dyter, but his attention was fixed on our escort. Something was bothering him, but I didn’t dare ask. Worrying about the problems of yet another race would have to wait until Tyrrik was cared for.

  I cleared my throat and jerked my head at Tyrrik. “I’d sure appreciate your help, Lord Dyter.”

  I had no idea what role I was meant to play here, and I didn’t want to do anything to screw up Dyter’s plans. Not yet.

  When I met King Zakai, I might rip his head off, but for right now, I had more pressing concerns.

  32

  “What are you doing?” Dyter asked.

  I jumped, and the dagger I held clattered to the stone floor of the huge bathroom.

  “Nothing,” I said, clearing my throat.

  Leaning down, I scooped the dagger up and passed it to Dyter who stood in the ornate archway.

  He looked past me to the large emerald in the wall. The one that now had scratch marks around it from where I’d tried to pry it out. I wasn’t perfect, and I was the first to admit it.

  “When did you wake up?” he asked, sheathing the dagger in the scabbard at his belt.

  “Not long ago.” Long enough for me to use the restroom and get distracted by that emerald. He wasn’t going to make it easy for me to get that blade back either. I was going to need to find another tool.

  “How long did we sleep?” I asked. Judging by the stiffness I’d felt upon awaking, our nap had been more than a few hours.

  I followed Dyter back into the large bedroom, and the sparkling walls captured my attention before I forced it back to the old man. This place was driving me crazy, although I could see why they shoved gems into the dark gray walls. The refracted jewel-toned light in here was deep and rich. If I had a lair, I would want it to be like this.

  “A guard came to the door before,” Dyter said. “We slept nearly eighteen hours.”

  I whistled low, but I wasn’t truly surprised. We hadn’t really rested since setting out from Verald, and even then, there had been the overhanging feeling of danger. Dyter had placed his packs in front of the sole door into our echoing, shared chamber, and after tending to Tyrrik—shoving as much food as possible into the slurring man—we’d slipped into a deep slumber.

  “Is the king rested enough to see us now?” I asked, sitting on the narrow bed beside Tyrrik. His beard was filling in, and dirt smudged his cheek. I looked down at my tattered dress. I needed a bath and some clean clothes.

  Tyrrik jolted at the movement and then blinked up at me.

  “Evening,” I said, reaching for a platter of fruit. I grabbed a bunch of grapes and popped one in my mouth.

  We’d received plenty of food yesterday, and the guards had brought us more. This king was no good. If he could spare all this, he could afford to feed his people.

  Tyrrik rolled onto his back, and I stiffened as the blanket fell mid-way down his bare chest. I know I usually slept next to that each night, but at night I could pretend our sleeping arrangements didn’t mean anything. In the light of day, noticing his sculpted chest somehow meant more. Tyrrik plucked a grape from my hand and dropped the red globe in his mouth. He leaned back, placing one hand behind his head.

  I took him in and swallowed. Holy pancakes. Look at the sparkling gems, Ryn. But I just stared at the Drae.

  “So . . .” Dyter said, breaking the spell.

  “Yes?” I said, facing him eagerly. I needed to get myself under better control. If he laughed, I’d hit him.

  He didn’t. “We’re expected in a couple of hours.”

  Great. I cracked my knuckles. “Time to heal Tyrrik then.”

  Tyrrik shook his head. “I’m fine. In a few hours, I’ll be able to get through the meeting with the king.”

  “You’re fine? You exhausted yourself and collapsed on the ground . . . unconscious.”

  “But I slept eighteen hours,” he said. “There’s no need for you to deplete your energy.”

  I rested my hands on his chest under the guise of healing him, which I guess I was, but—yeah—there were also ulterior motives. Classic trick.

  I peeked up at Tyrrik and scowled at the wry smile on his lips.

  I ignored him and tuned into my Phaetyn energy. Kamini was right, each time I used my powers, healing became easier, just like making plants grow. There wasn’t any gold poison in Tyrrik at all now. In fact, his body was fine, just like he’d said, but the flow of his blood was sluggish, and I could feel his exhaustion.

  I studied the pulsing blue power coursing down my arms and gathering in my hands, invisible to all but me. I guess I’d stuff as much in as possible to help him regain his stamina. I exhaled and opened the gates of my Phaetyn powers, the energy immediately flowing into him. I took another breath and threw the force at Tyrrik.

  With a yell, he jolted a meter in the air and flopped on the bed.

  I echoed his yell, jumping away from the bed, frightened by the strength of his reaction. Holding my hands in the air, I stared at him. “Are you al’right? What just happened?”

  Dyter snorted. “I saw a donkey do that once when it was branded.”

  Tyrrik panted and pushed up to sitting, the blanket puddling at his waist.

  “Whoa, Tyrrik, you’re practically glowing,” I said fidgeting on the spot. There was a bluish aura around his body. Maybe I’d over healed him. Was that a thing?

  “Maybe a bit slower next time,” he wheezed, slumping back. “And less at once.”

  That was nice of him. I sat next to him again and cautiously lay a hand on his chest, silently wondering if glowing was healthy. I frowned as I studied his new state. I’d poured plenty of energy into him, but the aura around his body faded, soaking into him like he was a dry sponge.

  “You need more,” I said. “But I think we better wait a little.”

  Tyrrik’s face was smooth and relaxed now, but he rested a hand over where mine lay against his chest. “Yes, Khosana. That might be a good idea.”

  I met his eyes, heat creeping into my cheeks. “And you’re not coming to dinner,” I said, m
y voice a breathy whisper. I cleared my throat and tried again, but my words came out more like pillow talk. “You’ll be resting.”

  The tone of my voice made it sound like I was asking to rest with him, but I couldn’t seem to find enough protest within myself to clarify the point. Our bond pulsed, and I felt his desire quicken.

  He inhaled sharply, and black scales erupted where our skin touched, climbing up his arm. I stared at the luminescent blue in their depths, and my breath caught at the intimacy of his response.

  “I don’t know what’s happening,” Dyter said. “But I know I don’t want to watch it.”

  His voice was distant and worked its way to my awareness slowly. I finally blinked, severing contact with Tyrrik’s intense onyx eyes. When had our gazes met?

  My hand was shaking as I slid my arm free, but there was something I’d promised to say.

  “Tyrrik,” I said, still perching on the edge of the bed though I planned to make a quick getaway after this. “I just wanted you to know that you can listen in my head.” I winced at the garbled words. “Like put your head in mine.” I sighed and stood. That bath-gem-getaway seemed like a good idea right now. “Anyway, you know what I mean. Thank you for being respectful and asking. I really appreciate that, and I’m okay with your thoughts rubbing against mine.”

  I glanced back and saw Dyter’s eyes were squeezed shut.

  “That’s not exactly what I meant—” I blurted.

  “Ryn,” Tyrrik said.

  I peeked up and saw him studying me with heightened intensity. His lips parted as he took a deep breath.