Shadow Wings: The Darkest Drae: Book two Page 3

  They were Tyrs as I’d named them. Tears to everyone else who didn’t know about the man I’d fallen in love with while captive. A gentle, kind, caring soul who I’d believed I could’ve spent the rest of my life with. If he’d been real.

  I sighed, walking across the Market Circuit, the ring road that went through all twelve Harvest Zones. I entered into the quota fields on the other side of that, trudging through a field of pumpkins. Not one to miss an opportunity, I spat on my hands and touched the pumpkins as I passed, willing them to be huge tomorrow.

  I was reasonably certain the land in Verald would survive while I was away, but a bit of extra pumpkin soup never hurt. I made a mental note to ask the king how he was going to keep his subjects fed. Everyone had just been taking what they wanted thus far, but with the king now coronated, he’d soon have to establish order.

  As I began my climb up the mountain pass to the castle, I pulled down my sleeves to cover the blue scales. The iridescent gem-like additions to my body hadn’t disappeared since I awoke, and they weren’t the only noticeable difference. My mind must’ve been playing tricks because my teeth seemed awfully sharp, and my sense of smell was quite a lot better. Happy birthday to me.

  I chuckled nervously, feeling dizzy. Those things probably meant nothing. My being Drae still wasn’t certain. My gaze fell to my arms, the scales beneath my shirt calling my bluff.

  Reaching the castle gates, I halted and sat on a mound of grass directly outside them. I crossed my legs in my ankle-length, practical, brown skirt, smoothing my deep-blue aketon over the top. Assuming I’d need to wait here for a while, I sank my hands into the ground and sent my Phaetyn mojo out.

  “They’ve been waiting for you in the castle.”

  I didn’t shriek. I’d smelled him coming. Why did he smell so good? Like leather, pine needles, and smoke. I gritted my teeth. “I’m not going into the castle.” Never again. I’d made a vow, and I would keep it, even if it killed me. “You, of all people, should know. If you want me involved in the talk, you’ll need to bring it out here.”

  Lord Tyrrik snorted. Always dressed from head to toe in tight-fitting, liquid black, the Drae looked rumpled this morning. Being a creature of the night, I doubted he appreciated the early start, and it showed in his dark disheveled hair and the slow blink of his eyes. “Would you like me to ask the king to come outside to talk to you?”

  I arched a brow. “That’s what I said.”

  His lips curved into a smile as he dipped his head. “As you wish, Khosana. And . . . happy birthday.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I waved him away. He’d remembered my birthday? Not that forgetting was easy when said birthday ended with me growing wings and alerting the emperor to my existence. What did it mean that he’d remembered? I shook my head. It meant I should return to sending out mojo into the ground. I took my own stellar advice, humming in a deep voice to see if that helped clear my mind of his presence.

  “Ryn,” Dyter said tightly a few minutes later. He strode out of the castle gates toward me, the king trailing in his wake, with Tyrrik and the Phaetyn Prince not far behind.

  Dyter used that tone of voice with me whenever I burned the stew, and I knew he deplored my poor manners to the new sovereign of the kingdom. But Dyter had only a fleeting glance of the horror my life had been inside the castle, so I didn’t hold his irrational feelings against him. Beaming up at him, I said, “Good morning!”

  The irritation on his face softened, but he came and whispered to me, “What you did was disrespectful.”

  What Cal’s father and his crony-Druman, Jotun, did to me was way more disrespectful. I believed Irdelron’s son, Caltevyn, would be just what this kingdom needed. Regardless, I wasn’t about to re-enter the place that still haunted my nightmares. The palace was the setting for some of the worst experiences of my life; I’d meant it when I said I’d never go back inside.

  “My lady,” the prince greeted me, bowing low. As he straightened, his eyes widened.

  “Hey, Kamoi.” I smiled at him, dusting off my skirt as I stood.

  He stared at the ground around me, his mouth agape.

  I glanced downward. Nothing had changed to my eyes, but I could feel that the ground was a lot happier than before, almost like I’d felt after eating Mum’s lavender honey-cakes. Could he feel it too? Or what did he see?

  Caltevyn, the king, reached for my hand, and I jerked it back. Dyter gasped and the others silenced, but Caltevyn merely surveyed me for a few seconds before dropping his hand and saying, “I understand you would prefer to conduct the discussion outdoors. I should’ve thought of it myself, dear Ryn. I’m sorry.”

  “Right,” I said, uncomfortable with his courtesy. I made some semblance of a curtsey to make up for snatching my hand away and scanned the others. “So?”

  The king smiled. “So, I’m told all of you must make a journey to Zivost. Once the emperor knows my father is dead, and there is a stray Phaetyn about, his curiosity will be piqued.”

  “It’ll be more than piqued when he feels her existence tonight,” Tyrrik said darkly.

  My mouth dried. “Why? He can feel your existence, and he isn’t chasing you down.”

  He cast me a look. “You are a female Drae.”

  I grimaced at what he left unspoken. “Cool. Great . . . Awesome. That’s . . . that’s awesome.”

  My legs folded as I returned to my spot on the ground.

  “You are also Drae?” the prince said, aghast. “How is that possible?”

  Tyrrik opened his mouth but darted a look at me and pressed his lips together, not answering.

  The prince’s face firmed. “That is . . . unprecedented, but we must leave immediately. She’ll be safest with my people.”

  The king turned to Dyter. “You must go with them, my friend, as my voice.”

  Dyter bowed low. “I know it is best, but I don’t like leaving you now. Be careful, Caltevyn. You’re still vulnerable to attack.”

  Caltevyn smiled, but his kind blue eyes hardened. “I have Lord Tyrrik’s Druman. I am not without protection, and through them, Tyrrik will be able to tell if any are slaughtered. The Zivost Forest is only five days on horseback from here”—his gaze slid to the Drae—“less as the Drae flies, I imagine.”

  The king turned to the Phaetyn prince. “Kamoi, the time is soon coming when our kingdoms must unite. I believe it will be the only way to defeat the great evil.”

  “The emperor?” The Phaetyn pursed his lips.

  “It is our plan to unite the three kingdoms and the Phaetyn against him. To rid Draeconia of his vile presence once and for all. We have a Drae on our side, and,” he continued, dipping his head at me, “I hope we soon have two. Your people are equally powerful in their own right. I hope you will discuss this with your liege and your people.”

  The Phaetyn prince crossed his arms and shifted his weight from foot to foot. He caught me watching and assembled his features, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I will take your proposal to my mother, King Caltevyn.”

  “It is all I can ask,” the king replied. He clapped Dyter on the shoulder. “Lord Dyter is my chief advisor and truly my right-hand man. He will act in my stead and answer any questions you may have.”

  The prince’s eyes shifted to Dyter, then to me again, then finally to Lord Tyrrik where they rested, but the Phaetyn did not speak again.

  4

  Dyter stepped forward on the grassy knoll, bowing to the king again. “We will take our leave, your majesty. I’ve horses and provisions readied for an immediate departure.”

  “What about my provisions though?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. “You can’t have mine ready because you didn’t know if I’d come or not.”

  With a sardonic laugh, Dyter jerked his thumb at Kamoi, and they went back through the castle gates. Tyrrik lingered just far enough away to give the appearance of privacy. The king remained, and I shifted, searching for a topic. Before I could come up with something, he spoke.

  “I don’t bla
me you, you know?” he said with a kind smile. “For not wanting to enter the castle.”

  I shrugged, feeling an obligation to explain. “It’s not you. I just . . .”

  The sandy-haired king reached out to rest a hand on my shoulder but caught himself and withdrew the caring gesture. He tipped his head down to meet my eyes. “I know, Ryn. My father was awful; believe me, I know. You don’t need to explain.”

  I reckon he probably did know. My disposition toward the king softened. “So . . . how’s it going?”

  He chuckled. “Fairly well, all things considered.”

  I thought of the pumpkins on my walk up to the castle. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you’ll keep everyone fed.”

  He gave me a sad smile. “Thanks to you and what you learned about Phaetyn blood, I don’t believe we will need to worry about that. My father had vials of blood that Prince Kamoi has given permission for us to use to renew the land. It will likely last several decades. We’ll have plenty of food to fill the emperor’s quota, send the expected supply to the other two kingdoms, and have ample amounts to feed our own. My plan is to establish a ticket system people can use as a means to exchange for food from our royal market stands.”

  “Like using coin.”

  “Yes, but worthless for anything other than picking up food rations each week. The system will be based on need, not wealth or status.”

  I smiled. “I like that idea.”

  Dyter and the others approached with our steeds. I eyed the beasts nervously. Tyrrik separated from the others, leading two of the horses. As he approached, he passed me the strap of leather attached to my horse. It was like a looped leash.

  The others mounted, and the king spoke to us, stepping to one side. “I wish you Drae’s speed on your journey, my friends. When the time comes to fight, I shall be beside you, an army at my back.”

  After a mumbled goodbye, the others looked at me, still holding the strap attached to my horse. I tugged the leash but scooted away as the animal came toward me.

  A low sigh alerted me to Tyrrik’s approach. I glanced up to see him stalking toward me.

  How was it that the horses didn’t want to run away when he looked like that? He could eat them in one gulp in his Drae form. But my horse just stayed next to me, waiting.

  “You don’t know how to ride,” he stated.

  I blustered and stuttered, hating to admit that I was once again the weakest link.

  Tyrrik raised a brow, and I deflated, saying, “No.”

  “Sorry, Rynnie. I forgot,” Dyter said, tucking a case into his saddlebag with a nod to the king.

  My friend wasn’t even looking at me and didn’t seem the least bit sorry, so I scowled his way.

  “I’ve just got to sit on the thing?” I asked, assessing the horse. They didn’t look all that big until I was standing next to one. But how hard could it be?

  The Drae paused. “There is a little more to it than that. Perhaps you best ride with me for a few hours.”

  The polite façade we’d kept up so far disintegrated in an instant. The idea of having Tyrrik’s arms around me left me nauseated and chilled. “I’d rather ride with the emperor.”

  His painful inhale was the only indication my words had achieved their purpose. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down around him. I wouldn’t let him lull me back into his twisted web.

  A heavy moment passed before Tyrrik averted his inky eyes. With a clenched jaw, he stepped closer, though. His hands were at my waist, burning through my aketon and skirt for a scant beat before I found myself atop the horse. He withdrew contact as soon as I was situated.

  I adjusted to sit astride the mount, hiking my long skirt up to the knee. The Drae’s eyes fell to the now bared skin of my calf, and heat filled my cheeks.

  Without meeting his gaze, I asked, “Now what?”

  He closed his eyes, clicked his tongue, and the horse moved forward.

  I gathered the reins and held on for dear life, the feel of the horse’s shoulders rolling beneath me utterly foreign. But I didn’t fall off, so as I reached the others, I offered a cheeky smile and called, “You better get trotting ahead of me. I don’t know how to stop this thing.”

  Dyter grinned and clicked his tongue. “Don’t worry, my girl. We have four days to teach you on the way.”

  Lord Tyrrik rode beside me, and I forced myself to ignore him. I let my gaze wander as we rode away from the castle. Over the Quota Fields which now displayed vibrant-green growth, then the bustling Market Circuit, then the prosperous Money Coil. As we exited the Inbetween, I marveled at the growth of the plants of Verald.

  When we reached the Penny Wheel, Tyrrik drew near.

  “By nightfall, we’ll be out of Verald and in the mountains of Gemond.”

  I’d never been out of Verald before. In my memory, anyway. Then again, I’d never experienced a lot of things before three months ago. Most of which I’d never asked for.

  “But this far into the outskirts of Gemond, King Zakai has little control over the nomads who roam there. You should not wander by yourself. Especially not tonight.”

  Tonight. Another change I’d never asked for would be added to my list. Rolling my eyes, I replied, “Wonderful. I can’t wait.”

  “Happy eighteenth birthday,” Dyter said, pulling his horse up next to mine. “I had plans to make you a muffin.”

  “What happened?”

  He shrugged. “The only kitchen was in The Raven’s Hollow, and that was destroyed in untimely fashion.”

  I smiled. “Well, I thank you for the thought of planning to make me a muffin.”

  “How’re you doing, anyway?” he asked then jerked a thumb at my horse. “You’re a natural rider.”

  I raised my eyebrows at his blatant lie. My legs ached from sitting astride the animal for so long, and I was sure the steed was just as tired of me as I was of it. An hour ago, Tyrrik had informed me I didn’t need to clench my legs so tight, that I’d stay on top even without clinging for dear life. I’d tried to relax, really I had, but I found myself, time and again, squeezing my legs to make sure I didn’t slide off. After hours of riding, every single muscle in my body was taut, and my emotions were just as knotted. “I’m freaking amazing,” I drawled. “Never better, in fact.”

  We hadn’t stopped for lunch, just once for a bush restroom stop. Whatever fluids I’d consumed hadn’t been enough. What I really wanted was some of that nectar Tyrrik used to give me. But he hadn’t offered me any in the last four days. Unsurprising when I’d made it clear I wanted nothing to do with him. Which also meant I couldn’t ask him for nectar either.

  “For it being your first time on a horse, you really are doing well,” Dyter amended. “I’m sorry this is tough and so soon after . . . well, everything.”

  His kindness undid me. My eyes welled with tears, and I stared up at the blue sky until I could blink them away.

  “Come now, Lord Dyter,” Prince Kamoi said, drawing near. “Don’t upset our beautiful companion.”

  He smiled at me, and I couldn’t help returning the gesture. Something about the Phaetyn prince infused me with warmth. I liked to think it was the qualities of his personality, but I suspected a fair portion of the warmth was due to more superficial traits.

  “Tell me, my Ryn, what was your childhood like? Tell me your favorite foods, your favorite colors, your favorite everything. I want to know all about you.”

  Tyrrik growled. “Maybe she doesn’t want to tell you.”

  The prince waved away Tyrrik’s protestation. “Ridiculous. We are practically kin. Not related, you understand, but joined by something you wouldn’t understand, Lord Drae.” The Phaetyn winked at me. “We’ll make a game of it. I’ll tell you something, then you tell me. One for one.”

  I nodded. “Keep it light though, please?” I darted a glance at Tyrrik and averted my gaze as soon as our eyes locked. Blushing, I added, “There are some things I’m not ready . . .”

  The prince rested his hand on my leg
, and his warmth infused with me. “Of course not, Ryn. I would never want to make you uncomfortable.” He removed his hand and with a deep breath, said, “Now, where to begin? My favorite color is green. What’s yours?”

  “Blue,” I said. “The color of the night sky right after the sun dips below the horizon.”

  “Beautiful,” he said, his violet eyes bright. “My favorite food is morel mushroom bisque.”

  What the hay was that? I tilted my head and thought. I’d had lots of different foods while staying in Irrik’s, I mean Tyrrik’s, rooms, and so much of it was delicious. “I like honey-cakes, or burnt sugar. Oh, and this fruity. . .” Nectar. Ducking my head, I said, “My mum’s honey-cakes are my favorite.”

  Kamoi studied me before continuing. “I was born in the Zivost forest, in the very heart of our land. My father was married to the queen of our people, Luna Nuloa. When she died without children, my father inherited her throne, and after a decade of mourning, he bonded with my mother. I am the oldest child, but I have a younger sister, Kamini. Now, will you tell me of your family?”

  I listened to his tale of Phaetyn royalty and took pains to remember it then shrugged. “My mum and I lived in Harvest Zone Seven. She was my only family.”

  He furrowed his brow. “And your father?”

  Lord Tyrrik growled again, and I rolled my eyes though I felt a similar irritation rise within me. “I never knew him.”

  Prince Kamoi pursed his lips. “I’m sorry. I hope you have not suffered for it.”

  “Dyter was the only father I needed,” I said, clenching my teeth. The anger spiked, and a distant part of me wondered why I was getting so mad. I was being irrational, but I couldn’t help but think the Phaetyn prince was a dolt. I also couldn’t help feeling suddenly and unaccountably furious about that. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and noticed his fair skin was flushed, immediately feeling bad for my rudeness.

  “I beg your pardon, my lady. I didn’t know. Of course, Lord Dyter has proven to be most intelligent in the short time of our acquaintance.”