I awoke early. Even curled against Tyrrik, my sleep had been restless. Not just because our argument hung heavy between us, but today the Phaetyn would start their march toward Gemond.
“Khosana,” Tyrrik murmured, pulling my back against the length of his body.
The warmth of his presence only made my heart hurt more. I rested my head against his arm, reviewing the words I’d rehearsed in the dark. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings last night.”
I held my breath, waiting for his answer.
“And I am sorry to have hurt yours.” He pressed his lips on top of my hair.
What we hadn’t said seemed to speak louder—but I refused to retract what I’d said.
Yet I loved him. There was so much chaos surrounding us that having contention between us didn’t seem right. I rolled to face him, seeing my conflict reflected in his gaze as we stared, unspeaking, at each other. We didn’t have to agree on everything to be together. I knew that. And he knew that. Searching his face, I wiggled my arm free and rested my hand against his cheek. His whiskers were rough on my skin, and his heat trickled into me. Biting my lip, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.
Searing heat pulsed between us, and the urge for more thrummed through me. Tyrrik growled, nipping at my lip, and his hands gripped my waist and pulled me closer. Our tongues brushed against each other, and I arched, instinctively pressing my body tighter to his, gasping when he trailed hot kisses down my neck, stopping to suck the sensitive skin. Our bodies were tugged closer together as though a rope had been jerked tight about our middles. My feet found purchase on his calves, pushing me up on their own accord. My thoughts clouded with want, and I pressed harder into Tyrrik, aching for more. Tyrrik’s hands seemed to be everywhere, my waist, my thigh, then higher on my torso, his thumb grazing the underside of my breast.
“Mate.”
The deep rumble of the single word vibrated in the walls. I shivered as his possessive claim swept through me, my head falling back as he pressed hot kisses down my neck and just above my collarbone. His teeth rested against the base of my neck, and my eyes widened, my breath halting as he held his lengthened fangs over our mark. For some reason, I knew a bite there would be significant. He’d done it too often for me to miss the gesture.
I remained still as his breath warmed my skin, my heart galloping wildly. As his lips drew over his fangs. He kissed the spot, whisper-soft, and slid a hand behind my head to draw my face to his and crush his mouth against mine.
“Tyrrik,” I moaned into his mouth, energy coursing through me.
We grabbed and pulled, kneaded and stroked, our hands frenzied. My mind was everywhere at once and yet wholly consumed with this man, my mate. I needed more. “Please.”
Our teeth gnashed together, but neither one of us relented.
My fingernails lengthened, clawing down the front of his aketon, leaving no blemish in his smooth, bronze skin because he was mine and I was his. I pushed my hands over the ridges of his muscular chest, gripping his shoulders.
He rolled above me, and his hands bunched in the front of my nightgown, his eyes wild. His intention clear.
“Yes,” I panted. I wanted the cumbersome garment gone. I needed him closer.
The fabric tore slightly, my heart, mind, and body all ready for more.
“Lord Tyrrik and Lady Ryn,” a voice interrupted, muffled by the door to the chamber. The staccato pounding barely registered. “Is everything all right in there?”
The words made no sense as I lay panting with Tyrrik above me.
Something else was said, but my mind barely registered the sound.
I blinked, and Tyrrik was gone. The groan of shearing metal and splintering wood pierced through my foggy mind, and then the chamber door was ripped from its hinges as my mate slammed a Phaetyn against the far wall of the passage.
That doused what was left of my passion, and I leapt off the bed, yelling, “Tyrrik! Don’t kill him!”
I rushed to his side, the quartz walls blurring with my speed, and gripped his wrist, pushing my body between the two. Tyrrik’s hand was wrapped around the throat of a Phaetyn guard.
“Tyrrik,” I said. “Hey. He’s no threat. He’s a guard. He thought . . .” I had no idea what he thought, and I threw out, “He thought we were hurt.”
The Drae’s eyes were inky and wide, his fangs well past his chin. I continued to talk to him, touching my hand to his skin, calling his name, and slowly my words seemed to penetrate the bucket of desire his head was in. The black receded from his eyes, and he blinked at the man, releasing him without warning. The guard crumpled on the ground.
“Ah . . . Sorry,” I called after the Phaetyn as he scrambled away from us and sprinted down the hall. I scratched my chin, certain the incident wouldn’t do anything to help endear us to the Phaetyn. Though it was a blip to what else I’d done.
Tyrrik turned in the now empty passage and tugged me to him. He kissed the top of my head and whispered, “Holy pancakes.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “You did not just say that.”
He smiled dryly, eyeing the mangled wooden door to our chamber lying in the passageway with us. “I might’ve briefly forgotten myself.”
I laughed again, gasping for air between my chortling. When I’d reigned in my laughter, I managed to say, “You just strangled someone because he knocked on the door.”
There I went, showing off my brilliance. I shook my head in disbelief. Was this really my life now? I’d been a Drae for just over a month, and I’d known I was Phaetyn for longer, but if any moment hammered in how strange I could expect my future to be, if we survived this war, it was now.
“Well, that was some kiss,” Tyrrik announced before moving to pick up the door.
A kiss I’d like to continue, I shot at him. Really, I wanted to hear him saying holy pancakes again. My new goal in life. I smoothed the front of my rumpled nightgown, eying the tear that exposed my collarbone. I looked up to see Tyrrik watching me. I raised my eyebrows in question but decided to ask something else instead. “Do you think that guard was meant to deliver a message?”
Tyrrik sighed, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “We should probably go and find out.”
I looked at him, Lord Broody-Drae. He was totally sulking. Not that I could blame him. Honestly, I kind of wanted to after the way our handsy wake up could’ve gone.
Leaving the door, which didn’t fit in the doorway anymore, we walked toward Lani’s meeting room, the same room Kamini had been in when we first arrived.
Just as we reached the entrance, Tyrrik touched my elbow, drawing my attention back to him.
I quirked a brow and waited.
“I’m glad we were interrupted,” he said.
“You sure look glad,” I said, quirking a brow. I pointed to his shredded aketon. “And we probably should’ve taken a moment to get dressed.”
He lifted a shoulder, expression wry. He closed the distance between us and folded one torn flap of my nightgown over the other. “I’m a Drae who has found his mate. The urge to bed you is nearly as strong as the urge to protect you.” He ran his fingertips over my lips and said, “But I do mean it. Your first time shouldn’t be like that.”
“I don’t think my ticker will continue ticking if there’s too much more than that before the aketons come off,” I said truthfully.
Tyrrik’s eyes heated and he crowded me, pushing my back into the wall as his hand slipped over my collarbone.
The door to Lani’s office opened with a creak.
I jumped and spun, my hands going to my torn gown.
Lani stood in the doorway, glowering. A peek past her revealed the guard Tyrrik had strangled . . . a little. I hadn’t done anything wrong, so why did I feel like I’d been caught with my face in the honey syrup jar?
I cleared my throat, attempting to sound stern. “What’s the news?”
Lani threw me an exasperated look. “Are you kidding me? You’d know if your rampant
hormones weren’t tearing the castle apart.”
Graphic, but accurate.
One glance at Tyrrik showed he wasn’t bothered by the queen’s reaction. Of course not.
“So—” I drew the word out until she spoke.
“So, my people are nearly ready to go,” she said, lifting her head enough to include Tyrrik in her scowl.
The elderly and children had departed yesterday at first light for Verald, escorted by a guard of fifty. The rest of the Phaetyn, the vast majority, would march under Lani’s barrier toward Gemond. Tyrrik and I would fly ahead to alert King Zakai.
The morning light had chased away the largest of my doubts. There was so much I had no control over, but Dyter and Cal had been planning this for years. When we got back, a group of us would push on to Azule and rally them to our side. It wouldn’t matter that I had no experience in a war of this magnitude; I was surrounded by those whose only thoughts for years were of tearing down Draedyn. I wasn’t in this alone, and I had to remember that in the days ahead.
“Have you got everything you need?” Tyrrik asked Lani.
She shrugged. “We won’t want for food, and I’ll cloak us the entire way. We have plenty of weapons coated in our blood.” Her face twisted. “I sincerely hope we come across some Druman on the way.”
I wasn’t the only one who wanted revenge, and I suspected Lani’s urge was motivated even more by the need to prove herself to her people.
Me? I needed to make things right. I’d accepted blame for what happened, even if it was because I hadn’t done enough practice and not put enough stock in Tyrrik’s warning of what the emperor could do. I still had to make things right and get Kamoi and Kamini back. If anything happened to them, I’d never forgive myself.
“When do you leave?” I asked, dragging my focus back to the queen as the guard edged around Tyrrik and escaped the room.
“One hour.” Her voice was firm, but there was a wild look in her eyes as if she couldn’t believe what was happening.
I understood. None of this felt real even though the evidence was all around us. “Al’right,” I said, glancing between Tyrrik and the Phaetyn queen. I took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
The Phaetyn queen lifted her chin, the ghost of a smile softening her lips. She arched a brow and said, “You might want to get dressed first.”
13
Halfway to Gemond, the sharp, acrid smell of ash settled on the tip of my sensitive tongue. I exhaled, hoping the scent would diminish as we flew—perhaps the smoke was just a fire from one of the settlements of Gemond elders. Maybe they were burning their useless huts and making their way back to the hub of the kingdom now that the land was healing.
The darkness of night did nothing to obstruct my vision in this form, but the jutting peaks of the mountain ranges hid the valleys ahead, and the low-hanging clouds concealed the rising trail of the smoke.
Do you smell that?
I swallowed before answering. I’d hoped it was just me.
No. Definitely not just you.
The strain in Tyrrik’s voice was palpable through our mental bond. When he increased his speed, I knew something was wrong.
What is it? I narrowed my eyes. Don’t tell me you can see through clouds. Because that would not be fair.
What clouds? he asked, glancing up at the sky. Ryn . . .
I swiveled my long neck to glance up, and the stars winked at me. Peering back the way we’d come, I saw the velvet stretch of night to Zivost was blemished only by celestial lights. I faced Gemond again, flattening my Drae form to cut through the air, and Tyrrik’s sympathy hit me.
I stared at the haze as the smell of smoke got stronger and stronger. We were still quite a way from Gemond . . .
What was on fire? Something huge to cause this much smoke. My heart fell, and a crushing weight forced the air from my lungs. My vision blurred, but the murkiness covering the tops of the mountains didn’t fade. Mistress Moons. Where was it coming from? I pumped my wings harder, sucking in the pungent air, the stench growing with every mile, and my certainty of the smoke’s origin growing with it.
The smoke hung over the main center of the Gemond kingdom. Tyrrik pushed us higher into the clean air, but the closer we got, the higher we were forced to go to escape the pollution.
The sun rose, and with the light of day, the gray haze hung over the entire Gemond valley. When we finally descended into the kingdom proper, my mind blanked as I surveyed the destruction.
The homes of the Gemondians were gone as were the barns, the market buildings, shops, storehouses . . . every single structure was destroyed. The scorched ground extended as far as I could see. Only three charred walls, the remains of the buildings, jutted out of the blackened earth like broken, crumbling teeth. The closer we got to the mountain where Zakai’s castle resided, the heavier my heart became until I was swallowing back nausea.
There were no pieces of the past, no evidence of the people who’d once resided in this land. There was only the befouled ground, the deathly white ash, and the noxious smoke rising in the air.
It is not your fault.
I couldn’t respond. How could he say that? He’d only left Gemond to protect me because Draedyn . . . Draedyn had exposed our weaknesses and capitalized on them. Tyrrik had responded to my fear. If it wasn’t my fault, then whose fault was it? Certainly not Zakai’s or Zarad’s or the other people of Gemond who willingly sent their quotas and their sons to the emperor. None of them had plotted to rebel, not until we landed in their kingdom a couple weeks ago.
Do you think anyone is still alive?
Hopefully they’re safe in the mountain.
Tyrrik’s words felt flat, and his attempt at reassurance did nothing to soothe my fear or guilt. The entire kingdom couldn’t fit in Zakai’s castle. There was no way most of the people outside would’ve had enough warning to get in there. How many had died? How many would we have left to fight?
Would Zakai still want to fight?
We should have been here. I should have dropped Lani and come straight back. Then I wouldn’t have been around for Draedyn to take over my mind and force me to hand Kamini over. And our absence wouldn’t have left our friends open to harm.
We can’t possibly be everywhere at once. They’ll understand this. Let’s go to the back. Tyrrik led the way to the other side of the mountain.
I expected him to fly deeper into the valley, but as we descended, the smoke clogged my throat, and I struggled to draw breath. Could anyone have survived? Yes, I told myself firmly. I refused to believe Dyter could be gone.
Zakai is smart, Tyrrik said. I’m sure they have contingency plans for attacks. He tucked his wings and angled down and then disappeared into the trees on the northern side of the mountains where he’d acted as a decoy to my departure to the Zivost not so long ago.
Trees!
I fed the spark of hope, focusing on the organic evidence that not all was burned to ash, and followed my mate. I flew between the scraggly pines, eyes scanning for any movement, uncertain if I should be relieved or devastated when there was none. No Gemondians, but also no Druman. Was that a good thing? I clung to hope until I reached the base of the mountain behind my mate. Relief flooded me when I saw Tyrrik already shifting to his human form, standing on a short ledge . . . next to Dyter.
I roared in joy and sped toward my friend. I’d never shifted mid-flight, but I’d seen Tyrrik do it several times. I belatedly realized Tyrrik made a lot of things look easy that weren’t. Tearing through the air like a Phaetyn projectile, I crashed into Dyter.
Tyrrik’s Drae reflexes stopped us from hurtling into the rocks. Instead, Tyrrik absorbed the impact of us, and of course, he was the first one on his feet. He offered Dyter a hand, letting me get up on my own. Perhaps put off by my scowl in response to his twitching lips.
“You’re okay,” I said, the tightness in my chest lessening as I buried myself in Dyter’s one-armed embrace.
“My girl,” Dyter said, choking o
n the words. He clung to me, patting my head, my back, and my hair.
I wasn’t sure if it was his body or mine that shook, but after the second drip of moisture hit my head, I realized Dyter was crying. A lump clogged my throat and I wiped away my own tears, pulling away just enough so I could see him.
“You’re a gruesome sight,” I said, my voice thick.
His skin was filthy with soot, the tracks from his tears leaving streaks down his grizzly face. His dark-blue aketon was torn and singed on the bottom hem. His stump was red and raw, but he grinned as if welcoming me to work at The Crane’s Nest back in Verald.
“I’m glad to see you’re al’right.” He glanced at Tyrrik and added, “Both of you.”
My eyes welled again, and I pulled tight for another hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
I couldn’t lose him. Not ever.
King Zakai appeared in the shadowed entrance of a doorway I hadn’t noticed until that moment. A closer look showed me how the heavy stone door seemed to meld with the mountainside.
Zakai’s complexion was wane, his thick brows drawn over shadow-rimmed eyes. But when his gaze met mine, his shoulders relaxed and his eyes sparked.
“Most Powerful Drae,” he said, the corners of his lips softening from their frown. “Welcome back to Gemond. We’re immensely relieved to see you.”
I felt Tyrrik’s pride through our bond and was grateful he had the decency to not say told-you-so.
There are some things too sacred to make light of.
Zakai gestured us inside, and as Dyter and I neared the threshold into the mountain, I noticed the numerous archers lining the wall, backs to the mountain, scanning the outside landscape, bows and filled quivers nearby. More gold-plated guards stood at attention, their bodies pressed to the wall as they gazed through tiny murder holes.
Dyter wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned over and asked, “Were they going to shoot us?”
My old friend grunted. “They’re like the young pups in Seven. At least they have a few wise, old men who can count and tell the difference between blue, black, and green.”
Black Crown (The Darkest Drae Book 3) Page 10