Right. Good thing that.
Zakai led us farther into the mountain, but we were angling upward instead of returning to the areas I was familiar with. I didn’t want to ask, but for some morbid reason, I had to know . . . “Did Gemond lose many?”
Zakai stopped. In two weeks, he’d healed a lot; his once sunken features weren’t plump, but he no longer danced on the verge of death. His wiry gray hair was shorn close to his scalp and his beard trimmed tight to his square jaw. His clothing no longer hung on an emaciated frame although he was still thin. But right now, his haunted and ravaged features reminded me of when we’d first arrived. He pressed his lips together as if contemplating his words.
He stepped toward me, and Dyter’s grip tightened around my shoulders.
The king said, “Each person we lost was one too many. But you are no more to blame for the evil of your father than Zarad is for my stupidity.” He offered a small smile. “After Tyrrik left and we knew we were vulnerable, we offered shelter to as many as we could. Criers warned those in the outskirts to flee into the hills. I hope many heeded the warning and the damage was limited.”
My eyes burned, knowing what he did not. I’d seen the damage as we flew in and knew his hopes would not be met.
“Hesitation will not win battles or wars,” Tyrrik stated. “But Ryn and I deliver you hope. The Phaetyn are marching to join your force on the border of Azule and Gemond. How many men are under the mountain?”
Zakai straightened and tilted his head toward the long hallway leading farther into the fortress. “Let us confer with Zarad and Gairome. My son and his first have been strategizing with me. We will want to discuss our next step with them.”
We traveled farther into the caves, and I stared at the evidence of hurried departures scattered throughout: a dropped doll, a harried and dirty mother scolding her child in a shrill voice, a disgruntled man complaining about not enough to drink.
We passed one couple deep in conversation, and as I walked by, I heard her say, “I’m just so tired of pumpkin everything. Why couldn’t she grow strawberries or cherries or something sweet?”
I’d make time to visit the gardens as soon as we were done talking about the army.
Make sure you replenish the soil, too, so their crops will continue to thrive after we’re gone. Whatever you grow won’t keep forever.
My pumpkin is holding up pretty well.
Tyrrik snorted. I never liked pumpkin.
I gasped and turned, Dyter’s arm falling from my shoulders as I faced my mate, mouth opened and ready to deliver a scathing reply.
I froze when I saw Tyrrik’s wide grin.
His black aketon was dusty with ash, his face sported a couple days of growth, and his dark eyes were smoldering heat—for me.
My irritation evaporated, and an answering heat rushed in to take its place in my chest. His well-timed quip effectively distracted me from my wallowing. I tried to suppress the smile and likely looked like I was having a seizure. You better love my pumpkins and potatoes and cherries and anything else I decide to grow.
I promise I will love anything you grow, mate.
Desire sparked low in my belly with the low rumbling embers of his voice as he claimed me as his.
Dyter tugged my sleeve and said, “Come on, Rynnie. Zakai is waiting.” He slung his arm back over my shoulder and whispered, “You two better spend some time alone before we leave —”
Mistress Moons, Dyter was not telling me to have sex.
“—talk a little or play cards together so you’re not distracted as we march. Focus is important in battle, both yours and his.”
My relief about Dyter’s meaning was so heartfelt that Tyrrik, feeling it also, let out a strangled laugh behind me. I blushed. I’d been caught staring like a love-sick pup, but my head was totally in the gutter.
Tyrrik and I had been dancing around our intimacy for too long. I was going to play cards with him.
“We’ve amassed what supplies we could since your arrival. But I’m afraid almost no one harvested their Phaetyn blood crops before we raced into the stronghold.” Gairome was taller than Zakai and built like an ox.
I stared at his muscular build, wondering how he’d grown so big on a meager diet, and noticed he was missing his hand and the lower portion of his arm, almost all the way up to his elbow—like Dyter.
Fifteen people, a mixture of female and male Gemondians as well as Dyter, Tyrrik, and me, stood around a table. It wasn’t just any table but shaped to mimic Draeconia. A map was carved into the surface, showing the three kingdoms, the southern desert, and the empire. Mountains, forests, and rivers were detailed on the Drae-shaped table. The intricate table was a treasure. I loved it. I wanted it.
You shall have one, Tyrrik promised me.
Do you think I’m spoiled? I asked him.
He didn’t reply.
“If we don’t have enough food—” Gairome started.
“Food won’t be a problem,” I said, cutting him off. “If you have seeds, we’ll be fine.” I faced Zakai. “The Phaetyn have started their march; they’ll be at Azule in less than two weeks. According to Dyter, it’ll take you ten days to get to Azule, and that’s if nothing goes wrong.”
“Something always goes wrong,” Dyter muttered.
I tipped my head at the old coot but kept my gaze on Zakai. “Like he said, you’d better plan on something going wrong, which means you need to be out of here tomorrow, day after at the latest.”
“Someone needs to alert King Caltevyn,” Dyter added.
“Already done,” Tyrrik said, his low voice causing several of the men to cast sideways glances at the Drae. “Lani sent her elderly and children with a guard of fifty to Verald. They’re carrying a message to your king.”
Zakai looked at his son and the other Gemondian leaders. “Then circulate the notice: we leave at daybreak.”
Several of the men and women filed out, and I glanced at Tyrrik. The Drae was listening to Dyter and Zakai—or at least looking at them intently.
Are you coming? I asked.
Go do your . . . mojo in the garden; you’ll feel better after it’s done, and I should fill Zakai and Dyter in on everything that happened in Phaetynville.
I snorted. You know, it has a name. A real name.
Yes, love. Go grow the people some food. You need to leave everyone who will remain enough to survive until we return.
Even after pouring my green Phaetyn powers into the veggie patches of the royal gardens for several hours, I wasn’t satisfied with the result. The elderly and children were going to have a hard time if the war was ongoing. Who knew how long we’d be away.
I sighed heavily. I needed to go outside and reverse as much of the damage there as possible. That was the root of my discontent.
I stopped at the gardens, gathering two bags of huge pumpkin seeds as well as other fruits, vegetables, and even a few dozen nuts. It wasn’t enough to fill the land, but it would get them started.
My heart fell as I strode through the kingdom doors and saw the damage. I’d expected the gray haze to still be masking the ruin, but the rain had poured through the smoke from the sky while I was inside, catching the haze in its droplets and forcing it to the ground.
Everything was black and charred. No life remained here.
This is something I can fix.
I shifted and carefully took both bags in my front talons. Launching this way was harder than usual, but minutes later, I soared over the blackened earth, scattering the seeds into the ash.
I purposely left my Phaetyn veil off, knowing Draedyn would feel I was back. I wanted him to know there were Drae here who would fight against him for the people of Gemond. When I returned to the entrance, I sat outside the doors and did as I had in Verald before leaving, pumping my Phaetyn energy into the ground, willing the land to heal and the seeds to grow.
I thought of big pumpkins, large enough for Tyrrik to stand in, and potatoes the size of goats. I willed the fruit trees
to blossom, hoping we weren’t too late in the year for the bees to pollinate them, but what did I know? I spent a lot of time on the nut trees. And then the grapes, pinot gris, like the ones Arnik spent hours working with—because we’d need wine to celebrate when we won the war.
I felt the sun warm my skin. The rain had stopped, but I didn’t bother moving. The rays filtered through the canopy above, and I breathed in the verdant smell of a late summer afternoon after heavy rain.
“Are you done?” Tyrrik asked.
I’d felt his presence draw closer, and I smiled, my eyes still closed. I patted the ground next to me as I sat up, and unable to resist looking at my mate, I opened my eyes.
“Holy Pancakes!” I gasped.
Tyrrik stood before me, his hand extended, admiration in his dark eyes. Behind him was an oasis of flourishing growth, stretching out into the valley almost as far as I could see. I took his hand, but my gaze was riveted on the flora. “I think that’s your pumpkin,” I whispered in awe as I pointed at a squash the size of my old house in Verald. “Right there.”
Tyrrik glanced over his shoulder. “I said I like your potatoes better.”
I nodded, my gaze sweeping over the growth, and pointed at the leaves of a potato plant. “You can dig a couple up over here then.”
I grinned with deep satisfaction. I was no longer the soap queen. I was Ryn, Potato Queen, destined to feed thousands. I was moving up in the world.
I lay back down as Tyrrik dug up two potatoes. He dusted off his hands after fifteen minutes. Yep, they were totally bigger than goats.
The sun disappeared over the mountaintops, and I sighed, feeling guilty for having fun and for feeling joy while Kamini and Kamoi were in danger because of me and while a battle loomed on the horizon.
“There’s always a reason to enjoy what life gives you,” Tyrrik said.
He lowered the two boulder-sized potatoes speared on his talons and then retracted his natural weapons before pulling me into his arms.
“Let’s have dinner,” he said, nuzzling my neck. “With candles.”
“Will you light the candles with your Drae fire?” I asked.
His tongue traced my feathering pulse, the warmth and moisture shooting trembling pleasure low in my stomach. He kissed my ear, tracing the outer part first before sucking my lobe into his mouth, his teeth grazing the soft skin.
“And then,” he whispered, guiding me backward until I was sandwiched between him and the mountain, “I want to be the reason for your joy.”
He pressed his body into mine, making me gasp as his hips molded against mine. A heavy ache for him had me instinctively pushing back.
“I want to be all you think about,” he said, trailing kisses down my neck. He pulled the neck of my aketon open and brushed his stubble along my collarbone, trailing his nose up my neck on the other side, inhaling deeply.
I moaned and leaned closer, my hands gripping his waist as I circled my hips against him.
“I want to be one with you, both body and mind. I want you to know how much I love you.”
My mind, hazy once again, thought only of him as the rest of the world fell away.
“Tyrrik,” I begged. Mate.
A loud grating sound made me freeze, and a moment later I heard a man calling, “Lord Tyrrik? Lady Ryn?”
14
Tyrrik growled in response to the interruption, but this time I’d had enough. I grabbed Tyrrik’s hand and yanked him toward the door. As we brushed by the guard, I snapped, “There’s plenty of food out there. Lord Tyrrik even dug up some potatoes for supper.”
I stopped and took two steps back to the wide-eyed man. “Tell whoever you have to that Lord Tyrrik and I are done dealing with everyone and anything else for the night. Al’right? As in: Do. Not. Disturb”—I poked my finger into the man’s chest—“the Drae. Unless someone is dying.” I pulled up short, grabbed a fistful of his aketon, and narrowed my partially shifted eyes at him. “Is someone dying or dead?”
The guard shook his head.
“Excellent.” I patted his chest lightly where I’d poked a moment before. “Good fellow, we’re on the up and up. Right.” I raised my hand to my eye level and pointed at him. “Do not disturb. Understood?”
He nodded.
What a brilliant communicator. Someone should give him a medal. “As you were, soldier.”
I rotated to my mate with a grin, reaching for his hand. “We have some unfinished business.”
Tyrrik raised his eyebrows but said nothing, accepting my hand. When I stepped forward, he stayed rooted to the floor, making me stumble back.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
I shrugged. I didn’t care where we went. There was a giant pumpkin right behind us that was good to go—
The guard cleared his throat.
“Excuse me,” he said, taking a tentative step forward. He held out a golden key with a smooth oval of polished lapis lazuli. “King Zakai sent me to show you to your chamber. Down this hall, take the first right, and it’s the first door on the left.”
I flashed the guard a smile as I plucked the key from his fingers, my expression turning cheeky when I met Tyrrik’s gaze. “I’ve always liked King Zakai.”
“So you’ve said,” he replied. He lifted his gaze to the man and said, “Thank you. Please convey our gratitude to your sovereign.”
Oops. “Yes, thanks.” Guilt made me turn back and add, “Sorry about . . . earlier. You took me by surprise, and I might’ve overreacted a little. Or a lot. Oh, and there are potatoes out there; you might want to pick them up or have someone help you. They’d be good for dinner.”
Tyrrik slid his arm around my waist, and I stopped talking. The guard picked up the Drae’s cue and hurried away.
I groaned when Tyrrik opened the door to our room. There was a sitting area with a full table of food, including a tureen of pumpkin soup, and beyond that sat a bed the size of Tyrrik’s one back in Verald. A gilded entranceway graced the opposite wall of the chamber, leading to what I assumed was a bathroom.
I couldn’t help stroking the walls, the lapis walls. Lovely. That Zakai was fabulous.
My mouth dried as realization hit me. This was it. I was in this room with Tyrrik, and while there was no doubt I wanted to be here . . . I was. And I was about to claim my mate, and he would claim me.
“Nervous?” Tyrrik asked, wrapping his arms around my midsection.
A bajillion butterflies unfurled their wings in my belly, competing for the limited space. “No.” Yes.
I smiled shyly, resting my hands on his arms as I leaned against him and told the truth. Yes.
Come with me. He slid his hand into mine and led me through the room.
I eyed the food as we passed, noticing a whole chicken and a plate of fluffy white rolls. Seriously, Zakai needed a raise. We walked to the bed, the thick posts of the canopied frame carved into intricate designs and inlaid with gold. The silken blankets were a pale shade of the same lapis lazuli color as the stone walls.
Tyrrik led me past the beautiful clean bed and toward the open double doors of the bathroom.
My heart thudded, and my hands were clammy in a fraction of a second. It wasn’t that I didn’t want this—I really did. But the weirdness of knowing that was where we were headed right now, plus his experience . . . My tummy flipped as I recalled that gem. Experience. “Uhh . . .”
“Do you want to play a game?” he asked, stopping inside the doorway, his inky gaze dipping to my lips.
I swallowed, still caught up on the experience part. “Is this a game you’ve played before?”
A slow smile started at his lips and radiated into his gaze. “I promise I’ve never played this game with anyone else.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then how do you know about it?”
He chuckled, a low throaty sound, and closed the distance between us. “Because I remember how my father revered my mother.”
I grimaced. Uhh. “I’m not sure I want to play a game you
r father taught you. Like, just at this moment.”
Experienced, but clearly lacking in the pillow talk vicinity.
Tyrrik dipped so he was looking me in the eye. “Oh, the game’s all mine. If you don’t like anything, you tell me, and we’ll stop. I promise.” He brushed his thumb over my lips, and his voice was husky when he added, “Please?”
What do we do? I couldn’t believe I was agreeing because kissing seemed to be a way better idea. One I wasn’t going to deny myself. I stepped closer to Tyrrik and brushed my fingertips over his lips before I rose to my tiptoes.
Tyrrik indulged me with a tender kiss before pulling away. “All you have to do is tell me if you like this?”
“Like what?”
He trailed his fingers down my neck to the fold of my purple aketon, pulling the thick fabric open enough so he could trace first above and then below my collarbone. “Do you like this?”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Yea—”
His fingers dipped lower, tracing the swell of my breast, and air hitched in my throat. Holy-Drae-babies.
“Do you like this?” he asked, stopping to look me in the eye.
His touch was fire, and I nodded, swaying closer.
“What about this?” he asked, guiding me back with his body until I was sandwiched between him and the wall.
His hand went to the tie at my waist, and he pulled the knot loose.
I wore a chemise to bed most nights, so it was stupid to feel shy about him exposing my underclothes, but the concentration with which he did it sent a deep flush into my cheeks.
He undid the tie on the other end and pushed the outer garment off my shoulders.
“You’re getting rid of our clothes?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, but two could play at this game.
I pulled the tie at his waist on one side and then the other. Pushing my hands up the smooth planes of his chest, I asked, quirking a brow, “Do you like?”
“Yes,” he growled, and the warm embers of his voice called to me.
He pushed his body into mine, dipping his head to my neck where he pressed his lips to my pulse. And then to our mate mark. I stilled as Tyrrik groaned deep in the back of his throat and applied more pressure to the mark than ever before.
Black Crown (The Darkest Drae Book 3) Page 11