He spun away toward the archway to our right. It was the closest doorway to where Dyter and the woman had been. Perhaps the assassin had been paying more attention than I thought, but then he started toward the door, and I rolled my eyes.
Ten minutes later, we were all back at the same place without Dyter. I was officially done. He’s not here, I told Tyrrik. Which means it’s possible to get out. If I have to fly out the window—
“But what are you all doing?” Queen Mily asked, appearing out of freakin’ nowhere. “Are you not enjoying the party?”
She was doing my head in, creative use of emeralds aside. Did anyone really want to see that much of her anatomy? Neimoj’s eyes were huge, so I guess someone was enjoying her peep-show.
Should we ask her about Dyter?
Do you think she would even know if something else was going on?
Maybe. Probably not. But still . . . Will you breathe on her and ask?
Tyrrik leaned over me and blew a breath at the queen.
Her eyes widened, and she smiled dreamily at Tyrrik as she swayed forward.
“Do you know where Dyter is?” he asked, straightening. He pulled me in front of him so I would buffer the queen.
She shook her head. “No, but he’s going to use my boats in the morning. You could meet him at the docks then.” She shimmied, shaking, well everything, and said, “Will you lie with me and let me bear your children?”
Someone coughed, and I elbowed Tyrrik for using so much of his Drae breath on her. I actually didn’t like that he was using it at all.
I turned to the Azuli queen and, channeling my best inner Dyter, said, “Nope. We’re weary after our travels, Queen Mily. Have one of your servants show us to a chamber to rest, please?”
“No, you must—”
I growled, my Drae canine’s lengthening as I narrowed my eyes. Now I was done. Tired, worried, and completely over watching the bizarre and sick sex show. Not to mention her hitting on my mate. Dyter could be pissed at me later. “I must what?”
Her eyes widened, and her smile faded. Her shoulders sagged, and even her breasts seemed to droop a little. She dipped her head with the first serious expression I’d seen on her face yet. She looked at Tyrrik longingly. “I apologize. I wasn’t thinking. Of course, you must be weary after your journey. Tonte!” She waved to a man who approached her and bowed. “Take our guests to our finest chambers. Get them anything they need. I’m holding you personally responsible to ensure they’re comfortable.”
The servant bowed, and I returned the queen’s nod, still aware she’d be sending boats to collect enough men to double our current army. “Thank you, Queen Mily. I hope you have a happy birthday.”
Several members of our group snickered, but Tyrrik was smarter and swept my hand up in his as we followed the servant out of the sex-fest. As we moved farther away from the party chamber, fewer people graced the halls, and fewer giggles reached my ears from the dark nooks.
We turned down an empty corridor, and Tyrrik and I shared a glance.
He looks smarter than his queen.
Yep, I replied. Definitely.
Tyrrik blurred forward to the servant. The man reared back into the wall, but Tyrrik followed him, blowing a long breath into the servant’s face and then held him against the smoky glass. When the man’s eyes glazed over, Tyrrik asked, “A man who was with our party left the hall. Where is he?”
The servant smiled and swayed toward Tyrrik, puckering for a kiss.
The assassin twins shared a grin, but I couldn’t reply in kind, having been on the receiving end of Tyrrik’s breath before. I didn’t relish taking away this servant’s will, but Dyter trumped anyone and anything.
Did that make us like my father? He’d taken my will away only weeks before, and I shuddered, feeling nauseated with the comparison. Where was the line? How far was too far? When did the ends no longer justify the means? My father clearly had reasons to take over my mind. Why did I feel our reasons were okay but his weren’t? Guilt twisted my insides, and I grimaced.
“Dyter,” Tyrrik said firmly to the servant, evading his mouth with an expert dodge that attested to how many times he’d had to do it.
The man nodded, a sloppy grin plastered on his face as he stroked Tyrrik’s cheek. The servant then pivoted on one heel and marched back the way we’d come.
“Someone needs to go in ahead of me,” I whispered to the group.
“Don’t want to see Dyter doing it?” Nielub asked.
“Oddly enough, no,” I replied, shivering. “Would you want to see your mom playing cards?”
Niemoj frowned. “Playing cards?”
“What are you—” Nielub started to ask but cut off when Tyrrik glared at him.
The servant veered to the right, down a hallway less than half the size of where we’d been. The distance between torches more than doubled, and our group was forced into pairs in the narrow space.
“Anyone notice this hall seemed dark and generally foreboding?” Dilowa asked.
Yep, I silently agreed. But I’d learned there were worse things in life—like well-lit rooms full of naked people.
The servant took a left and then opened an opaque glass door flush to the wall that blended perfectly with the glass of the palace.
Niemoj held the door open, and I glanced back at Tyrrik who was just behind me and then pointed at the rickety stairs leading up. There was only enough room for us to go up in single file.
I don’t like it, Tyrrik said. Something feels off.
Obviously. There was nothing about Azule I liked, and everything felt off. But the servant is under your breath mojo.
I’m well aware. But Dyter wouldn’t have entered a place like this.
Not in his right mind. But I also never thought he’d disappear to do the horizontal jig, so I was officially floundering in new territory. I’m genuinely worried about him, Tyrrik, I admitted. Where was Dyter?
I’m going to check first. Please stay here.
I didn’t even have time to formulate a reply. Before I could open my mental mouth, he was gone, far beyond the servant who had only just ascended the first step, still under Tyrrik’s influence.
“Where did Lord Tyrrik go?” Dilowa asked, her gaze darting back the way we’d come.
“To check if it’s a trap,” I said with a sigh.
Feeling Tyrrik’s approach, I crossed my arms over my chest and pursed my lips. I was not happy about his chauvinistic check for danger attitude.
I blinked as he appeared, knowing he could feel my seething frustration, and snapped, “Well —”
He blew a lungful of breath in my face, his panic pulsing through our bond.
“What was that for?” I asked, waving the air away. His breath wouldn’t control me now, so what was he . . . My fingertips began to buzz, and I dropped my gaze to them. What did you just do?
A monstrous weight wrapped around my head, and I fought against the urge to close my eyes. I peered up at my mate with dawning horror. That weight . . . The blackness . . . That was his power.
The emperor is here, he spoke softly in my mind. I’m sorry, my love.
He flooded his power through our bond, and heavy lethargy spread down my shoulders, into my torso and down my legs. My knees trembled as I fought his control. Tyrrik, I slurred. Please don’t!
I have to, my love. Your Phaetyn veil has been down. His regret and sorrow pulsed into me as he pulled me toward unconsciousness. Sleep.
Even knowing it was my fault I’d dropped the veil in the orgy room, even knowing he could only control me if it was a life and death situation, I was angry. He’d said we were stronger together. My own failure was exacerbated by his betrayal. My knees buckled, and Tyrrik pulled me close, my forehead bouncing against his chest. I opened my mouth to scream at him, but darkness swallowed me whole.
The last thing I heard as I drifted out was Tyrrik’s choked voice whispering, Sleep.
25
I woke up livid. My fists were cle
nched almost as tight as my jaw, and I knew I wanted to hit someone. At first, I thought I’d been rudely awoken, but then the memory of my mate compelling me resurfaced, much like a slap to the face.
And my anger turned white-hot, building to don’t-touch-me-or-I’ll-kill-you-rage.
Knowing how much I hated what my father was doing to me, how much I’d trained to prevent the vile manipulation from the emperor, Tyrrik still thought he was somehow justified? The emperor had been up those stairs, and Tyrrik had reacted by taking me out of the equation? I was Ryn, the most . . . the freakin’ most powerful Drae-Phaetyn. What part of plan put-Ryn-to-sleep made the smallest amount of sense? Because my veil had been down? What did that matter if Tyrrik was near?
I opened my eyes and stared into darkness. With fury pulsing through me, partial shifting was just a blink away, and the darkness melted away with my Drae eyes.
Oh, no he didn’t. I looked at the small space, a broom and buckets and rags were shoved in the narrow closet. He’d chucked me in a closet. A cleaning closet. My chest rose and fell rapidly as my emotions climbed, and in a blur I was on my feet. My fingernails extended and tapered into deadly talons. I was going to throw him—
Ryn?
I paused, my hand poised at the door, ready to demolish, but his panicked voice made me pause.
You controlled me! You could’ve just had me—
Put your veil on!
Drak. I pulled the mossy-green Phaetyn power over me, still too angry to feel foolish for it not being the first thing I thought of since waking. Why did you do that? Where are you? I’m coming—
I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I thought you’d stay asleep longer—
Longer? I snarled. He still wanted me unconscious? Don’t you dare do that again. Ever.
The moment of hesitation between my demand and Tyrrik’s answer was enough to make my anger slip. I focused inward, gasping as I saw my vibrant-blue energy almost completely alone. He’d withdrawn most of his onyx tendrils from my powers; only threads of black lined my blue. I focused, harder, and felt a twinge of discomfort I knew wasn’t my own. He was there, but then why had he drawn his powers in?
I can’t put you under again. It would take too much energy from here. And we’re trying to find Dyter.
Guilt stung me, and my talons retracted an inch. Did you find him?
No. Not yet.
There was a moment of silence so profound I wondered if Tyrrik was still there. What are you doing—
Will you . . .
I waited, but he said nothing more. And now, with my fury interrupted, I couldn’t quite get the emotional vehemence back. Especially considering the reason for Tyrrik’s manipulation. Despite what I’d been through and my angry words, I’d let myself be controlled ten times over if Dyter’s safety was in the balance. The emperor was here, or had been, and might still be around. I wasn’t about to step out of the door without some precautions. I listened, letting my Drae senses pick up smells and sounds on the other side of the closet door: the clatter of dishes, the murmur of anxious speech, hurried footsteps. The briny smell of ocean was still heavy in the air. I was still in the Azule palace. With my next breath, I extended my moss-green Phaetyn veil just over the door.
Then I annihilated the wooden barrier.
Standing in the splintered remains of the cleaning supply closet, I panted and retracted my talons, feeling a little less hostile after a bit of exercise.
Will you please stay there until I can come for you?
Uhh, I’ve got my veil on. He can’t see me.
What? Ryn. Panic pulsed through the bond, and I got a glimpse of Tyrrik, Nielub, and Niemoj arguing with Gairome and Zarad. Where are you?
Focusing on Tyrrik’s location through our bond, I took off at a run. I’m coming to you.
No!
I could feel him mentally scrambling, but he blocked me from his thoughts, so all I could feel was his anxiety. I sent him a pulse of my energy as I ran toward him, following the wisps of our connection. I rounded the corner and skidded to a stop when I arrived at the same passage as before. But then I hesitated, focusing hard because my mind was telling me Tyrrik was straight ahead . . . through the solid stone wall.
I glanced at the irregular opaque glass on the door to my right which I knew concealed a stairway. I tapped on the wall, but where I could feel him sounded solid, the glass as thick as a normal stone wall. Had they gone into the stairwell and then dropped down somehow? Or did one of the adjacent passages have an entrance to the room beyond?
I examined the entire stretch of wall, but there was only the one door. I gently opened it and listened hard. Nothing.
My jaw was still clenched as I closed my eyes at the base of the stairs. I imagined my Phaetyn veil as strong as diamond. Not sure if that would help, but while I was imagining, I wrapped my Drae tendrils around my mind, thicker, thicker until the weight of the veil and shield felt mentally heavy. After all that practice, surely the emperor wouldn’t be able to get through. The Drae powers alone, maybe. Phaetyn powers, no way. Together, I was invincible.
Ryn. You need to get out of here.
I can help you. I’ve got my veil going strong. I’m good. I wanted to yell at him. Tyrrik should be here with me, by my side, or me with him. But he’d left me behind like a coward. He had patronized me for months with platitudes about us being stronger together. And even though I’d seen the panic in his eyes and felt it as he breathed into my face, that didn’t excuse his action.
I could guess at the reason behind his choice to take my will, but I needed Tyrrik to know that he couldn’t do that to me if we were going to be together. Because what he’d done? That wasn’t love even if I could understand the fear that had driven him to act in such a way.
Inhaling the scent of dust and wood and man, I opened my eyes, tilted my head up, and began up the stairs, flinching when the wood creaked underfoot. Someone needed to oil these—or whatever people did to stop stairs from creaking.
The closer I moved to the top of the stairs, the more I could feel power, and I assumed that meant my father was still here. But wouldn’t he have felt me while I was asleep? If he knew I was here, why wait to take control? I hadn’t had my veil on while I was sleeping, but he hadn’t attacked. Nearing the top, I stopped again, realizing I hadn’t thought this through, entirely.
Ryn—
Because now I was certain the emperor was still here. I could . . . feel his power on the other side of the door at the top of the stairs, the oiliness of it, just like when he’d coated my mind. The dark power left a sour taste in my mouth.
Tyrrik’s control disappeared, and his energy whipped through me. I heard Nielub tell Zarad to not be a fool through Tyrrik, and then I was hit by my mate’s overwhelming drive to protect me. He growled low.
Tyrrik, I’m fine.
I glanced behind me, straining my ears again, but the only sounds of activity were the clamor at the other end of the castle. Uneasiness tightened my chest, and I didn’t shift from my position four steps from the top.
If my father was up there, wouldn’t there be some kind of noise? I concentrated on my connection with Tyrrik and asked, How do I get to you?
I wasn’t a fool. I had no intention of taking on my father alone. I had my veil up, but I could sense Draedyn’s powers from here. I didn’t want to risk him sensing me somehow—even if it was by smell or sound.
You can’t right now. You would have to come into the throne room.
Is there another way?
I don’t know, Ryn. Please . . . I need you to be safe. His body trembled as he fought the urge to dart out of his hiding place and come to me. Which meant he was hiding very close to danger. And I could guess that meant he was near the emperor.
If the emperor had been able to sense me lurking in the stairwell, I’d already be in his clutches. I’d check another way first, some place my father’s power wasn’t looming. Turning, I lowered my foot to the step but froze as the door opened below. Please be
a breeze . . . in the middle of the palace.
What?
Voices rose from the foyer, followed by the creaking of weight on the stairs. My heart pounded, and with nowhere else to go, I tiptoed up the remaining steps and twisted the door knob with my sweaty hand. My insides churned, my heart pumping out dread with every beat. Easing the door open a crack, I peeked through, relief washing through me when I saw the space was empty. I slipped into the room and closed the door behind me.
Hidey, hidey, hidey.
The space was an alcove, sparsely furnished with an old rickety table and chair and several rows of bookshelves. The opposite wall was not really a wall. The waist-high structure was made up of ornamental balusters of twisted glass with a thick and wide handrail. Across the distance were similar rooms with half-walls and balusters. The makeshift desk was empty except for the scuffs and nicks from years of use. The balcony opened over a larger space, but before I could look, I heard the men talking on the landing just outside.
My mouth dried as the door opened, and I spun in the middle of the space as two Azulis walked through the entry. I waited for one of them to gasp or shout when they noticed me, and I morphed my talons in anticipation. I was so consumed in the moment I couldn’t even hear Tyrrik. I could do this. I could do this.
But their conversation didn’t even falter.
Relief, both mine and Tyrrik’s, flooded me. I nearly snorted aloud but settled for a shake of my head. Phaetyn veil—I wasn’t sure if the thought was mine or Tyrrik’s, but neither of us cared.
I side-stepped to let them pass by and then trailed in their wake as they crossed the space to the shelves and then disappeared. I sank into a crouch.
I was close enough to the edge to see that the room was a veiling balcony, and a thin path ran either way, giving access to the bookshelves lining the walls around the room’s perimeter. The space below had a glass ceiling. I peeked around the corner of the bookshelves and saw the two Azulis men walking down a small, spiraling stairwell, and I grinned.
I think I found my way to you.
Black Crown (The Darkest Drae Book 3) Page 20