by Raye Wagner
I take that as a no.
With a sigh, I made after him in a hobble, but my muscles seized, and I stopped to stretch my calves. Muttering to myself, I said, “I suddenly see how you find wiggle room around your oath to the king.”
He was on me with the same speed he’d displayed with throwing the pebble. The Drae snapped his shifted fangs in my face, hissing, “You think the guards are here to protect you? Would you like to wait and see next time? Don’t be naive, Phaetyn.” Lord Irrik pulled back, and his fangs disappeared. The scales receded, and he spun away, resuming his walk—if predatory stalk could be called that.
My feet remembered how to move before my body remembered how to breathe. I released a shaking exhale, knowing the Drae could hear my fear. He could probably hear my heartbeat anyway, thundering in my ears as it was.
20
I trudged after the Drae, muscles cramping, but as the sun set and dark descended, fatigue melted into a blissful lethargy that made me feel the closest thing to peace since Tyr left last night. The freedom of being outside at night pulled at me with a need just as strong. No, that wasn’t accurate. This need, it was stronger. Undeniable. The dark of the dungeon was no comparison to the tendrils of the twin moons reaching into my chest and soothing the cracks in my heart.
“Do we have to go back?” I asked. “Can . . . can we stay outside . . . Please?”
Lord Irrik stopped his stealthy glide and turned. “You can’t escape. Just because it’s dark, you won’t be able to sneak away.”
I rolled my eyes. Everyone knew the Drae was stronger in the dark. I’m sure there was a bit about being able to see super well at night in Mum’s story.
“I wasn’t thinking about it,” I told him, which was true. “I just like the night.”
His eyes blinked from human to Drae and back again. “If you make the potatoes grow,” he said in his guttural voice I now associated with his partial shifting, “the king will allow it.”
I bent over and pulled off my shoes, delaying the trip back as long as I could. Classic trick.
“I’m not falling for that. Put them back on.”
Muttering darkly, I dragged my grubby feet up the castle path toward the gate, hating the thought of going back inside and down to my cell of torture. I stared at the stars one last time. Our moons hung heavy and pregnant with their glorious silver light. I drank it in, breathing the night air like a starving woman. I closed my eyes and relished the moment—the warm air’s caress, the soil on my feet, and the peace in my heart—knowing it wouldn’t last.
Lord Irrik’s gloved hand circled my arm in the dreaded grip, and I instinctively flinched as the terror he exuded washed over me.
“If we’re not back before curfew, Irdelron will punish us both,” he said. “Don’t ruin your faux freedom on the first day.”
While I was certain he was only telling me to hurry because he wanted to avoid punishment, I recognized the comment was more kind than cruel. For once. Maybe Ty was right and there was more to this nightmare jerk than met the eye. With a sigh of resignation, I allowed the Drae to lead me back to the castle.
As we crossed the stone floor, Jotun stepped from the darkened stairwell that would lead to my dungeon cell, as if he’d been waiting for me. His eyes gleamed, and my fatigue became fear at what I knew was coming.
Irrik brushed by the mute torturer, but instead of taking me into the bowels of the castle, he angled us up.
The king had not lied about exalting me.
Irrik didn’t return me to my dungeon cell, bringing me instead to a tower room at the top of a thousand steps. Well, maybe fifty, but it felt like a thousand as we climbed higher and higher. My legs were like jelly after my field laps.
“You’re not serious,” Irrik growled as I stopped for a rest on step thirty. He muttered under his breath, and I caught the words “weak” and “Phaetyn.”
Exhausted and a smidgen ashamed of that fact, I stooped over, panting when we reached the top. Irrik shoved the door open and pushed my weakling butt through into a ginormous but sparsely furnished room.
The ceilings were thirty feet high and the room at least that wide. A large bed sat in the far left corner with a sitting area in the opposite far corner. The corner couch was a guesstimated one million times more comfortable than the lumpy mattress I’d slept on until now. There was a rectangular table in front of the velvety sofa, and the only other furniture was a solid dark-wood wardrobe and an empty bookcase tucked against a wall. The only wall without any furniture was one made of intricate, interlocking panels that looked like they could open. The rest of the room was large empty space. Because I clearly measured in dungeon cells now, I’d have to say there were at least six cells worth of free space. Double doors near the wardrobe probably concealed a washroom, and the glory of that privacy seemed like the greatest luxury here—but after sweating all my moisture away, I only had eyes for the bed.
Irrik pointed toward the washroom, and I shook my head.
“Bed,” I grunted, stepping toward the object of my infatuation.
“Bath first,” he responded, and he crowded me, forcing me to take a step closer to the washroom.
I growled at him and pushed him away. “I just want to sleep.”
“I didn’t bring you here to sleep. This is my room. Wash, and I’ll take you to yours.”
“Your room?” I said in horror, peering around with new eyes. “Why would you do that?”
Irrik’s eyes flashed black.
“Jotun was lurking outside your quarters.” Scales erupted down his forearms, and he thrust me back in one powerful movement. The air whooshed from my lungs as my bare feet slid over the smooth stone floor before I lost my balance and rolled the rest of the way, almost to the washroom doors.
I dragged myself into a crouch and looked back.
Irrik was gone.
I blinked, my mind trying to assemble what I was seeing in his place.
Lord Irrik had shifted.
His dragon head was at least four hands wide, his horned crest extending higher than I stood. His scaly hide was as dark as the sky on a moonless night, and he took up the majority of the huge room. He exhaled warm air through his nostrils, so hot it shimmered and steamed, billowing around me. His dark eyes were level with mine, and my heart pounded with acknowledgement they were Irrik’s eyes.
I should’ve been terrified, but the air, much like his persuasion-breath, only warmed me, making me relaxed and a little sleepy. He pushed me toward the doors with his snout, and I batted him with my open hand.
You need a bath, he spoke in my mind.
Talking animals were too much for me right now. “I’m tired,” I slurred. “Why can’t I just sleep?”
He snorted and turned his head away. I knew what the Drae was saying without him voicing the words. I stank. I’d sweated in the dirt all day. Of course I stank. My stink just didn’t bother me. In fact, I felt reasonably clean compared to the dungeons, like I was an aired-out rug. Clearly, there was no reasoning with an eighteen-foot Drae. “Fine, but then I’m going to sleep.”
He snorted again.
I pushed through the doors then slammed them shut and looked straight at the large copper tub full of water. Holy pancakes. I shed my clothing, tripping and stumbling in my haste to reach the liquid bliss. I slipped into the tub with a sigh. The water was lukewarm, but there was no way I was complaining. The water circled and swirled with the intrusion of my body, and I dunked my head under the surface, holding my breath. I let the water pull away my tension along with the dirt and grime. Perhaps there was a little reluctant gratitude to the Drae for making me bathe.
I came back up, gulping at the air, and my eyes inadvertently went to the door. The open door!
Where Lord Irrik stood in his black aketon and breeches.
“Stop looking, creeper.” I’d meant to yell, but the words came out in a whisper. “What are you doing in here? Go away.”
“You don’t want hot water then?” he aske
d, his lip curling. “I can’t very well have you drown yourself, Phaetyn. When you’re done bathing, you need to eat.”
Nuh-uh. “You said I could sleep.”
The Drae raised his brows and replied, “No, you said you wanted to sleep. But you’re far too scrawny, and I’ll not have you collapse out in the fields because you wanted a few extra minutes of sleep and didn’t eat anything.”
I glared, wishing I knew a way to hurt him.
“Cover up,” he said, drawing closer.
“How am I meant to do that?” I screeched. “I’m naked.”
His face paled, and his eyes flashed black once more. Recovering, he averted his eyes with a look of annoyance and approached the bath. I froze as he dipped one of his fingers into the water by my hip. The water nearest to the tip of his forefinger rippled, and the temperature rose to steaming within ten seconds.
I groaned, resting back. “I finally see a point for Drae.”
He choked, and I cracked open an eye to check if the sound was somehow laughter. It wasn’t. The scales were reappearing rapidly, and he was already back at the doors.
“Thank you. But next time, please do it before I get in,” I mumbled.
“Next time don’t rush in here and strip off your clothes while I’m shifting back.”
“Next time, don’t throw me in that general direction and then turn into a Drae.” I listened and celebrated with a smile when he didn’t reply.
“If you want sleep,” he said, leaning in the doorway, though he rotated so his back was to me, “hurry up. You’re exhausted, and I’m not leaving. If you die, the next decade will be hell for me.”
I grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed, all the pleasure of a steaming hot bath now gone. He didn’t need to be here, what with his stupid Drae powers. But the living nightmare in front of me probably got off on intimidating me. “I hate you.”
Irrik glared over his shoulder. “You’ve made that abundantly clear. If you don’t pick up the pace, I could send for Tyr. Perhaps having him here will help you speed up the process?”
My heart stopped as did my scrubbing. How much did the Drae know? I knew he’d sent Tyr to clean up my Phaetyn blood, but Irrik’s tone implied he knew more. Did he know things between Tyr and me were changing? Were things changing? Had Tyr said something to him about our meeting the other day? I wouldn’t have thought so.
But clearly, Lord Irrik knew enough to threaten me . . . I swallowed and shook my head. The last thing I wanted was to bring the Drae’s wrath on someone who had only ever showed me kindness. Whatever Tyr might feel for me, I definitely cared for him. “That won’t be necessary. I apologize, my lord. I’ll hurry.”
Irrik growled another curse in his Drae language and threw a towel on the floor by the tub. “Your continued attention will eventually cause him harm, Phaetyn.” He threw a new set of clothes by the towel. “The king will seek to control you through him. Tyr and everyone else you think you care about.”
His words strangled me, more so because I could see the truth in them. I was the most important thing to the king. Anyone I tried to contact, anyone I was close to was a way to manipulate me. They would be the ones to pay for anything I did wrong or failed to do right.
“Why bother with the warning? You’ve made it clear how you feel about me, so why expend the energy and do something nice? You give me a warm bath, make sure I don’t fall asleep in it, and then threaten me. Why?”
“I’m fairly certain I didn’t threaten you.”
“Right. You just said you’d hurt someone that matters to me if I didn’t hurry up with my bath. That’s not a threat,” I said sarcastically.
“You think he matters to you, but do you even know him?”
“I know he takes care of me,” I snapped. Tyr was kind, gentle, and risked his life to care for me. Unlike Irrik. But the doubt he’d planted nagged at me. I lathered my hands and scrubbed at my scalp and skin. Something inside me burst, and I continued vehemently, “You showed up in my room, acted like you wanted to help, but for what? Maybe that was just for Mum, not her stupid Phaetyn daughter, who couldn’t really be her daughter if Mum was killed by a blade dipped in Phaetyn blood. Which means my whole life has been a lie, and no one knows the real me, not even me. Then I get beat all the time. Now, something good happens to me and you’re going to destroy that, too. Of course you are. Drae means death.” I’d been half joking when I’d said the words before, but this time they dripped with honesty. “I hate you.”
The tub was filled with suds from my vigorous scrubbing, and I’d done all I could to be clean. I wanted to be out, to be done. To have this terrible interlude with the Drae be over and finally get some sleep. Finished with my tirade, I huffed my frustration as I reached for my towel.
In a blur of movement, he was at the tub, standing over me. I shrank down, under the suds, cowering from the anger he radiated.
“You think you understand the game that’s being played?” he asked in a low voice. “You know nothing of betrayal, pain, or real suffering. You can’t fathom what’s going on. You say you hate me, but you don’t know me. Every single thing I do has a reason. Everything. You? You’re a cyclone recklessly acting on emotion and impulse. You’re only alive now because of the generosity of others and your Phaetyn powers, but if you continue down this path, you and everyone you care about will be—” He froze and pursed his lips. Then, raising his voice, he said, “You’re the worst kind of fool. Tako mi je žao.”
“I get it, al’right,” I screamed. More and more, every minute, every second, my hate grew. I hated that he was right, and I hated myself for my stupid, selfish actions. I wanted to cry for the hurt I’d caused Mum, Ty, and most likely Tyr, Arnik, and Dyter. I’d been a fool, but I was done. I steeled my heart and swallowed my emotions. They would do me no good here. “Please leave so I can get dressed.”
I would do everything the king told me, everything. I would make him think I was the most compliant prisoner ever. I wouldn’t ask for anything more than what they gave, and I wouldn’t put anyone I loved at risk. I would be patient until the moment was perfect. Then, I’d make sure they all paid.
When I stepped out of the washroom in my fresh clothes, Irrik was barking orders at two guards in the room.
“I said to put it on the table there,” he snapped, pointing at the short table by the couch. “Then you can leave.” The other guard stood, waiting. Irrik held a scroll of paper in his hands, reading. The first man set a large silver tray down and went to the door where he waited for the other guard.
Irrik snorted, a sound I now recognized as his favorite expression of disgust, and crumpled the paper into a ball. “You may tell King Irdelron I have received his message. I’ll only dispose of those I perceive as immediate threats to her life. You’re dismissed.”
The guards eyed the Drae warily, but as they turned to the door, I caught one sneering at me. Gritting my teeth, I tilted my chin up and walked toward the couch where dinner waited. My legs were weak from not eating, and my heart pounded from the exertion of the day. I was determined to eat everything on that tray. Even if I threw it all up later. But my mind wasn’t as strong as my body, and four bites into the rich meal, my head swam and my vision blurred.
“I think they poisoned me,” I slurred, sliding sideways on the couch. “In the food. I’m dying.”
I closed my eyes as my stomach roiled.
I laid my head on the soft cushions and decided this was the perfect place to die. Irrik couldn’t be mad at me because I’d been poisoned.
Darkness swallowed me in its arms, and as it claimed me, I heard Irrik say, “You can’t be poisoned, Khosana.”
21
The sunlight woke me, and I stretched with a luxurious slowness as I took inventory. I was whole, my soreness gone thanks to my Phaetyn blood, and I was ravenously hungry. I sat up and looked down at the table for the silver tray with food. But it was on the other side of the room, by the couch.
The couch where I’d fallen a
sleep . . . and was no longer lying.
I gasped, sure I must still be in a nightmare because there was no way I’d willingly be in Lord Irrik’s bed. But I was. Fully dressed, thank the stars, but in his bed nonetheless.
The Drae was gone, and the panels were wide open, exposing a large expanse of sky from a short balcony. I strained my ears to listen, but couldn’t hear him in the washroom. My curiosity swelled, and I jumped from the bed and crossed to the terrace.
I could see all of Verald, the main roads snaking through the pale dust of the Harvest Zones. There were small patches of green here and there, dozens of them throughout the kingdom. As I stared, I thought of my mother and her green thumb, and I wondered if those were the places she visited to help. Had I moved dirt at each of these places? Had I sprinkled Mum’s special water mix over them? A mix I was fairly certain contained my bodily fluids?
A dark bird pulled into the air from one of the zones, but as the bird neared, it grew, and I realized Lord Irrik was on his way back to his tower. The Drae screamed and beat his wings, and I stood staring in awe. As much as I hated him, I had to grudgingly admit he was beautiful.
He flew closer until he was just beyond the ledge of the parapet, hovering. His breath flowed over me, and I reached out to touch him, caught in some kind of thrall. My fingertips grazed his armored cheek before he pulled away.
The massive Drae dove to my right into the room. The air shifted and the scent of leather, steel, and smoke blew by me. His powerful wings wrapped around his body. The air around his Drae form shimmered. He tucked, rolled, and stood in a fluid motion that spoke volumes of how many times he’d done it.
“You need to eat, Phaetyn.” He turned and indicated I follow him with a wave of his hand.
He stood to one side, and as I passed, I risked a glance to assess his mood. His eyes were hooded and dark, his face an impassive mask. A smirk pulled on one side of his lips. “Did you know you sleepwalk? You’re lucky it’s comfortable to sleep on the ground in my dragon form.”