“What if the army could converge into a smaller space if we’re attacked from above?” Tyrrik asked. I watched him, noticing he took one stride for every two of mine.
Zakai glanced over his shoulder at his son and Gairome who were listening. “What do you think?”
Zarad pursed his lips. “It could be done, of course. In an orderly fashion. My only worry is if our army sees the emperor, they’ll panic and hurt each other.” He paused. “I shall run drills on this when we stop for the night.” He glanced up at Tyrrik and asked, “My Lord Drae, would you be willing to help?”
Tyrrik consented, and Zakai smiled at his son. I felt a pang as I thought of my mother’s smiles.
“I’ll get practicing on that veil then.” I can do this, I decided. Maybe only a quarter of the army to start. But I could do this for Gemond. If I didn’t try, I’d be the one to blame for any life I could’ve saved.
I glanced back at the army behind us and blinked as I encountered the burning gaze of the young man who’d hurled accusations at me yesterday before I grew the potatoes. His anger made me frown and face forward, marching in time with the Gemondians. What had happened to their kingdom was horrible, and yes, I felt some responsibility. That I should shoulder more of the burden for what happened to them hadn’t occurred to me until the soldier behind me shocked me with his vitriolic opinion.
No matter what I thought about myself, those around me saw me as a Phaetyn-Drae, someone with enough power to change the outcome of this war and this world. They didn’t see me but rather a person capable of things they could never do.
As much as I had shied away from taking responsibility for the kingdom’s future since learning of my powers, I now saw I shouldn’t be shirking away from taking any burden either. I was a Drae and a Phaetyn; hadn’t Mum talked about power and responsibility?
Protecting the Gemondian army was one of those responsibilities I needed to pick up. I’d do for them what Lani was doing for her people. And when Verald and Azule joined us, I’d work harder again to protect them all. I had great power, and I guess that came with great—and mostly unwanted—responsibility. But now, I was done running. I had to step up.
I’m going to be working on my veil until we stop, I informed Tyrrik.
Ignoring the smiles of the others, he bent down to plant a kiss on my lips. And I will keep to the skies to scout ahead. I’ll alert you to anything significant.
Let me know how far my Phaetyn veil reaches too? He’d be able to see where the army blurred and didn’t. As my mate, Tyrrik could see through my Phaetyn veil. Although I was unsure if last night had obliterated the effectiveness of any barrier against him.
“I guess we’ll find out,” he replied aloud, drawing the confused gazes of those around us.
With an amused look on his weathered face, King Zakai asked Dyter. “Do they do that a lot?”
Dyter released a pent up breath and rolled his eyes. “You have no idea, Your Majesty. And I suspect it’ll only get worse.”
16
Be on your guard, Tyrrik spoke to me from high in the darkening sky. The last streaks of sunlight melting into the rich twilight. There’s a squirrel to the east with an evil look in its eye.
I snorted, waving a hand at Zarad when he looked at me strangely. The squirrel only has one eye?
Before, Tyrrik wasn’t able to talk to me through the veil, but now he could. I’d been right, completing our mating bond changed the effectiveness of the wall against my Drae. Not that I minded.
“It’s like I’m listening to one-twentieth of a conversation,” King Zakai muttered. “How incredibly frustrating.”
I believe he lost it while killing a Drae.
I whistled low and grinned at the Gemondian king. That’s one fearsome squirrel.
Do not fear, mate. I will keep you safe.
Chuckling, I said to the king, “We’re in the clear.”
Then I tuned them out and focused on stretching the moss-green power farther behind us. I could see the edge of my Phaetyn wall ahead; the power tucked around the ten rows of Gemondians in front of the army. I’d spent the last five hours extending the veil to the men behind me.
A trickle of sweat rolled down my neck, despite the evening air, and I knew when I dropped the veil I’d need some serious nectar. On the positive side, holding the power steady was much easier in my Phaetyn form. I supposed my Phaetyn side still preferred light and my Drae side still preferred darkness. Unfortunately, that meant to prevent unnecessary fatigue, I was on the ground while Tyrrik was in the air, scouting. How much am I covering now?
I got an image from his mind’s eye and smiled at the aerial view of my work. Oh yeah, I was getting better. I whooped aloud and said, “One third.”
“One third?” the Gemondian king asked, his brows knitting together. His tone was sharper than I’d ever heard. “One third of what?”
Yikes. I guess the partial conversations were really getting to him. I met his weary gaze and explained, “I’m covering one third of your army with my Phaetyn powers. With it up, Draedyn won’t be able to see your men.”
I had no idea how effective the Phaetyn mojo was against the alpha’s fire. I couldn’t only go on what happened at Kanahele o keola and the journey there. Draedyn couldn’t enter the Phaetyn veil when it was up, and Draedyn’s first attempt to take over my mind had cut off when Lani’s veil went up, so I assumed Draedyn’s physical powers couldn’t penetrate a Phaetyn veil either. But even with ancestral powers, I didn’t have a magic crown. I shouldn’t rely on the veil being impenetrable, especially because I shared a bond with the psycho-ruler I was attempting to hide us from.
I’d had so little time to explore my powers, yet everything seemed to hinge on me figuring them out.
Now that my father had broken in and controlled me once, would he be able to do it again with ease? What about when I was in my Phaetyn form, could he do it then? Or even when I had my veil up because he was related to me? I swallowed back the churning insecurity and doubt.
“Once you’re able to cover the whole army,” mused Dyter, walking beside me, “we should practice keeping the veil up in battle. Draedyn isn’t going to just sit quietly while you assemble your defenses. You need to be able to fight and keep the veil in place.”
He’d spent most of the afternoon pulling me back into line. When I concentrated on my Phaetyn powers, I occasionally forgot to pay attention to where I was walking.
“Yeah, about that. I think I should try to juggle, too, all at the same time. Maybe even while riding a horse.”
Dyter grimaced. “Perhaps something more like avoiding punches and swinging a sword?”
He was so easy to bait these days. I hummed. “We should do all of the above.” I nodded. “Excellent. Thanks for the advice, Dyter.”
Zakai cleared his throat. “Gairome, this seems a good area to stop our march for the day. Night is falling fast, and I’m certain the men need what’s left of the light to set up camp.”
I can’t wait to drop this thing, I admitted to Tyrrik as the call went out for the army to halt.
He hurtled toward the ground, and I could feel my eagerness echoed in his impatience.
The last time I’d released the veil, I practically collapsed, so I waited until he’d shifted and was approaching before slowly letting go.
I groaned under my breath with the release. Seriously, if someone was rubbing warm stones up my back, the relief would only be half as good.
I exhaled as the moss-green power shrunk, and then when only Tyrrik and I were covered, I let go of the Phaetyn veil completely. My knees shook, and although letting go of the veil felt amazing, my muscles trembled with exhaustion.
Tyrrik leaned over and scooped me into his arms.
“Hey,” I accused, half-heartedly narrowing my eyes at him. “You landed inside my veil.”
“You can’t keep me out now that we’ve fully mated,” he said with a smirk.
I laughed at the burst of male pride radiatin
g through our bond. “That comment would be super creepy if it weren’t true.” Now, I had no defenses against Tyrrik, not that I even wanted or needed any defenses against him. I nestled to his chest. I mean who’d want to keep out a handsome hunk of Drae like Tyrrik, except for past-Ryn who couldn’t see clearly. Maybe past-Ryn could’ve done with a few wakeup slaps.
His features softened, and he added, “You look tired.”
“Lord Tyrrik, Lady Tyrryn.”
Mistress Moons. What was with the guards? I listened to Tyrrik’s quiet snicker, making a mental note to inform Zakai my name was, and would always be, Ryn. There was far too much pun potential with Tyrryn. Tyrryn down walls. Tyrryn toward danger. The world couldn’t handle all the puns I would make if they continued to call me Tyrryn.
I eyed the man, surprised my eyelids still worked because my body had checked out for the foreseeable future.
“Your tent is set up this way.” The guard bowed.
What did I say about liking Zakai? I yawned.
I’d much rather stare at the stars, Tyrrik answered.
Privacy.
I didn’t have to say more. Tyrrik picked up his pace, following the guard through the pine trees to the middle of the encampment.
Good, if the army was camped around us, I’d be able to cover more of them if we received a night visit. Though I’m not sure how I’d do after holding the veil up all day.
. . . Drak.
I was exhausted. My stomach churned uneasily as I thought of our camp exposed all night because I’d overextended myself with practice during the day.
“Do you require anything else?” the guard asked, gaze shifting to where other soldiers were trailing out of the trees, back to the main valley.
“What’s happening?” I mumbled, too tired to even properly fume over my mistake. I couldn’t wear myself out to this extent again. The potential weakness in the veil due to my familial bond with Draedyn was one thing, but if I couldn’t put the defense up at all—or couldn’t hold it because I was spent—we were all goners. I’ve got to do better.
You will, my love, Tyrrik answered.
I shot him a weak smile.
“Prince Zarad is running a drill,” the guard said. “If the emperor attacks, the prince wants us close together so it’s easier to spread your power of invisibility over the group.” The man’s eyes were round with awe.
Tyrrik coughed.
Power of invisibility, huh? I liked it. I nodded sagely. “Practice hard, soldier.”
He bowed low, and Tyrrik coughed again, not speaking until the guard had joined the line leaving the forest.
“You’re going to call your veil that from now on, aren’t you?” Tyrrik asked. He ducked us into our tent.
“Hmm, what?” I asked as he set me on top of a blanket, and I lolled there like a blob. “What are you talking about?”
“The power of invisibility.”
“Oh that,” I said casually. “Maybe. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
Eyes narrowed, he stared at me until I couldn’t hold my grin in. He snorted and dropped from his stooped position to sit by my side. I wasn’t sure who’d carried our tent and set it up, but I was glad for it. Really glad. Like, I would maybe show the person something from my hoard in return. Except I’d hidden it back in Gemond, so it would have to be an IOU one glimpse at my hoard kind of thing.
The tent ceiling was low, only to the middle of Tyrrik’s chest, and the tent appeared to be made of a quilted material. Whoever put it up had strung it between two trees and then stretched out either side before lining the interior with soft cushions and two thick blankets.
There were perks to being a Drae-Phaetyn with the power of invisibility.
“Aren’t you tired?” I asked Tyrrik, who was staring out the entrance to the tent.
“After my battle with the one-eyed squirrel? Exhausted.”
He blinked and picked up my legs, removing my boots. I groaned as he rubbed my calves.
“Sweet potato pancakes,” I mumbled. “Please don’t ever stop doing that.”
“I’m not inclined to when you make sounds like that.” He kneaded the muscles down, rotating my ankles before moving onto my feet.
At this rate, I’d be asleep in the next few minutes, but there was one thing I needed to do first. I handed Tyrrik the pouch of seeds and said, “Would you go scatter some of these outside. We’re going to need to eat tomorrow.”
I pulled up the two thick blankets covering the ground and pressed my palm atop the dried pine needles beneath.
“Are you sure that’s wise, my love? You’ve expended a lot of energy today already.”
I yawned and shooed him toward the door. “I’m no use against Draedyn tonight anyway, and growing stuff doesn’t take much energy. But food will keep the army’s strength up so they can fight.”
Does this help? Tyrrik stared at me, and a moment later, the tendrils of his onyx power extended toward me. He pushed the tendrils into me, his energy seeping through the warmth of the power swirling around me. I sighed as the black threads settled back with mine into our normal intertwining bond.
“Better?” he asked.
“A bit, yes. How . . . Did you know that would work?”
I didn’t feel great, but he’d definitely restored some of my energy levels. I felt stronger.
He shrugged. “I didn’t know. But if you can strengthen me, it makes sense I could return the favor.”
Wow. How progressive. In Drae culture, the male was the strength and the female the peace-maker. She tempered his violence, and he protected her above all else. For Tyrrik to strengthen me spoke volumes, almost more than anything else he’d done. And if I had to keep a veil up for a long period of time, reversing the power boost could come in useful.
My heart swelled with emotion, but I swallowed my reaction, not wanting to embarrass him. “Thank you, my mate. I love you.”
He paused, his fingers still where he’d been massaging the front of my thighs, and whispered, “And I love you.”
Leaning forward, he plucked the seeds from my hand and stooped to exit the tent. I listened to him scatter the seeds around the clearing. He returned and replaced the packet in my aketon.
Boosted somewhat by his energy, I focused on my palm, shooting green Phaetyn energy into the ground. I kept up a steady trickle, stopping far before I usually would. Perhaps pumpkins don’t always need to be the size of a Drae.
With a fraction of my mind determined to understand my power and most of my attention on Tyrrik’s hands, I sunk into slumber.
The smell of damp dirt and leafy growth made me shiver and whimper. A heavy weight pressed on my mind because I knew what that smell meant. I opened my eyes, and horror’s vice-like grip forced the air from my lungs. I gasped, shallow breaths, trying greedily to take what I needed to remain calm.
But it wasn’t enough.
Tall sunflowers surrounded me, fully blossomed, their vibrant-yellow petals mocking me, taking me back in time, holding me prisoner there. I leapt from my bed, pushing the blankets to the ground, and reached for the nearest stalk, knowing time was running out. No one could see these flowers! The hairs of the spiky stems dug into my palms, but I ignored the discomfort and frantically yanked.
The soil released the shallow roots, and the sunflower pulled free. One down. I rotated, grabbing stems in each hand as I tried to clear my cell. One, two, five, twenty. Faster and faster.
If Jotun saw the growth, he would know what I was. He’d turn me into King Irdelron, and I would forever be a slave. They could hurt everyone I cared about. And if they knew I feared these things, they would use that knowledge against me.
My heart pounded as I ripped up bloom after bloom, twisting and snapping the thick stalks, my fear squeezing from my eyes and dripping into the rich dirt. I glanced behind, and a dismayed moan left my lips. Where I’d pulled out the sunflowers, more had grown, a lot more, at least two to three times as many, but bruised petals and broken stalks lit
tered the ground too. Jotun would know I’d tried to hide the sunflowers.
They’d know what I feared.
The outer door clicked open, and I stilled at the sound of a blade on Ty’s bars. No, not a blade. A talon.
Lord Irrik was here to play his sick games once again. Only now I knew what would hurt him. I knew his weakness to Phaetyn power. I could exact my revenge.
I threw the flowers to the dank dungeon floor and gritted my teeth. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stood defiantly and waited. But confusion nagged at me, and I frowned. Why did I feel that Lord Irrik was . . . misunderstood?
I shook my head as the wisp of uncertainty was dragged away, and purpose infused me.
Lord Irrik crossed to my cell’s bars, the sleek and powerful lines of his frame gliding forward like liquid darkness. Jotun trailed behind with a cruel smile contorting his features.
“Take her to the torture room,” Lord Irrik said, his voice licking my soul with its warm embers. “Show her what we do to traitors.”
My stomach roiled, and the hatred I held for the Drae and his cruelty burned through my chest, stretching out to my extremities. He would pay for what he did to me and my mum. Shaking my head again, the doubt returned. This wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right. I was missing something about the Lord Drae. I glanced at the still-smirking Jotun. He was the enemy. I . . .
Bending forward, I clutched my head.
“Ryn?” Irrik said.
I jerked violently. Somehow, he’d gotten into my cell without opening my door. How was that possible? He loomed over me, his fingers tracing from my temple to my chin, his touch liquid fire. He nudged me, tilting my chin high, and then buried his face in my neck. His lips trailed kisses down my pulsing vein, and I gasped at the fire coursing through me.
The desire was forced away, and darkness replaced the fire.
This was Irrik’s game. The poisonous kiss of a Drae, meant to control me and force me to do his bidding. He was evil, wicked, his touch poison.
He needed to die.
I screamed, striking him with my Phaetyn power, throwing him into the sunflowers surrounding us. I was sick of doing only what was necessary. I refused to live in fear any longer. Yet fear was driving me as I clenched my fist, bringing the yellow blooms and their long stems tight to his body, wrapping him in their growth to bind him to the ground. No one would enslave me again. No one would hurt the people I loved.
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