Black Crown

by Kelly St Clare

  You okay now? I asked Tyrrik, only half-listening to the numbers of our army.

  Mmm. Yes. More than okay. He accompanied his answer with a jolt of white-hot lust that had me gasping out loud.

  The voices around us faltered, and I stared back at eight pairs of wide eyes while I tried to gather my thoughts . . . out of Tyrrik’s aketon.

  Tyrrik wasn’t nearly so stunned since he was the one causing the disruption. He spoke silkily, “Carry on.”

  Once the discussion resumed, he thought at me, That’s the first time you’ve sent me energy when I wasn’t dying.

  I arched a brow, attempting to appear nonchalant, but my heart continued to throw itself against my ribs, desperately wanting to dance the maypole with Tyrrik. Clearly, my power must’ve made him feel all kinds of turned on, and he wanted to return the favor. Bad timing, I shot at him, and his laughter echoed in my mind. Seriously, since combusting in the tent and card playing are out right now, I’m going to focus on the conversation.

  They’re talking about the potential alliance with Azule. Once we cross the border, we’ll still have a full day’s journey to the center of the country where the king or queen lives.

  How are you—I tuned him out and focused on Zarad.

  “While we enter into talks with Azule’s leader, we’ll also be awaiting the arrival of King Calvetyn and the Veraldians,” the prince said.

  I butted in. “Who rules Azule?”

  “By our last report, Queen Mily held power, but Azulis have been known to change their ruler frequently. The queen was reported to be . . . eager. If luck is with us, she still holds the throne.”

  I’d already gotten the sense of rural Azule as a harsh, rugged kingdom from the twins, and Zarad’s vague information was confusing, but I wouldn’t pass judgment until I’d met the queen myself. Even so, I didn’t assume she’d be sending out a welcome party. I slid my gaze to where Zakai now sat on a wooden stool, studiously attending his son’s words.

  “When Caltevyn arrives, he’ll want to negotiate the terms of the plan I spoke of last week. But I think it would be wise to introduce the possibility before his arrival if we can lay the groundwork,” Dyter said.

  Hold up.

  “What plan?” Tyrrik beat me to the question.

  Dyter glanced at us. “Using Azule’s fleet to bring back the young men from the emperor’s war overseas. Our numbers would be greatly increased by doing so.”

  I stared at him, my eyes narrowing the more I heard. Finally, I snapped. Doing my best to control my frustration, I asked, “How long has this been Calvetyn’s plan?”

  The tent hushed, and the tension ratcheted up a bajillion notches. Dyter looked at me, and I looked right back.

  The man who had always been my mentor and protector scanned my face, no doubt picking up on the unstated accusation and my irritation for being kept out of the loop.

  Dyter squared his shoulders and said, “Since Calvetyn was sent to the frontline by his father. To die. He ended up meeting several key people, and the army has been ready to return and fight with us. It is why the rebellion first accepted Calvetyn into their midst. He merely required the means to bring the army back, but Azule has more than enough boats to achieve this. Our army could be increased within a few days, doubled within a month if the plan is undertaken immediately.”

  I clenched my jaw, holding Dyter’s gaze. At what point was he going to tell me all of this? He’d found time to tell the Gemondian’s. He’d obviously known Cal’s plan before leaving Verald. Dyter had travelled for months with me, with the specific intention of opening negotiations with Azule for this very purpose.

  I was a part of this. Not to toot my own horn, but I was a big part of it. By the end of the war, I’d either be slave to my father or finally free. I was investing my powers, my life, and my mind to the cause, risking every single one of them. At one point, months ago, I hadn’t wanted to know anything, but that time was long gone, and I knew Dyter knew that.

  “I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark,” I said, in what I believed to be a mostly calm voice.

  No one else spoke.

  “There’s hardly been time,” Dyter countered.

  One minute in the last three weeks. That’s all it would have taken to say: Oh, and Calvetyn-will-be-asking-Azule-to-send-their-boats-and-retrieve-the-overseas-army. I pursed my lips, wanting to call Dyter out on it, but I wouldn’t embarrass him in front of the other rulers. He was worthy of more respect than that. I just needed him to acknowledge I was no longer the same oblivious-Ryn who’d worked for him in the tavern all that time ago. I tilted my head and asked, “Do I look the same as the girl in The Crane’s Nest?”

  He sighed, unsurprisingly understanding my unspoken context. He scrubbed his palm down his face and then said, “You don’t, Ryn. And I apologize. It was remiss of me not to ensure you knew of the plan.”

  I searched his gaze, seeing only the same Dyter I’d always known. His sincerity rang true, and his eyes were filled with love as they always had been for me and my mum. I decided to take him at face value, literally. I nodded and admitted, “We have been busy.”

  Tyrrik leaned forward, tapping a black talon on the wood. “Is there anything else Ryn and I haven’t been informed about that you would like to tell us now?” He looked at Zakai, Zarad, and then Dyter. No one spoke, and Tyrrik nodded. “Let’s make sure we all act in good faith moving forward.”

  “How will Azule react when an army shows up on their doorstep?” I asked. “Do we know how Queen Mily thinks? What she will do?”

  The tension in the tent lowered somewhat, the Gemondians talking over the top of each other about how little information we had about the Azulis.

  Was I overreacting? I seized the lull to ask Tyrrik.

  No, Tyrrik responded immediately. But you’re not the only one who needs to accustom themselves to the changes in you. I believe Dyter just saw that. And those who knew you before you went to the forest.

  I exhaled slowly and studied the group.

  “I had planned to send an envoy ahead of the army,” Zakai replied.

  Because I was watching the group, I saw the woman who’d challenged me flinch. I crossed my arms and asked, “You don’t agree with that, Commander?”

  She jerked in her seat, her attention jumping to me, and then she darted a look at Zakai and wet her lips. “Not exactly. I mean, no. I believe arriving with the army might come across threatening, but to send in a single emissary is just a different risk. We don’t know how an envoy will be received any more than the army.” She shrugged. “How could a message convey what we need to say? How can we be certain of Azule’s allegiance or whether they’ll trick us? I think it wiser to see their eyes when brokering for the freedom of nations.”

  “What are you proposing, Commander?’ the prince asked. “You want to send in how many?”

  Tyrrik shook his head. “She doesn’t want to send in a group of messengers; she’s proposing we go ourselves.” He grinned. “I like it.”

  “We don’t send an envoy. We send a small show of power,” Dilowa added. “Not enough to threaten but enough to make them pause if they are considering foul play.”

  “I like it too,” I said. “I’m going.” There’s no way I wasn’t meeting the Azule leader to get the measure of her. Or him.

  “As am I,” Tyrrik said. “If we wait to leave until the army is within a day’s walk of Azule, Ryn and I can be here in a couple of hours or so if Draedyn attacks.”

  “I’d like to represent Verald,” Dyter said.

  King Zakai glanced at his son. “Zarad will represent Gemond, and I would like Commander-General Gairome and Commander Dilowa to accompany him.”

  “Someone will represent the Phaetyn,” I hastily threw in. “I’d like to convince Queen Lani to remain behind if she’ll agree, in case Draedyn attacks. She’ll be able to veil the entire army. I’ll go scout for her before we leave. She can’t be far away.”

  Dyter blew out a breath as
those in the tent quieted, each of us staring at the map. “Decades of blood, sweat, and hunger,” he said. “We’ve waited a long time for this to come together.”

  I thought of the Penny Wheel where I grew up. How normal hunger had been for me and starvation for most everyone else. I thought of the meetings Dyter held in his tavern and Arnik’s blazing ideas of rebellion that had ended too abruptly. The assassins I’d met this morning had dedicated their lives to better the world. Every person in this tent, every person in this realm, had lost something to the emperor.

  My gaze traced the ink lines of the Azule kingdom on the map, northwest of our current position. Dyter was right: every person in this room had paid their taxes to Emperor Draedyn in blood, sweat, and hunger.

  We’re getting closer, Tyrrik said, staring at the same spot on the map.

  Yes. I took a deep breath. We are.

  20

  “Khosana,” Tyrrik murmured, shaking my shoulder.

  I groaned, rolling onto my back as I considered, possibly, maybe, opening my eyes. The sleeping roster was a pain in my Most-Important-Drae butt. This was the worst, when I’d only caught a few hours because of staying up all day.

  “Sleep longer,” Tyrrik said, removing his hand.

  I groaned again. Tyrrik was at least as exhausted as me and still offering to keep watch. He’d let me sleep the entire night. Again.

  I dragged my eyelids apart and blinked up at him through bleary eyes. “No, I’m awake.” I scrubbed my face with both hands. “I’m awake. I’m awake.”

  He lay down beside me and pulled me to him, my back to his chest, and kept his arm wrapped around my waist.

  “Anything interesting?” I mumbled.

  He stretched the collar of my chemise and kissed my shoulder. “Nothing.”

  I sighed and turned to kiss him, threading my hands through his black hair. He pulled me close, the blankets tangling between us. The worst thing about the sleeping roster was that it didn’t allow time for playing cards or dancing the maypole. And Romantic-Ryn definitely wanted a repeat of our game-time in Gemond.

  Although, perhaps not in a tent in the middle of an army.

  I brushed my tongue against Tyrrik’s one last time and then pulled away to breathe. Because that was important and oddly easy to forget when I was kissing my mate.

  I peeled back the blankets and got on my hands and knees. Focusing, I slowed my breathing and concentrated. I blinked as my eyes narrowed to slits and the objects in the dark tent gained definition.

  Using my Drae eyes, I quickly located my aketon and hose.

  “You’re getting faster,” Tyrrik said, followed by a yawn.

  At least I was getting better at something because that something certainly didn’t feel like my Phaetyn veil and Drae shield. I was still too slow at getting them in place if they were down, and still I had to focus to keep them up. “Thanks.”

  Tyrrik’s eyes were already closed when I ducked out of our tent. I kept my night vision going and focused on my sense of smell. I’d always found scent easiest to engage; something about it felt more instinctive to my Drae form. Tyrrik said the nose and ears were most instinctive, followed by the eyes. My fangs came and went as they liked, usually in response to anger or the deep yearning low in my stomach I now knew meant I wanted to practice making Drae babies.

  I was getting the hang of the eyes now, so next up was talons. I’d wait until the perfect moment then flick out a blue blade. Maybe opening a letter in a meeting. Or chopping up a chicken roast. I had plans. Big plans.

  I followed my Drae sense of smell, picking up Tyrrik’s pine and smoke scent immediately. We were camped at the base of a mountain, still within the Gemond ranges. We hadn’t encountered another forest since that first night, just small copses of trees here and there, but I preferred the open space. It meant I could see everyone at once, and when our food supplies ran low, there was still a coating of dirt on the valley floor to grow vegetables.

  I traced Tyrrik’s scent to a rock a short way up the mountain, which put me at eye level with the tent tops. Tyrrik always found the best spots. I smiled when I saw the blanket he’d left out for me.

  Sitting cross-legged on the flat rock, I scanned the sleeping army, spotting the sentries in their usual places around the perimeter while some of them stood guard part way up the mountainside as I did.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Flexing my mind muscles, I cast my Phaetyn power outward. With my next breath, I opened my eyes and directed the moss-green veil over the tents beneath me, stretching it all the way across the valley. Right. Good. Our tent was central, so I pushed the veil out to the right first, stopping at intervals when my mind felt strained. I kept at it, propelling the blanket-of-invisibility until it reached the outskirts of the right flank.

  I paused to catch my breath. What did the sentries think when they peered up and found half of their comrades gone? I mean, we’d warned them after the first time, but still, seeing it had to be strange.

  “Okay, Ryn,” I grunted, wiping away the sweat trickling down the side of my forehead.

  Keeping the right side of the veil where it was, I took a mental hold on the other side, still in the middle of the encampment, and began to nudge it toward the left. I’d been covering more and more of the army each night. But when they were like this, all in one neat and much smaller spot, covering them seemed almost achievable. Half an hour to concentrate? I could get almost eighty or ninety percent. No problem.

  Zarad was drilling the army daily, forcing them to congregate into a small space in case Draedyn attacked. I was the limiting factor because I wouldn’t have thirty minutes to erect my defense.

  I panted, my nudges to the veil much more like shoves by now—out, out, out.

  I trained my eyes on the glistening edge to the left. This invisibility cloak felt like it was about to snap and was still short of covering the army. Nope. It’s all good. Just hold it here for a bit. I could usually push it a little more after that—like leaning down to stretch the backs of my thighs.

  I breathed in and out, focusing on the veil.

  When the tension dissipated slightly, I shimmied the power to cover more of the left flank and held it there again, shifting the veil out another few feet when it relaxed. On the next hold, the tension didn’t dissipate. At all.

  I rolled my neck and told myself I should try again. Maybe at the end of the night. I brought the veil inward until I was the only thing inside its protection and then glanced over the army. I was getting better. I’d have to find a way to practice while we left the mountains. Our small envoy party would be leaving in the morning for Azule.

  Al’right. Next.

  Placing both hands on the ground, I focused on a tiny shrub wedged between two boulders before me. Building the pressure like water held back by a dam, I let the moss-green Phaetyn power accumulate inside my hands without release, staring at the shrub. The dam burst, and the power exploded from my fingertips. I grinned as a thick, pointed root as tall as Tyrrik shot out from the ground like a spear.

  Druman-killing-root-practice done. Cracking my knuckles, I shifted my butt on the rock and then adjusted my blanket. Think fast, Ryn. I held my Phaetyn veil in place, reached for my blue Drae tendrils of power, and whipped them around my head until I’d coiled them into a solid covering. Diamond shell, diamond shell, diamond shell. I could practically feel my power getting tougher.

  With my Phaetyn cloak and diamond helmet, I was invisible to everyone and everything. And I was thankful for that invisibility because my helmet and cloak had to look absolutely, freakin’ ridiculous.

  I continued to focus on my powers, on keeping them solid and tuning out everything else around me: soft sighs, not-so-soft snores, the scrape of boots on stone as the sentries moved about, the fluttering of the tent flaps.

  Then I dropped all of it, the cloak and the helmet.

  And repeated.

  Again and again and again.

  Because one day, this wou
ld have to be enough.

  The crisp mountain air did nothing to cool my anxiety; it crawled over my skin and, even in my Drae form, made my stomach churn. The plan was to leave for Azule today, but Lani and the Phaetyn were still nowhere to be seen. This was my third flight in search of her gold veil, and it would have to be my last. Our last. Keeping my Drae shield wrapped around my mind and my Phaetyn veil in place were easier now, but we were running out of time to beat the army to Azule.

  I’m going to land.

  Why? Do you see them? Tyrrik asked, swinging his head toward me.

  No. But see those trees over there? I tilted my chin toward the small copse of evergreens. Maybe the trees out here will talk to me like they did in Zivost.

  Gone were the days where I would consider talking to trees the height of crazy.

  Clever. Tyrrik followed my lead, and we banked hard within the moss-green confines of my Phaetyn veil, dropping altitude fast due to the limited flat area on the slope where we intended to land. I touched down on the gray shale, Tyrrik landing behind me. The mountain side plateau where we’d perched was just large enough to contain us. In front, the level space was bordered with a dozen tall evergreens clustered together.

  The area felt bigger as soon as we shifted—for obvious reasons.

  With Tyrrik still by my side, I strode forward, wove my way to the base of the trunk of the tallest tree, and put my hands to the rough bark, kindly asking to speak with Lani.

  I frowned and glanced at Tyrrik. “Nothing,” I said. “It’s not working.”

  Tyrrik grimaced. “Have you ever tried to talk to the trees outside of Zivost?”

  “No. But Lani said it didn’t matter as long as I was in my Phaetyn form.”

  “Try covering the tree with your Phaetyn-mojo,” he said with a cheeky grin.

  You’re hysterical. I actually thought the word mojo on his lips was pretty funny.