by Raye Wagner
I checked Tyrrik and shifted my legs as much as his weight allowed. The restlessness of my mind made no sense. “Tell me of Gemond, Dyter. Please.”
I couldn’t shake my repulsion over what I’d seen, and to me, the Gemond King and the emperor were pretty much on equal footing in terms of horrors induced on the helpless. Dyter couldn’t ask one villain to join his team against another.
“You know their kingdom is nestled deep in the Gemond Mountains at the northern tip of the realm?”
I nodded as his voice carried forward to me.
“They’re miners. They excavate everything from minerals, various rock, and precious gems. But, like we in Verald, the hunting of the Phaetyn resulted in the slow death of their kingdom. Their land is stripped just like Verald. Their population has also suffered loss—there are more women than men.”
I nodded. I understood all of that. We might grow some plants on our own, but the way Dyter spoke of Gemond, it didn’t seem that much different than Verald.
“Their society does have some distinct differences.”
“You mean besides eating each other?” I muttered.
Dyter continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Gemond is a polygamous society. Rather than have large numbers of single and widowed women, they adopted polygamy. It’s been that way for years . . . as long as I can remember.”
That was nothing like Verald. The idea of sharing—I sucked in a deep breath and realized I was gripping Tyrrik’s aketon. I forced myself to relax my hold as I thought of the rationale of that type of society. Was that worse than what I’d seen growing up? With the ratios of men to women, maybe not.
“But you’re referencing their eating habits, I assume.”
Eating habits? “That’s putting cannibalism mildly.”
“As I understand it,” he said, ignoring my quip, “In a bid to keep his people fed and his kingdom viable, King Zuli decreed women over the age of fifty and men over the age of seventy would have to leave the kingdom proper. Only those who can reproduce are kept fed by the kingdom; the rest are escorted into the depths of the Gemond Mountains to live out their remaining days as best they can.”
My mouth dropped open. “That’s horrible. He throws out the old people? How could he do such a thing? How can their families bear it?”
“I don’t know, Rynnie,” Dyter said softly. “King Zuli was the first king to institute the practice, and he left when he turned seventy, just like the others. His son, Zakai, is the king now.”
Obviously the king of Gemond was a monster, and his son was equally insane. Just as ours had been, a power-hungry tyrant who cared for no one.
As I sat simmering in anger, Kamoi called back to us, “Another two hours, and we shall reach the heart of Zivost and our people.”
Our people. The two words pulled me from my darkening thoughts. I was going to meet my people and learn Phaetyn ways. Maybe Kamoi could teach me how to make things grow without my spit or blood. That would be handy when I went back to Verald . . . or maybe while I was here by Gemond. “Will you teach me how to do the plant stuff?” I called ahead. “Like how can I make things grow, and how do we replenish the land? Oh, and can you explain the healing mojo, how that works?”
The two Phaetyn winced though the prince turned to me. With his features settled into a weary expression, he replied, “Yes, Ryn. Power like yours could do much good if properly honed. We will teach you all we can.”
All we can. “Can’t you teach me everything?”
Kamoi shifted in his saddle, facing back to the front, but not before I caught sight of his frown.
“Can’t you?” I pressed.
His voice was tight as his words floated back to me. “I’m afraid only time will tell us that.”
* * *
The air in the middle of the Zivost forest smelled of mint, pine, and citrus; the scent calming and clean. The clearing looked like a cross-section of the Market Circuit back in Verald—stalls of produce were interspersed with artisan crafts: ceramic bowls, tapestries, woven baskets, and bolts of fabrics in natural hues.
The Phaetyn varied in size and shape, but none appeared sickly or wan. Their pale skin practically glowed, and their glistening silver hair hung straight and lustrous; most of the men wore their hair pulled back at the napes of their necks while the women wore their locks loose.
As we passed, the murmur of their voices followed. Despite the melodic sound, there was a clipped edge to their whispered conversations. Many violet eyes widened as Kamoi escorted us toward a large tree in the center of the clearing in Zivost, or Phaetynville—as I’d dubbed it.
“What are they saying?” I asked Dyter. As if he would know.
He rolled his eyes at me, and I responded with a one-shouldered shrug. I couldn’t help my instinct to ask him. Until recently, I’d always assumed Dyter knew everything in the realm. In reality, he probably still knew way more than me.
I shifted Tyrrik’s body again. Despite his leanness, the Drae was heavy and his weight was putting my legs to sleep.
I met the gaze of a female Phaetyn around my age, but she broke off our shared stare and walked away. I tried the same thing with another Phaetyn, and another, yet as soon as I caught someone’s eye, they averted their gaze.
“Do I have something on my face, Dyter?” I asked.
Stupid question. I was a mess. My aketon was torn and bloody, both with Tyrrik’s black blood and my blue. I had an unconscious Drae draped across me, who was also a bloody mess, not to mention he was their sworn enemy. Could they tell what he was just by looking at him? To me, he’d never looked ‘of this world,’ too handsome, too world-weary, too fond of black clothing. But could they tell?
“Kamoi spoke with the elders as we neared,” Dyter told me in a whisper.
“How?”
“Through the trees.” The old man shrugged. I had to admire his ability to adapt. The girl he’d known from early childhood was both a Phaetyn and a Drae, and we were walking through a forest of sentient trees, and Dyter looked as calm as if he was serving stew and ale on a Thursday night.
“It’s likely word has spread about what you are. I’m sure they are just as curious about you as you are about them,” he added.
I was a mess and a novelty. Excellent. Great. Best news ever. And why was he whispering if they already knew? Alarm bells rang in my head, and my skin crawled as the Phaetyn’s eyes continued to avert upon landing on me, like I’d stepped in horse turd and no one wanted to tell me. “But we’re safe here, right?”
As if in response, a high-pitched whistle buzzed in my right ear, and I instinctively leaned forward, covering Tyrrik with my body.
A sharp pinch in my side made me gasp. Warmth spread from the area, and with it came a jolt of energy that made my heart race. What the hay?
I reached around my torso, and my hand brushed a feathered shaft . . . stuck in my body. In my body. Which would’ve been Tyrrik’s body if I hadn’t covered him. Mistress moons! That made me furious. Did they not know how much effort it took to save him?
I yanked the dart out and stared at the three inch needle. I could feel my skin knit back together. My simmering anger turned to rage in a heartbeat, and scales exploded up the sides of my neck. I had not gone through all that trouble to save Tyrrik only to have him killed here.
“Kamoi,” I said. Except a harsh growl came out instead, resounding through the clearing.
Someone screamed, and more erupted. Several Phaetyn darted out of the clearing and into the trees.
The gorgeous Phaetyn prince turned in his saddle, and I threw the dart at him. “You bloody well better not be intentionally betraying me, or I’ll personally make sure the Phaetyn are extinct.”
I breathed hard, trying not to Drae-out completely. That would be a bad thing, especially for Tyrrik.
Kamoi’s eyes widened, and his skin paled. “Leoleo, laina i luga,” he barked. “Taofi ia saogalemu, aemaise le fafine.”
A dozen male Phaetyn appeared, each with a sp
ear in one hand and an expansive shield in the other. These men looked nothing like the civilians in the marketplace, obvious by their muscular bodies, their matching purple aketons, and the way they carried themselves. They wore fierce expressions, and their corded arms were sleeved in winding and intricate tattoos. They surrounded our party in a protective circle.
Kamoi faced me, his violet eyes glowing. “I’m so sorry, Kealani.”
15
The Phaetyn prince dropped back to ride beside me. After an uncomfortable moment, he continued his apology, “I hadn’t anticipated bringing Lord Tyrrik with us, so I had no time to prepare my people.”
I glared at him. “I wouldn’t think you’d have to prepare your people. He’s riding with us, so he should be safe. And what about your talking trees?”
“Of course. You’re right. I had notified our elders, however the forest is large and our people spread throughout it. Not everyone would have been alerted, and Drae are our natural enemy.”
Tyrrik wasn’t their enemy any more than I was. My gaze caught Dyter’s, and I read the caution in his eyes, so I bit my tongue instead of yelling at more Phaetyn and skimmed over the now gathering crowd, searching for any lurking threats.
The gathered Phaetyn crowd contained a mixture of wide eyes and gaping mouths as well as others who just plain ol’ glared at me, their jaws set into rigid lines as they took in my blue scales and what felt like my reptilian eyes. So much for them being a peaceful race. My body was reacting to the threat they posed.
I remained hunched over Tyrrik as I scanned the area.
That central tree didn’t seem to be getting any closer, and the serenity I’d felt when I first stepped into the forest was ebbing away. Taking a closer look, I noticed the crowd had divided into two distinct groups on either side of our escort. Those to my right didn’t seem angry at me, but rather at the rest of the Phaetyn. Those to my left were all young men and women, and judging by the glares aimed my way, they didn’t like me and Tyrrik one bit. I wasn’t so sure Kamoi’s twelve guards would hold them all off if they charged. I would go full Drae if they didn’t watch out.
“How much farther until we’re safe?”
“Not much farther,” Kamoi said with a frown. “Ryn, you are safe here.”
“Mm-hmm,” I replied, making sure to be just as helpful as he’d been.
The guards halted and faced outward, banging their spears and shields together with a loud clatter. I turned to look back, and a wave of energy rippled over me from the direction of the tree. I gasped, staggering with a deep and sudden sense of yearning.
I forgot about the guards, the faction of young Phaetyn, and almost Tyrrik as I slid from the horse to the ground. I released my hold on the Drae, watching for any signs of agony, but Tyrrik’s limp body remained draped over our horse. We’d moved into the central safe zone, apparently.
Giving into the new yearning with a sigh that I felt soul-deep, I moved toward the ginormous gnarled elm reaching into the sky, its branches extending out as wide as the limbs extended above us. The rough bark was warm beneath my palm, and I ran my fingertips over the trunk in a soft caress, my heart shuddering.
A sense of home washed over me. A deep feeling of belonging, a tenderness that reminded me of my mother, the love she’d had for me, deep enough that she would sacrifice her life, and this brought tears to my eyes. I dropped to my knees.
The feeling didn’t stop but expanded, and images flashed behind my closed eyelids. A beautiful Phaetyn woman, laughing as she ran through the forest, her lover chasing after. The two of them kissing in an obvious binding celebration. A crowd of Phaetyn cheering as she spoke to them. This was their queen with her mate? The images shifted, and shadows fell over the forest. Blind panic was etched on the faces of Phaetyn, young and old. The numbers of Phaetyn dwindled, and the queen addressed her people, resignation on her face. The queen kissed her mate, she and a few of her attendants leaving the forest. As she left, the queen pulled the rocks up into jagged teeth, the jaws surrounding Zivost in a protective barrier none could penetrate.
At one with the trees, I longed to reach out for her and was crippled by my loneliness when she didn’t return. The images receded, fading into shadows of gray before dissolving into a canvas of solid black. A whisper of curiosity brushed my mind, but when an image of Irdelron standing over me surfaced, I broke contact with the elm with a gasp.
I closed my eyes, the bright light blinding me with stabbing pain in comparison to my time spent within the tree’s memories. Sitting, I pushed my palms into my eyes and put my head between my knees.
“What did you see?” Kamoi asked in a hushed voice. “Did the tree show you anything?”
I processed what I’d seen, opening my eyes and blinking so they’d adjust. “What happened to her? The previous queen?”
Kamoi’s lavender eyes darkened. “Luna Nuloa?”
I nodded. Her name fit her, like a sliver of moonbeam, delicate but strong.
“She—”
“Highness,” a guard yelled.
A crowd of Phaetyn marched toward us. Drak.
“I thought you said we’d be safe here, Kamoi.”
Prince Kamoi puffed his chest and extended his hand. “I did say that, Kealani, and I meant it. This is sacred ground.”
I let him pull me up, but as soon as I was standing, he released my hand and went to the guards.
Their murmuring was an indistinguishable chorus, but the low undercurrents betrayed their angst. Three of the guards waved their arms at me, and I ran to where Dyter stood by my horse and Tyrrik.
“This is not good,” Dyter said, stating the obvious. “I had no idea I was agreeing to take you into the middle of a war.”
I wrinkled my nose as I thought about it. “Is that what this is? Wait a minute. Can the Phaetyn harm each other? Is that even possible?”
Dyter shrugged, but beads of sweat glistened on top of his bald head. “I always thought the Drae were invincible and the Phaetyn extinct. I know hardly anything about them, except what I’ve learned from you and Kamoi on the journey here.”
I’d stopped listening, realizing I knew the answer, thanks to Ty, aka Tyr, aka Tyrrik. Phaetyn and Drae canceled each other which meant the Phaetyn needed Drae blood to kill one another.
I rested my hand on Tyrrik to assure myself he was still alive but pushed down my worry about his state as I eyed the crowd again. What the hay were they so angry about to begin with?
A second group of guards marched toward us by the sacred tree clearing, and the crowd of angry Phaetyn slowly dispersed.
Kamoi returned to us, shaking his head. “I’m sorry for the interruption, Kaelani—”
I held my hand out to stop him. “Don’t apologize. And don’t call me Kaelani. My name is Ryn. Just Ryn. I don’t have any pet names, except Rynnie, and only Dyter calls me that. You don’t control the people, do you? Is that your father’s job?”
Dyter cleared his throat, and I had a feeling I’d stepped in horse poop again.
“His mother’s job,” Dyter said. “His mother is the queen. The Phaetyn are a matriarchal society.”
Yikes. I winced. “Sorry,” I said with a grimace. “I’ve never been very good at politics.” Or cared.
Kamoi took my hand, and my heart started thumping despite all my bluster. Being that good looking wasn’t fair. His skin was really, really smooth. He led me back past the tree, and I stumbled to a halt. There was a path. A golden path. Like beautiful shiny gold that made me want to walk down it . . . and possibly dig up the sparkly bricks and put them in safe keeping. Drak. There was something wrong with my head when it came to shiny objects of late.
“My mother and father are expecting us. They live just over this way,” he said, indicating another, not shiny, path. “I’m sure they’ll have food and beds ready.”
“Wait,” I said belatedly.
I turned to see Dyter leading the horse with Tyrrik on it. I was about to walk off with sexy-schmexy Prince Phaetyn w
ithout my unconscious . . . friend . . . my acquaintance? Gah. I couldn’t leave Tyrrik.
I met Dyter halfway and put my hand back on Tyrrik as I asked, “How long is he going to sleep like this?”
Dyter lifted a shoulder. Right. Dyter doesn’t know everything.
I guess it’d be better to ask Kamoi my questions—at least the Phaetyn ones. “Do the Phaetyn all have the same powers? Can everyone do everything?”
Kamoi tucked a strand of silver hair behind his ear—could ears be hot—and came back to walk beside me. “No.”
“No . . .” Was that a no, I’m distracted? Or a no, I’m not telling you anything?
We started down the dirt path, but the road was narrow, and Dyter and the horse were forced to drop behind.
“So, do you have similar powers?” I pressed. “Phaetyn are all healers, right?”
“Yes,” Kamoi said, his eyes shifting to the left. His gaze returned to me, and he continued, “Phaetyn are all healers, but some have an affinity for animals, some for plants, some for the earth, and some, well, really only one—for people. The queen holds the most power, having the responsibility to protect our lands—”
Smoking bonfires. “Your mom is the most powerful Phaetyn?”
Kamoi chewed his lower lip as if contemplating his response. Or perhaps he was embarrassed by his mother's superpowers.
“Honestly, I think that's amazing.” I rushed to assuage his discomfort. “Does that mean you have superpowers like her?”
He chuckled, a low throaty sound, as he shook his head. Giving me a pointed look, he said, “My only superpower seems to be an inordinate amount of good luck.”
My mind blanked as our narrow path opened, and we stepped into a clearing.
The verdant grass sparkled like green emeralds. A beautiful ash tree, larger even than the elm that had just flashed images at me, sat directly in front of a pristine mansion made of rose quartz. With four spires, the house had a distinct castle feel although on a much smaller scale. And, while I was distracted by the gleaming structure for a moment, my attention snapped back to the tree.