by Raye Wagner
“Phaetyn used to roam throughout the Draconian realm,” she began. “It is only in the last century we were forced to confine ourselves in the heart of our familial forest where we are strongest. When the Veraldian King and Emperor sought to destroy us, my sister, then the Queen of Phaetyn, erected an unbreakable protection around our home which fed off her ancestral power.”
“Queen Luna,” I said. “She left this place.”
The temperature in the room dropped.
“She did,” Kaelan, Kamoi’s father, said, stepping closer. “In answer to the emperor’s summons, and she took her ancestral power with her, leaving us vulnerable. The emperor forced her, as he had with other Phaetyn, to use her powers in experiments on Drae women he’d impregnated. Drae cannot reproduce unless it is with their mate, but the emperor wanted more Drae, and none of the women he’d forced himself upon would carry to term. He drained Luna’s power over the years in an attempt to keep the pregnancies viable, without success. He killed many of our kind in this way. Years later, we heard rumors Luna had died—drained of her power completely.”
My lips numbed as I guessed the rest. “She healed my mother?”
The queen shrugged. “I would assume so, given your nature.”
Dyter neared, but I shot him a look to let him know I was okay. I’d put some of the pieces together myself since learning the Emperor was my father. My mother had run from him to hide in Verald; it didn’t take a genius to piece together she hadn’t liked him. But, since learning I was Drae and Phaetyn, I’d wondered how such a thing had happened with two Drae for parents. If what the queen said was correct, I was only Phaetyn because of Luna’s power.
The emperor hadn’t wanted a child with both sets of powers, just another Drae. If I’d been there, if he’d known what he was doing, he would’ve gotten way more than he bargained for. I blinked several times, processing. Remembering what the elm tree showed me earlier, I realized some of their story wasn’t quite true. They’d made it sound like Luna chose to leave the forest for selfish reasons, but that’s not what the tree had told me.
“Why did you encourage Queen Luna to leave the forest?” I asked.
17
The queen didn’t look well to begin with, but her color worsened, and she sagged against the headboard of her massive bed, her head lolling to the side. She took several deep breaths with her eyes closed as if she were trying to garner more strength.
This time, Dyter dug his nails in hard, and I inhaled sharply at the pinching pain before noticing all three Phaetyn had stilled.
Queen Alani’s breathing stuttered. “You have no idea how that memory tortures me, child.”
Not a child.
“We thought Luna could reason with the Emperor. The land was already showing signs of dying. My sister hoped to show Emperor Draedyn we were indispensable and use this as a bargaining chip.”
That’s not how the trees remembered the conversation going down, but I had enough wits about me now to interpret Dyter’s unsubtle warnings. We’d wandered into something deeper here, and my skin was crawling.
“That must have been hard for you,” I said with a smile.
The queen’s gaze landed on me, and I held my breath until she nodded and glanced away.
“It has been. I am now Queen of the Phaetyn, but our ancestral power is passed from mother to eldest daughter. I never possessed this power, and I never will. It takes everything I have to keep up the barrier against our enemies.”
Dyter spoke, “This is why you’re sick?”
Kamoi gripped his mother’s hand. “She gives everything so our people can survive here, yet the barrier is slowly crumbling without the ancestral power to reinforce it.”
“That is terrible.” I was speaking in earnest this time. If the barrier broke, the emperor and his Druman would descend on the Phaetyn in a flash.
Dyter peered at me with an intense expression I couldn’t interpret. He lifted his head, the expression gone, and addressed the queen. “Your Majesty, there is no better time for your people to unite with those of Verald against the Emperor’s rule.”
The king and queen broke into quiet laughter.
“Us? Fight the Emperor?” Kaelan said, shooting a mocking grin at a frowning Kamoi before facing me. “Why would we do that?”
I frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Let me ask another way,” he said. “Why would we help those who hunted us? When did anyone in this realm ever help us? They just used our powers and killed our children.”
“You would judge the entire realm based on the actions of two men?” Dyter asked.
Kamoi placed a hand on his father’s chest, stopping him from rounding on Dyter. I tensed, ready to kick some Phaetyn butt into the nearest talking tree.
“Don’t you?” Queen Alani asked. She looked at me. “Don’t you judge the realm by a few men? Don’t you wonder if the realm is worth saving?”
I glanced at Kamoi to confirm my suspicions. He gave me a sheepish look in return. The queen was aware of my time spent in the dungeons, judging by her comment. Her question dug close to something that had troubled me immensely ever since the night King Irdelron was killed. I had wondered the same thing—whether the realm was worth my time—whether the battle was mine to begin with . . . Whether I should find a small corner to escape to and leave the work to someone else. Why did I have to sacrifice my life for a cause? I’d never wanted to, never asked for this power. I’d lost so much, my own mother and friends, and to lose more wasn’t fair. Why did some people have to lose everything and some people nothing? Until now, I’d been determined that someone else could do the losing this time. Her words shamed me, and I swallowed. “You’re right, Queen Alani. I’ve asked myself the same question.”
Light flared in her eyes, and she leaned forward eagerly and asked, “And?”
I tilted my chin. “And I know what the right choice should be.”
“Nothing is more deceiving than the word should.” The queen smiled and closed her eyes, reclining into her pillows. “Even though you know what should be, you cannot give me a reason why this is the right thing to do.”
No, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t lie like everyone else. I refused to mislead her or anyone knowingly. I had that power.
“And yet, your barrier, your main defense against the emperor, is crumbling. That seems like a good reason to be proactive. At least to me,” Dyter said, scratching his chin.
“I grow weary,” the queen mumbled. “Please excuse me.”
Kamoi and Kaelan hurried to lay her flat, piling blankets upon her.
Her sickness seemed to rear its head at the most convenient times, in my humble opinion.
Dyter bowed. “We will leave you to rest, Queen Alani, and rest from our journey as well. Thank you for this audience. May your health return, and I hope to speak with you again soon.”
I didn’t bother curtseying or even inclining my head. If she could be conveniently ill, I could conveniently forget my manners. I stalked out of the chamber after Dyter without a word to anyone. To be gracious would be a lie, and I was over the lies.
“Wait,” my mentor cautioned me.
Blue scales erupted on my forearms, and my face burned. A pulsing need to transform and burn my way to the truth seized me. I was holding myself together, barely.
Dyter shoved me into the room where Tyrrik lay and muttered a hasty dismissal to the three guards.
I sat on the bed next to Tyrrik, glancing at him to check if he was still breathing. His chest rose and fell, and I rested my hand where the spike had torn through his aketon.
“What—” I started, but I cut off as Dyter held a finger to his lips. We listened in silence as three sets of footsteps receded.
Dyter popped his head out of the door and, after he’d closed it again, asked, “Hear anyone?”
With the threat in the air, my mood was heightened; focusing my hearing wasn’t hard right now. I turned my head side to side. There were no sounds of life
in this hall. I stretched my senses farther, but something, maybe the rose quartz, had to be dampening my Drae-hearing. I couldn’t hear the queen’s breathing two halls away, though I knew I should be able to.
I shook my head at him and crossed to pick up a wash cloth, dipping the spongy material in a basin of cool water. I wrung the cloth, returned to sit by Tyrrik, and began to wash his face.
“I really don’t like that woman,” I said quietly.
“I’d be worried if you did,” Dyter said.
He sighed, sitting heavily on the other bed. “I’d thought they would be more willing to help, judging by Kamoi’s eagerness to get us here.”
I dabbed at the black-and-blue blood spots caked on Tyrrik’s skin and studied his smooth face. Heavy despair settled over me, pulling my heartstrings with hopelessness. “They seem to hate us here. I don’t get it. Why was Kamoi so friendly to us?”
“You have no idea?”
Pausing in my ministrations, I lifted my head to study Dyter. He raised his eyebrows, and I asked, “What? You know why?”
Shaking his head, he leaned over to pull off his boots. When he sat back up, he gave me an exasperated look. “Rynnie, you need to start thinking of yourself as a power of this realm and not a farm girl.”
I snorted. “I was never much of a farm girl, anyway.”
“Fine,” he chuckled. “A soap girl.”
“Now soap I can help you with.”
We shared a brief grin.
Dyter drew closer, standing behind me, and together we leaned over Tyrrik’s face.
“You were able to bring Tyrrik inside the barrier when Kamoi was adamant a Drae couldn’t enter. And those moments you had with the trees earlier . . . you should’ve seen Kamoi’s face. The queen sent her son out of this place to find you, and I have a feeling these people don’t leave the forest lightly. Rynnie, what if you possess the ancestral powers needed to strengthen their barrier?” he asked in a low voice. “It would explain a lot.”
I dropped the wet cloth, hitting Tyrrik in the face, and quickly picked it up. “Drak.”
Dyter was right. Sending a prince to go locate a stray Phaetyn was going overboard. Had something happened when Luna poured her powers into my mother so I could live? My jaw dropped and a long moment passed before I stuttered, “I-I think you may be right.”
“Drak,” Dyter repeated. “And, unless I’m misunderstanding their hierarchy, the fact that you have ancestral powers poses a threat to the current queen’s rule. Possibly a serious threat.”
I dropped the wet cloth on the Drae’s face again, and this time, Dyter picked the washcloth up and rinsed the blood off in the basin. He handed the cloth back to me and pointed at Tyrrik’s blood-smeared arms.
“I’m not here to be their queen,” I said, my chest tightening just at the thought. That queen better not die, even if I wasn’t in her room at the time. I wasn’t the queen type. I wiped down Tyrrik’s arms and then went to the basin to rinse the cloth again. The blood settled to the bottom of the large bowl, leaving the water crystal clear. Heaving a sigh, I returned to the bed, but Dyter had taken my place. He held out his hand for the washrag and then said, “I know that. But, judging by the division of Phaetyn here, I’m not sure everyone else does.”
My legs turned to jelly, and I collapsed on the wooden floor with a thud. Resting my forehead on the bed frame, I mumbled, “I’m not the reason there’s a civil war out there, right? You think their problems started when we got here?”
When I looked up, Dyter was washing Tyrrik’s other arm.
“I’m pretty sure our arrival didn’t start anything, but your presence is definitely flaring tempers.”
“I never would have come here if I’d known,” I said.
“I doubt Kamoi would’ve brought you here if he’d known either.”
I craned my neck to study Dyter, watching the way the ropey scar on his face pulled when he pursed his lips and cleaned the Drae. “He didn’t know? I guess that makes sense.”
“I don’t believe he knew all the details of Queen Luna’s time in the emperor’s power, not enough to guess why you were Phaetyn and Drae as his parents immediately did. I was watching him as Alani spoke of that time . . . But he had to have guessed you had the ancestral power when you were able to get Tyrrik through the barrier. He made a point of mentioning that to his mother. That’s my guess, anyway.”
“Holy pancakes,” I groaned. “I can’t believe we’re in this mess.”
Dyter handed me the cloth, jerking his head at Tyrrik “I’m not doing his feet.”
I shrugged. “Neither am I. He’s unconscious; he can’t smell them.”
“I can, and they stink.” Dyter pointed at Tyrrik’s feet.
I glared at the old man and snatched the cloth, rinsing it once more. “You realize this Drae stole my dignity and hurt my feelings . . . really bad. I shouldn’t have to wash his feet; it’s demeaning. Sometimes I think you forget I’m no longer a farm girl.”
“Didn’t he wash your feet a few times in the dungeons? I don’t see why you wouldn’t return the favor.”
I stiffened but didn’t reply, avoiding Dyter’s gaze as I rinsed the cloth extra, extra well.
“Sorry, my girl, that slipped out. You know I didn’t mean to be cruel.”
Tears stung my eyes, and too many emotions to name squeezed at my heart. “No, I know,” I said hoarsely. “And you’re right, really. Tyr did; he did many times. He just . . . He also lied.”
“Aye, he did at that.” Dyter’s gaze rested on the unconscious Drae. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a slave for one hundred years?”
A tear fell, and I dashed it away. I was exhausted and overwhelmed, making me extra weepy, not to mention I had just learned a number of mind-boggling things about myself. “No.”
“I would think,” Dyter spoke as he took the cloth from me and began washing Tyrrik’s feet, “That I would hardly know myself after that. I would think remembering what my parents taught me at nine years old would be near impossible. I’d do whatever I could to be free, but I’m not sure I’d know how to be free either.”
I rinsed out the cloth for him and continued to listen as I watched Dyter wash the other foot.
“Rynnie, he should have only had thought for himself when he discovered you were Drae. But it sounds like his thoughts were mostly for you.”
“But, why, Dyter?” I whispered. “Why would he do that?”
“You can’t guess?”
I avoided his piercing gaze, changing the subject. “We’ve dragged him into the heart of enemy territory. We’ve got to leave.”
Dyter finished and stood with a weary moan. “What you said, in the queen’s chamber, about not knowing whether this realm was worth saving—”
“I said it was the right thing to do,” I snapped, defending myself.
“Aye, but knowing what is right and doing what is right are vastly different. You don’t know whether you want to go up against the emperor, and I can respect that even if I can’t understand it after what you’ve gone through. However,” he said, holding up his only hand to stop my interruption, “I told my king I’d do my best to form an alliance with the Phaetyn, and I mean to do just that. In the meantime, you have an opportunity to learn about your Phaetyn powers. I know this situation is uncomfortable, and if you didn’t hold a trump card, I wouldn’t suggest staying, but I feel we need to . . . for a little longer.” He dropped his hand and with his snarling smile said, “What do you think, ex-farm girl?”
What did I think? There was a deep calling inside me to be in the forest here. I was not beholden to these people, but my connection to Queen Luna, whether because I seemed to possess her power or because she’d helped to give me life, was undeniable. More than learning about my powers—or forming an alliance with these people—was the feeling that the trees had more to tell me, that they were desperate for my help.
And then there was the more tangible concern of Tyrrik.
; “We can stay until Tyrrik is better and then go,” I said, keeping my other agenda to myself. “You’re right. I may never get another chance to learn about the Phaetyn and my powers.” I’d rather give up pancakes for the rest of my life than come back at the rate things were going.
“We’re agreed then,” Dyter said.
“Yes, yes.” I waved a hand in the air. “But what’s our trump card?”
“Your trump card, my girl. This old man hasn’t got any cards at all.”
I rolled my eyes. “What’s my trump card then?”
He stretched out on the second bed in the room. Closing his eyes, he said, “If you have ancestral powers, you can put the barrier up.”
“So?” I glanced between the two beds, wondering where I factored in the sleeping situation.
Dyter cracked an eye open and then closed it again, grinning at the ceiling. “So, I’m guessing if you can put it up . . . you can also take it down.”
18
Warm heat cocooned me, and I snuggled closer to the source. My Phaetyn mojo must've kicked in overnight because my muscles were relaxed and my mind clear. I had a dream about being chased by Druman shortly after falling asleep, which nearly made me physically sick, but after my heart settled again, the rest of the night I’d slept amazing. I felt kind of great, considering yesterday involved slashing my hand open and dripping blood into a Drae’s open wound. Tyrrik’s arm fell to my side, and I snuggled closer.
Wait a minute.
My drowsiness disappeared in a flash, and my eyes popped open. Drak.
Maybe my mind wasn't so clear.
I looked across at the other bed, but it was empty. Dyter had folded his blanket and fluffed the pillow before leaving. I’d gone to sleep on the floor; that was a definite. I’d taken Tyrrik’s blanket, folded it up for a pillow, and fallen asleep on the ground.
Not in bed with Tyrrik.
Holy potato-stuffed pancakes.
The Drae mumbled in his sleep, his mouth against the nape of my neck, and his arms circled my waist, pulling me against him. My heart thumped and then began a race as if to pound out of my chest. Clearly my conscious and subconscious mind were not on the same page.