Shadow Wings_The Darkest Drae [Book 2] Page 4

  This light game wasn’t light anymore. While he was happy to chatter about his mum and dad, I didn’t need the reminders of what I’d lost.

  “And anyone can see that he is kind and clearly cares about—”

  “Stop apologizing, and move on,” Tyrrik said as he approached.

  I wasn’t going to admit it, but Tyrrik had impeccable timing. I took the moment he offered to try and get a handle on the swift anger which had risen unchecked inside me.

  The fair Phaetyn straightened, but before he could continue his apology, Dyter interjected.

  “Prince Kamoi, I was wondering if you would spare a few minutes for me. I have several questions about Zivost and your customs. Would you mind?”

  The prince bowed to me and then rode toward Dyter. I glared at Tyrrik. “I was going to handle it.”

  He quirked a brow. “I could see. But we need Prince Kamoi alive to get into Zivost. And then you will need someone to train you there. Neither of those things would happen if you killed him.”

  “I was not going to kill him,” I ground out. Hit him, possibly, but that wouldn’t kill him. I needed to get a grip.

  “Of course not,” Tyrrik replied. He studied me and then continued in a subdued tone, “It is not a weakness to call a halt. A little time off your mount would allow your powers to heal you.”

  I shook my head. I was tired of being the weak one. Tired of being broken. Tired of it all. “I’m fine. We need to keep going to get us to Zivost as fast as possible.”

  Tyrrik glanced over at Dyter and the Phaetyn and muttered, “This is ridiculous.”

  The Drae glanced at our horses with a grimace and then longingly at the sky.

  It didn’t take a genius to interpret his look, and I would never want to admit Tyrrik could help, but really . . . Why ride a horse when Tyrrik could just fly us wherever we needed to go? I caught another shared look between the three of them and narrowed my eyes.

  “What are you hiding?” I asked softly when they shared yet another quick look. A fist-sized rock landed in my gut. Tyrrik was keeping something from me, again, just like in the castle. They all were.

  Tyrrik glanced up, expression smoothing into blank lines, manipulative lines, and my simmering anger exploded into a full-boil. “Don’t you dare!”

  I reached to Tyrrik, grabbing a fistful of his black aketon, and pulled him to me. “Don’t you dare keep secrets from me again. Don’t you dare!”

  5

  One moment I was upright in my saddle, and the next, I was tangled in my stirrups, pulling Tyrrik from his horse. I landed on the hard rocky ground, and Tyrrik somehow landed on his feet like some kind of cat. Stupid Drae. I screamed at him from the ground as the horse dragged my sorry butt along the uneven path, stopping only to munch on a patch of grass. I kicked, trying to pull my foot from the stirrup.

  “Stupid horse,” I shouted. “Stupid Drae. Stupid world!”

  “My lady,” the prince cried, bounding from his horse in a graceful arc to help me.

  Suddenly, my horse was still. I crossed my arms, staring at the sky as Tyrrik extracted my foot, and didn’t say a word.

  “Oh, dear lady,” Kamoi said.

  “My name is Ryn,” I sighed. “Stop it with the lady this, lady that, please.”

  I tore my gaze away from the prince to look at Tyrrik and got a glimpse of his backside. It would’ve been a more pleasant view if his aketon wasn’t so long.

  I froze at the errant thought and furiously scrubbed my mind clean of the sentiment. Bad Ryn! I heaved a sigh and sat. “I’m fine. Just give me a minute.”

  Tyrrik turned and extended his hand to me. His bare hand.

  I reached out, hesitating inches from his palm. Would he shut me out, or would I get some cryptic message when our skin touched? Part of me wanted to yell at him. But if he, Dyter, and the Phaetyn prince were all in on a secret, it wasn’t just Tyrrik I was pissed at.

  I grabbed Tyrrik’s hand, but he blocked me from his mind as he pulled me to my feet. You better not be keeping secrets from me, I blasted at him.

  What if it’s not what you think? he immediately replied.

  “I don’t care,” I snapped. I turned to Dyter and Kamoi. “I’m done with secrets. If you want me to get behind this quest, or whatever you want to call it, you’d better start telling me what the hay is going on. You want me to train, you want me to save the land, you want me to help you fight the emperor, but you tell me nothing? I’m walking away right now unless you tell me everything. I’m one hundred percent, I-will-never-speak-to-you-again serious.”

  I stomped over to the Phaetyn prince. “If you know something about my powers, you should be telling me, not keeping it secret.”

  I turned to Dyter. “I’ve trusted you my entire life. I never once betrayed you while Jotun tortured me. Not once. The least you could do is prepare me for any more surprises. And don’t yell at me when I need a minute to decompress. If I want to serve ale, let me serve ale for a day.”

  I turned to Tyrrik, but my words dried up in my parched mouth. I hated him for lying to me. I hated myself because although I hated him, I felt safest when he was near. My head was messed up, and though the abuse I’d suffered wasn’t all his fault, so much of my distrust of the world was.

  “If you ever want me to trust you, ever, you need to stop hiding things from me. Stop omitting details. Stop passively letting me come to the wrong conclusion. If you want my trust, you need to stop doing what you’re doing.” I pointed at Dyter and the prince. “If the three of you know something I don’t, you better start showing some modicum of confidence in me and some respect for what I’ve been through, or I’m leaving right now, and I’m not coming back.”

  Tyrrik’s eyes darkened until they were all black. His skin rippled but soon stilled. His gaze went over my head to Dyter. “You’d better ride as fast as you can. We’ll spend two days in the caves and then come find you.”

  The Phaetyn prince asked, “Do you think that’s wise? She’s still part Phaetyn. I can see it even now on the cusp of her change.”

  Dyter sighed, and I turned to see him rubbing his bald head, his shoulders sagging. When he looked up, he offered me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Rynnie. I only wanted to spare you a little longer. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  It felt like he’d scooped my heart out. “Spare me what?”

  Dyter pointed to Tyrrik. “I’ll let him tell you.”

  My head spun as Dyter and Kamoi rearranged the packs and said their goodbyes to Tyrrik and me, but I didn’t really hear them. After they were gone, I turned to Tyrrik. “What is it then?”

  He shook his head. “Not here.”

  I glared at him. Again. “What do you mean not here? That’s not how this works. Did you hear a single word I said?”

  “Yes, I heard.” He was suddenly before me.

  “I’m not leaving this spot until you tell me.”

  Tyrrik blurred and brought his lips close enough to brush my ear as he whispered, “If we don’t get to the caves before you change, you will have more to worry about than what secrets I might have. We can talk while we ride.”

  His warm breath sent shivers down my spine, and a current of energy pulsated between us. I swallowed, pushing down the desire to turn toward him. Instead, I batted him away. “Why did you have to whisper that in my ear?”

  His gaze dipped to my lips. “No secret on that, Ryn. I wanted to be close to you.”

  “That’s . . . not allowed,” I finished lamely. “And I’m not falling for it. Tell me now, Tyrrik, or go away. I can’t be bothered with your tricks anymore.”

  “You’re sure you wish to know?”

  I closed my eyes, waiting. I was pretty sure at this point nothing he could say would surprise me.

  “I would’ve waited until you had the privacy of a cave, but I suppose you’ll know soon enough anyway.” Warmth touched my body as the Drae stepped closer. “You are the Emperor’s daughter.”

  I snorted and waited
.

  “I’m telling the truth.”

  I opened my eyes and stared at him. “Wash your mouth out.”

  “What?” Tyrrik asked, concern in his eyes. Probably for my mental state because that sure was under pressure at the moment.

  I choked out the words. “You’re not serious?”

  “I never joke when it comes to you.”

  Or joke in general. “I don’t understand . . . How? You said the emperor didn’t have a mate, and that Drae can only . . . procreate with their mate.” I pulled up short as I recalled something else the Drae said not many days before about the ‘emperor’s experiments.’

  Tyrrik nodded, but his attention was fixed on the sky. “I will answer your questions. All of them. But you must listen to me. When you transform the first time, you are vulnerable. We need to get to the caves so we are hidden.”

  Sure. Right. I’ll just put aside that startling bit of news and go about my merry way to the caves so I can turn into a Drae. Surprisingly, I did just that, turning toward my horse. “Do I have to get back on my horse?”

  I was not looking forward to riding that animal again. What I wanted to do was ask Tyrrik to change into his Drae form and fly us to wherever we were going.

  “No,” he said, mounting his own horse. “But I won’t risk changing unless I have to. I’m sure Emperor Draedyn has sent more Druman, and he might be patrolling this area himself for all I know. For now, we ride.”

  “I thought you said I didn’t have to get on the horse.” I put my hands on my hips in protest.

  “No, Khosana. I said you don’t have to get on your horse.” He held out his hand. “We need to be quick, and you’re tired.”

  I shook my head. Being near him messed with me, and my head and my heart didn’t need any more strain. “I’ll ride my own horse. You just want to touch me.”

  His features softened, but he shook his head. “We don’t have time to go at your pace. If we make it, it’ll be just in time. Your energy is all over the place, and I don’t want to risk a talon to the eye if I don’t have to. The sun has already started its descent, so you’ll be feeling night’s call soon, if you’re not already.”

  Tyrrik was right; I could feel something deep inside me sending tentative tendrils out. Something huge slowly unfurling from within, raising its head in anticipation.

  I didn’t want to transform here. I accepted the Drae’s hand, and he pulled me up in front of him.

  “And I always want to touch you,” he whispered in my ear.

  With a click of his tongue, we were off. If not for Tyrrik’s iron-hold around my waist, I would’ve toppled from the horse.

  “How far until the cave?” I asked, clinging to the front of the saddle.

  “Several hours,” he answered.

  I barraged him with questions for the first hour, and he patiently gave me my answers, most of which I wanted to forget as soon as I’d heard them. Because the emperor was my father, he would be able to sense me every time I shifted into my Drae form. He might even be able to read my mind like Tyrrik could when we touched. And after Tyrrik’s little fire in Verald, resulting in three less Druman, the emperor would likely send out more of his mules.

  I wasn’t sure how long had gone by when the night’s call Tyrrik had described began to override everything else. My muscles spasmed, contracting and stretching with flashing bolts of agony. My body seized and shook, and I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out. My body alternated between searing pain and extreme fatigue, the cycle shortening as the night approached. I shuddered and gasped, “Am I going to give birth?”

  Tyrrik’s response was to tighten his arm around my waist, tuck my head in the hollow of his neck, and urge the horse faster. Before the pain began, I’d done my best to make sure our skin did not touch. I’d kept my sleeves pulled up over my hands. I’d sat straight in the saddle, determined not to lean on him, but I was far beyond that now. King Irdelron himself might’ve sat behind me, and I’d still be a whimpering sack of potatoes.

  Another wave hit me. I bit down on my lip to stop from screaming but couldn’t help arching in the saddle, going taut with the throbbing pain.

  We veered off the path toward the base of a mountain range.

  “Not long now, moje láska.”

  I hung onto his voice like a lifeline. As the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky, the tendrils of night reached out for me, singing to me, inviting me toward them. I’d longed for the touch of darkness for months, but now it was an endless chasm of blackness that wanted to trap me inside, just like the dungeon. I’d never get out. “Tyrrik.” My voice was thick and heavy. “The night wants me. It won’t let me go.”

  “No, Khosana. You belong to the night, and the night belongs to you.”

  “Scales!” I hissed, as they appeared on my hands. A sharp stinging sensation crawled over my skin, like needles were scratching me raw. I cried out, clutching the sides of my neck as the pain crept upward. More of the lapis lazuli pieces appeared, and I whimpered. What if they never went away?

  Tyrrik whispered encouragement in my ear, the words of a language I was only beginning to understand.

  My muscles cramped more and more. A dull pressure in my chest expanded until it felt as though the Jotun of my nightmares was sitting on my heart. Sharp, stabbing pains rippled over my body, and as the sun kissed the horizon, my hold broke. I screamed, the sound piercing the twilight, terror-filled and yearning at the same time.

  Tyrrik pressed his lips to my neck, to my scaled neck, speaking in my mind. The first time is the hardest. You are strong, Ryn, plenty strong. Just hold on.

  He drove the horse to go faster, faster, faster.

  My vision blurred, bright blue-and-green colors shattered and splintered amidst the darkness swirling around us. My body seized, and the pressure built inside me. I tipped my head back against Tyrrik’s shoulder and screamed through my raw throat as the pressure exploded. Pain overwhelmed me, and the darkness coiled and wound unabated around my body. Blue tendrils unfurled, expanding as the ache deep within my bones flared.

  Tyrrik’s shouted cursing was the only sound surrounding me as he pulled me from where I sat. But I never hit the ground. Instead, I floated high above, staring up at the silky night with unblinking eyes.

  Night had fallen.

  6

  I groaned. Every single part of me ached, and I wondered why my Phaetyn powers hadn’t healed me. Rolling onto my back, I hissed in pain and tried to heave myself back on my side. Large warm hands helped me turn, and I forced my eyelids apart. A distant part of me couldn’t believe I’d managed to drift off—though it was more likely I’d passed out from exhaustion at some point during the night.

  Tyrrik scooped his arm under my shoulders and lifted me upright until I was sitting. My head swam, and I clutched the neck of his aketon to steady myself. “Dizzy.”

  He held still until I nodded then reached behind me to grab something. The sweet smell of nectar floated to me as the Drae held a goblet to my lips.

  “Thanks,” I rasped. I took a long draught, and the nectar soothed the ragged edges of pain from the inside of my throat. But as soon as Tyrrik withdrew the chalice, I stammered, “M-more.”

  He obliged, filling the shiny stemware and giving it back to me. I took another long drink, although this one was more to avoid talking about what happened last night. That Tyrrik saw me as a screaming, blubbering, contorting mess deeply embarrassed me. I was inordinately grateful that he had been here. He’d said I’d need help, and as I thought of the hourly baths he’d given me in the pool of nectar and the words of encouragement through the night, I no longer doubted this fact.

  His dark hair was disheveled, and his cheeks and chin dusted with a day’s worth of growth. Darkness clung to him, like wisps of spider’s webs, his black aketon was rumpled, and he offered a wan smile.

  “You look as bad as I feel,” I said, breaking the silence. The black threads seemed to be emanating from within him, and when I blinked
, they faded. Even my eyes were exhausted.

  He huffed, a mannerism that would look less odd in his Drae form. “It is not easy to watch someone go through that,” he said. “I have never cared for another Drae during their transformation before.”

  “You did a stellar job,” I mumbled. My pitiful gratitude was lost as the buzz of languid fatigue spread through me, and I closed my eyes and leaned into him. I could probably sleep for a week.

  “Your transformation seemed worse than I remembered.”

  “Because I’m part Phaetyn, do you think?” I asked, my eyes opening a crack before floating closed. “It was pretty horrible.” And didn’t compare to the torture sessions with Jotun; this pain had a reward at the end—it wasn’t meaningless pain meant to break me but pain resulting from something I hoped would make me stronger. A thrill of excitement vibrated through my chest and out to my extremities. I could feel the new strength in my fingers, in my body, even as weary as I was. Aside from that, I seemed pretty much the same as I’d been, though this was coupled by a knowledge that my skin would be impenetrable to weapons, even those dipped in Phaetyn blood—or so I assumed. I blinked my eyes open again, and testing my sense of smell, I inhaled deeply . . .

  And stiffened.

  My mouth watered, and I slapped a hand over my lips before any of my saliva spilled out. My cheeks heated, and I dropped my gaze and yelped when I saw thread-like energy in vibrant blue and green coming from my core. I blinked again, and the wisps of color disappeared, but the captivating scent did not.

  “What is it?” Tyrrik rumbled beside me, his breath washing over me.

  What is it? I swallowed. Tyrrik smelled freaking incredible is what. I took another deep breath and let the scent wash over me. Like pine needles and smoke and leather. Slap me with a pancake and call me a potato! I could exist on that smell alone. I loved it so much I could roll around in it, lick it up like syrup, I could . . . I blinked through the sudden fog of desire surrounding me. “N-nothing?”

  “Ryn,” Tyrrik said through clenched teeth, backing away from me. “You need to rein it in.” His nostrils flared.