Blood Oath (The Darkest Drae Book 1)(44)

Ty was part of the rebellion?

“There is a man here in Harvest Zone Seven. One who holds a similar position to me, or the position I used to hold. If I could get a message to him, I know Cal would send a team to save us.”

“Against the king’s guard and a Drae?” I asked doubtfully.

“For a Phaetyn? Yes. I am categorically sure.”

“I worked for Dyter,” I admitted.

“You know him?”

“I do.” What’s more, if Dyter was still alive, I knew someone who might be able to get a message to him. But was he alive? For sure, he’d been captured if Irrik had followed us home from The Crane’s Nest. “I might have a way to get a message to Dyter.” Maybe Tyr could go.

All I could hear was Ty’s raspy breathing on the other side. “Tell your messenger to get Dyter to pass this information to Cal: If the rebellion can kill King Irdelron, they’ll free Lord Irrik from his oath. The oath is the only thing binding Irrik to Irdelron’s will. Without it, Irrik won’t stand in their way. He may even join them.”

That would shift the balance of power. “How do you know that?”

“My ancestors lived by the Drakonia desert. We knew a lot about the Drae, even their blood oaths. I’ve been a prisoner in this castle long enough to pick up certain things. Irrik hates Irdelron. He doesn’t want to be bound to him. Trust me.”

Before any of this happened, I wouldn’t have believed Ty. Now, I’d seen enough to wonder if he was right.





19





Despite my fatigue, sleep refused to wrap my weary mind in its repose. Ty and I said our goodbyes with plans for me to make contact with Dyter. Silence fell between us after that. I ached to escape into the repose of slumber. I was bone tired, but my mind wouldn’t rest.

I was on the edge of the precipice of why. I yearned to understand why Mum had been killed. Why I’d been brought here. And how the puzzle pieces fit together. Yet I was unfailingly sure there was no way to achieve this understanding without losing a piece of myself, or learning something I’d later wish to unlearn. Namely, that my mother was not who I thought. That she’d lied to me my whole life about who and what I was. That she’d made me feel inadequate under the guise of keeping me safe.

For hours, I stared at the crumbling ceiling, listening to the drip down the hallway and wondering when the hurt would stop, or if it would eventually kill me. My cup was full, and one more drop would see it overflow—losing Tyr, having my hope dashed, calling to Ty to find him no longer there.

Where would the last drop come from?

The clank of a key in the lock announced the arrival of a visitor. I was safe, if only because the king had bound the Drae to make it so. I yearned for familiar arms and a familiar smile. Even if it was wrong, I wanted Tyr.

As if he’d heard my call, Tyr glided through the darkness and into my cell.

I rolled to sitting, my heart pounding with emotion I had yet to name.

He knelt next to me, and for a moment I stared at the familiar slope of his shoulders, the curve of his jaw, and my gaze flitted to the bow of his lips. I reached for him.

He didn’t ask questions but simply pulled me into his arms and held me close, pressing his warm cheek to mine. Any touching between us in the past occurred after my torture sessions, when I was physically and mentally exhausted, not before. Tyr’s kindness had always been a comfort or boon of compassion.

This . . . was different. Like the hug of a friend. But when I thought of hugging Arnik, it was nothing like this.

I heard what happened, his voice echoed in my mind, rough with emotion. I’m sorry.

His words carried a weight of meaning. Until then, I hadn’t even thought about his involvement. He had to have known to have been so meticulous about cleaning up my blood.

“You knew?” I asked in a whisper. Confusion plagued me as I tried to understand. And then the answer occurred to me. “Irrik was sending you.”

The Drae was the only person who’d known before.

He pulled back, and not for the first time I longed to see his eyes. To see into those depths, I was certain, would mean I’d get a glimpse of his soul.

At first, it was by Irrik’s order. Then, I saw your strength.

Tyr touched my face, and my skin warmed under his fingertips, his hands were ungloved for once. My eyes fell to his lips, and I shook off the direction of my thoughts, though my heart still thumped against my ribs, eager to escape.

“And now?” I asked, glancing into the darkness shrouding the area above his mouth.

He rested his hands on my shoulders. I come because I need to.

The air between us tightened, and I inhaled his scent, a combination of sandalwood and something more. He drew closer, and there was no trace of a smile on his face.

Did he watch me from the depths of his hood? Did he look at me with the same wonder I now felt?

“Tyr,” I said after a beat. “What’s happening?”

The loaded question was not just referring to my bad situation. Something in our dynamic was shifting, and I was uncertain if this was me or him or us. Did I want it to be us?

He looked at me, head tilted in silent question. His hands slid down my arms, and he entwined his fingers with mine.

“Do you . . .?” My insides quailed, the questions battering at me from within. What if he didn’t feel the same? I chickened out, choosing the easier option. “I might have found a way to get out.”