Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(12)

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.