Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(17)

I strode through the main chamber, past the pool of nectar, and stopped. I glanced around the space but couldn’t find the goblet Tyrrik used last night. He probably hid it, not that I blamed him. If I remembered correctly, it was gold and encrusted with gems, the perfect chalice for nectar. A perfect addition to, what would be, a glorious horde.

I knelt, feeling the weariness in my body. I dipped my hand into the cool liquid, thinking of how he’d held me in the pool of nectar during my transformation. If I was this tired, Tyrrik must be tired, too. He couldn’t have rested that much in the last two days, and he had expended a lot of energy on my behalf. If I knew how, I’d do something nice for him. Bringing my hand to my mouth, I slurped the sweet goodness eagerly and choked in surprise, sputtering as my taste buds identified water instead of nectar. I was certain I drank several cups full of nectar from the pool last night, and Tyrrik brought me some earlier today. There wasn’t another pool, was there?

I stood and glanced around the chamber, but there was no other pool in sight. Perplexed, I called out for my only source of information. “Tyrrik?”

I turned back toward the front of the cave as he stepped into the darkness. My gaze went to the stemmed goblet in his hand. The bejeweled golden goblet, the cup of my dreams. If I got him to hand it over, I wondered if he’d let me keep it. Or maybe I could steal it while he slept. Would he notice? My covetous thoughts made me stop. What the hay is wrong with me? I’d never been envious of people’s wealth before. I’d never been a thief either.

But he kind of owes me.

“Do you need a drink?” he asked, his voice rumbling through the darkness.

“Do you have any nectar?” I asked. “Somehow the pool turned to water. I swear it was nectar before.” Not that I minded water, but I’d much rather have nectar.

If I hadn’t been watching Tyrrik, I would’ve missed his eyes widening as he inhaled.

“Has it never done that to you before? Did I mess something up?” Drak. “Was it my Phaetyn powers?”

That would be just my luck. I was bad at shifting, and now I’d messed with the nectar in the cave.

Tyrrik shook his head, another dubious non-answer. He went to the pool, dipped the cup in, and then took a sip. After swallowing, he asked, “Did you put your hand in there?”

How would that matter? Last night we’d both been lying in it. Or was he implying he was the magic behind the cave nectar, and I’d messed it up by putting my hand in the water? “Yes,” I said, drawing the single syllable out. “Because you had the only cup . . .”

He took another drink, tilting it up until it was almost gone.

“Hey,” I complained, “I want some. Why are you drinking it all?”

He finished his gluttonous chugging of the fluid and said nothing as he dipped the cup back into the pool and brought it to me.

I took a sip and narrowed my eyes at the lingering sweetness on my tongue. “It was water before,” I insisted before draining the goblet. I held the beautiful treasure, but my gaze went to the pool. “If I go over there and dip this in, am I going to ruin it again?”

Tyrrik studied me with pursed lips.

We were back to that again. “You know, I’m pretty much over the whole let’s-keep-secrets-from-Ryn thing. In fact, I think I was really clear yesterday.” Was that only yesterday? “About how I felt. We had a good day today, as far as trust goes, up until now—”

Tyrrik took the goblet from my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. With a gentle tug, he led me to the pool. “It has to do with our kind. How our males and females balance each other’s powers. I can’t make vy?iva, what you call nectar, for myself; no Drae can. This pool is water until one of us makes nectar for the other.”

“You’ve been making it for me this whole time?” I waited for his nod. “How do you do it?”

A teasing gleam entered his eyes as he waved a finger in the air. “I will it, knowing it will help you heal and replenish your energy. It’s just a matter of wanting that.”

“For another Drae,” I ventured slowly.

He paused before giving a quick jerk of his head.

“So we’re dependent on each other for nectar?” I asked. My thoughts, however, weren’t on how I could never make nectar for myself. All I could think was Tyrrik wouldn’t have had any since his enslavement to Irdelron. I also wasn’t sure I wanted to make it for him. It seemed . . . personal. Too personal.

A slow smile spread across the Drae’s face, his dark eyes lighting. “We’re interdependent.”

He let go of my hand and knelt at the edge of the pool. He dipped the cup into the water, took a sip, and then handed it to me. “More?” It’s an honor to serve you nectar.

My eyes widened at the errant thought, and I hurried to school my features, certain I hadn’t been meant to hear it. I took the goblet, and blinked at the deep sincerity I felt from him as our skin touched. I gulped the nectar to cover the moment, and the sweet drink soothed my throat and nerves, then my aching muscles.

I drank every last drop, even licking the rim.

With a totally straight face, Tyrrik said, “I guess this means you like my nectar.”

I blanched. “You did not just say that.”

Tyrrik cracked a joke? Was the world ending? I thought back to my fake dungeon buddy, Ty, and his funny quips when we were in the dungeon. I supposed Ty was Tyrrik, so . . . It took a few moments for my head to wrap around my altered perspective of the Drae—all the funny quips really came from Tyrrik. If I hadn’t known Ty, fake as he’d been, I would’ve never known Tyrrik had a sense of humor.