Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(28)

“Nothing,” he answered. “I’m just exhausted. I-I . . . It’s going to take me a little time to heal.” He grimaced. “A long time, judging by how I feel. I’ve never been injured this badly.”

I shook my head. “We can’t stay here for a long time. We need to meet Dyter and . . .” What was his name? “The Phaetyn guy.”

Tyrrik quirked an eyebrow, drawing a reluctant smile out of me.

“What can I do to help you heal?” My feelings for Tyrrik were a tangled mess, and seeing as I’d only admitted there was a tangled mess, I wasn’t yet sure I wanted to sort those feelings out. My chest clenched as I recalled the rock splicing through his right shoulder.

He sighed. “Kissing me might help.”

My heart thumped in my chest, and I blinked. “Are you serious?”

The prospect excited me more than it should, though witnessing Tyrrik nearly die had brought more dread than I’d expected too. I scowled as a smirk lifted the corner of his full mouth.

He reached into his pocket and drew out the ruby, extending the gem toward me as he said, “You shifted.”

“I also lost control.” I felt guilty, but I also really wanted the pretty gem. I accepted it with a smile, and tucked the ruby next to the gold trinket in my tunic. A deal was a deal.

“You earned it.” He groaned and lay flat on the rocky ground.

The first moment I got, I was going to inspect my shiny objects side by side, but for now . . . “Tyrrik, seriously, what do you need? I want to help.”

He said with a sigh, “I need to eat and sleep. I’m whole; you healed me. But I need to regain stamina.”

“What if I get some water? Will you teach me how to make nectar? Would that help?”

He blinked, and his nervousness coursed through our bond. “Yes. That would help. But I don’t have a water skin.”

I grinned and held up the empty one he’d given me before we took off. “Good thing I have mine. Just point me in the direction of water and Ryn the . . .” I wasn’t useless any more. I was . . . “Fearless shall provide.”

“Ryn the Fearless has forgotten about her new Drae senses,” he drawled, tapping his nose.

Oh, yeah. I tilted my head back, feeling the ripple of my silver hair down my back, closed my eyes, and sniffed. No good. My attention was too divided. I let the chirping and chittering of the small animals in the surrounding area fade and forced myself to tune out Tyrrik’s quickened breathing too. Water, water, water.

I sniffed again and pulled in a long inhale. Now that my other senses were muted, I focused on the scents assailing me. Tyrrik’s pine needle, smoke, and steel aroma overwhelmed everything else.

Hot potatoes, he smelled so good. I opened my eyes and glared at him, clambering to my feet. “I can’t smell anything with you near.”

He lifted his head and peeled his eyelids back for a brief moment. With a small smile, he asked, “Why are you still sniffing then?”

I caught myself mid-inhale. Because you smell amazing. There was no way I was going to tell him that. Oh wait, maybe I just did. Drak. “Umm,” I mumbled, trying to cover my thoughts. “Allergies.”

He snorted as he shifted on the shale, obviously not believing my lie.

As he closed his eyes, Tyrrik murmured, “Right.”

I didn’t bother responding. I turned my attention to the ground and wobbled off down the row of sharp pikes. As I got farther away from the deadly rocks, I noticed the spikes extended all around the forest in a wide, sharp band, creating a deadly barrier.

“I don’t think they want visitors,” I mumbled to myself. Clearly, the Phaetyn weren’t the welcoming type Kamoi portrayed them to be. Still, with someone like Emperor Draedyn around, I couldn’t blame them.

About a hundred paces away from the Drae, I closed my eyes. Pushing away the constant barrage of information from my skin, ears, and eyes, I inhaled again. Sorting through the smells away from Tyrrik proved much easier, and the crisp, clear scent of water sang to me.

“There’s water just over that way,” I shouted back to him, pointing away from the wall of death.

He called in a dry voice that barely reached me, despite my super sensitive hearing, “I know.”

I wrinkled my nose but said nothing. Sure, he’d known, and I was an egg with five yolks. I’d ignore his haughty attitude and lack of gratitude. Being Ryn the Fearless also meant being the bigger person. I could give the win to others on occasion—I could be gracious. I took another deep breath as I trudged over the rocks like a lumbering mule. Life as a hero wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, but I could roll.

Setting out in the opposite direction to the forest and its morbid welcoming mat, I walked, swinging the empty skin, and my weary muscles slowly released their tension and woke up. As I continued picking through the rocks, my stiffness disappeared, and my usual energy emerged. I recovered enough that I stopped walking like I was riding a horse, too, so everything was on the up and up. I glanced back at Tyrrik. He was still lying right where I’d left him, looking pretty much dead.

“Good, good.” I gave myself an inane pep talk, not believing a word of it.

I rounded a mound of large boulders, and the pointy rocks and lush forest were lost from view. My ears twitched at the faint trickle of water ahead. I sniffed, and my mouth watered. Oh yeah, there was water ahead, and for some reason it smelled really good.