Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(42)

“I’d be worried if you did,” Dyter said.

He sighed, sitting heavily on the other bed. “I’d thought they would be more willing to help, judging by Kamoi’s eagerness to get us here.”

I dabbed at the black-and-blue blood spots caked on Tyrrik’s skin and studied his smooth face. Heavy despair settled over me, pulling my heartstrings with hopelessness. “They seem to hate us here. I don’t get it. Why was Kamoi so friendly to us?”

“You have no idea?”

Pausing in my ministrations, I lifted my head to study Dyter. He raised his eyebrows, and I asked, “What? You know why?”

Shaking his head, he leaned over to pull off his boots. When he sat back up, he gave me an exasperated look. “Rynnie, you need to start thinking of yourself as a power of this realm and not a farm girl.”

I snorted. “I was never much of a farm girl, anyway.”

“Fine,” he chuckled. “A soap girl.”

“Now soap I can help you with.”

We shared a brief grin.

Dyter drew closer, standing behind me, and together we leaned over Tyrrik’s face.

“You were able to bring Tyrrik inside the barrier when Kamoi was adamant a Drae couldn’t enter. And those moments you had with the trees earlier . . . you should’ve seen Kamoi’s face. The queen sent her son out of this place to find you, and I have a feeling these people don’t leave the forest lightly. Rynnie, what if you possess the ancestral powers needed to strengthen their barrier?” he asked in a low voice. “It would explain a lot.”

I dropped the wet cloth, hitting Tyrrik in the face, and quickly picked it up. “Drak.”

Dyter was right. Sending a prince to go locate a stray Phaetyn was going overboard. Had something happened when Luna poured her powers into my mother so I could live? My jaw dropped and a long moment passed before I stuttered, “I-I think you may be right.”

“Drak,” Dyter repeated. “And, unless I’m misunderstanding their hierarchy, the fact that you have ancestral powers poses a threat to the current queen’s rule. Possibly a serious threat.”

I dropped the wet cloth on the Drae’s face again, and this time, Dyter picked the washcloth up and rinsed the blood off in the basin. He handed the cloth back to me and pointed at Tyrrik’s blood-smeared arms.

“I’m not here to be their queen,” I said, my chest tightening just at the thought. That queen better not die, even if I wasn’t in her room at the time. I wasn’t the queen type. I wiped down Tyrrik’s arms and then went to the basin to rinse the cloth again. The blood settled to the bottom of the large bowl, leaving the water crystal clear. Heaving a sigh, I returned to the bed, but Dyter had taken my place. He held out his hand for the washrag and then said, “I know that. But, judging by the division of Phaetyn here, I’m not sure everyone else does.”

My legs turned to jelly, and I collapsed on the wooden floor with a thud. Resting my forehead on the bed frame, I mumbled, “I’m not the reason there’s a civil war out there, right? You think their problems started when we got here?”

When I looked up, Dyter was washing Tyrrik’s other arm.

“I’m pretty sure our arrival didn’t start anything, but your presence is definitely flaring tempers.”

“I never would have come here if I’d known,” I said.

“I doubt Kamoi would’ve brought you here if he’d known either.”

I craned my neck to study Dyter, watching the way the ropey scar on his face pulled when he pursed his lips and cleaned the Drae. “He didn’t know? I guess that makes sense.”

“I don’t believe he knew all the details of Queen Luna’s time in the emperor’s power, not enough to guess why you were Phaetyn and Drae as his parents immediately did. I was watching him as Alani spoke of that time . . . But he had to have guessed you had the ancestral power when you were able to get Tyrrik through the barrier. He made a point of mentioning that to his mother. That’s my guess, anyway.”

“Holy pancakes,” I groaned. “I can’t believe we’re in this mess.”

Dyter handed me the cloth, jerking his head at Tyrrik “I’m not doing his feet.”

I shrugged. “Neither am I. He’s unconscious; he can’t smell them.”

“I can, and they stink.” Dyter pointed at Tyrrik’s feet.

I glared at the old man and snatched the cloth, rinsing it once more. “You realize this Drae stole my dignity and hurt my feelings . . . really bad. I shouldn’t have to wash his feet; it’s demeaning. Sometimes I think you forget I’m no longer a farm girl.”

“Didn’t he wash your feet a few times in the dungeons? I don’t see why you wouldn’t return the favor.”

I stiffened but didn’t reply, avoiding Dyter’s gaze as I rinsed the cloth extra, extra well.

“Sorry, my girl, that slipped out. You know I didn’t mean to be cruel.”

Tears stung my eyes, and too many emotions to name squeezed at my heart. “No, I know,” I said hoarsely. “And you’re right, really. Tyr did; he did many times. He just . . . He also lied.”

“Aye, he did at that.” Dyter’s gaze rested on the unconscious Drae. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a slave for one hundred years?”