Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(5)

The illusion I’d built of returning to my normalcy ran away with the patrons. I wanted to cry, scream, and run away, too. I wanted to scream and never stop screaming, but I shoved the emotion away, refusing to let it take hold of me. Standing next to Dyter, I stared after the crowd of humans fleeing. “I didn’t know Seryt could run that fast.”

Hearing a scratching sound, I turned to see Dyter rubbing his chin. “He’s in front of all the young’uns,” he said. “Impressive.”

Within seconds, the space was empty and the only ‘people’ remaining were the three Druman, the stunning man with silver hair, and the three of us.

Tyrrik stood over me, still in his Drae form, and puffed out a small jet of flame. The molten heat landed just in front of the three Druman before angling up.

A cloud of smoke appeared. I coughed, waving my hand to clear the air, and my jaw dropped.

“Where’d they go?” I went to stand where the three large men had been.

“Look down, Rynnie,” Dyter said drily.

I glanced down and saw I stood in the middle of three piles of ash. I swallowed and, with my voice shaking, said, “You could’ve warned me.” Not so long ago, it hadn’t been Druman being burned to white ash; it had been two hundred rebels who had come to save me.

I swallowed again and stepped out of the Druman remains, avoiding Tyrrik’s gaze.

Dyter was eyeing the stunning man with pointy ears. I turned to study him and found I couldn’t really blame Dyter’s blatant interest; I wanted to keep looking, too. The stranger wore hugging brown breeches and a loose forest-green tunic ornamented with golden buttons down the front. The curved top of his chest muscles peeked through the open neck of the tunic, and I cataloged the sight. A leather belt with two sheathed daggers hung around his hips. Another loop of leather was slung across his torso, holding three more daggers. I should have been scared of the newcomer, but I couldn’t figure out how to connect with my emotions after I’d just banished most of them. I was curious, so maybe that was something.

A growl filled Tyrrik’s chest as I continued to look my fill.

Rather than being put off by the ginormous Drae at my back—when had I stopped being afraid of that, by the way—the stranger pulled his dagger again, stepped forward, and balanced it on the pad of his finger.

I watched the action, certain if I could learn that one trick, I wouldn’t need to actually learn to fight with a dagger. It’d be a great bluff.

The air shimmered, warmth flowing over me as Tyrrik shifted back.

I refused to look at the Drae even though his presence assured my safety from the strangers in the tavern. Instead, I folded my arms and asked Pointy Ears, “Who’re you?”

The man sheathed his dagger and extended his hand. “I am named Kamoi.”

Something about the man called to me, and without conscious thought, despite the fact that physical touch with anyone but Dyter had given me a sensation of bugs under my skin for the last three days, I clasped his hand. I gasped as I stared into his eyes for the first time. Violet. The area where our hands touched flared, and a smoldering heat swept through me.

“You’re Phaetyn?” I whispered, continuing to hold his hand though I knew the hand shake had officially gone on too long.

“The rumors are true,” he said as he bowed over my hand. “My lady, I am glad to find you, another Phaetyn.”

Unease crawled over me with his words where his touch hadn’t bothered me. I couldn’t help where my mind went. I formed the words with a thick tongue. “We’re the only two left?”

A teasing light entered his eyes. “No, my Lady. I am merely one of our kind. I am the Prince of the Phaetyn.”





3





“I . . .” I inhaled sharply. “I thought I was the only Phaetyn left.”

Tyrrik spoke from behind me. “The only one in Verald.”

“You knew?” Dropping Kamoi’s hand, I threw the accusation at Tyrrik. There were other Phaetyn, and he’d kept that from me? I wondered what else he knew that I didn’t, and a seriously long list of questions ticked through my mind. “How did you fail to mention that?”

“I’m fairly certain, I told you to go to Zivost when I tried to help you escape the dungeons.” He tilted his head at me, and continued in a dry voice, “And somehow, the Phaetyn didn’t come up again in the last three days when you were pretending I didn’t exist.”

I cleared my throat, refusing to dignify that with an answer.

The stunning Prince of the Phaetyn peered past me, and I felt the heat at my back increase as Tyrrik neared. The Drae stood just behind me, and I shot a look at Dyter who wiped the smirk off his face in a flash.

“The emperor would have felt his three Druman dying just now,” the prince said. “You’ve just alerted him that things here may not be as calm as they were.”

Tyrrik nodded. “Better that than having them carry back reports of what they saw here, or what they would certainly discover here in Verald. Even worse would be if they followed us on our journey.”

“I thought you couldn’t kill Drae,” Dyter said, joining the small semi-circle outside his sister’s ruined tavern.

The old coot hadn’t said a single thing about The Raven’s Hollow being ruined. Dyrell wasn’t even my sister, and I was pissed.