Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(53)

I slapped his hand away, refusing to give in to his Phaetyn hotness. “Why do people think we’re going to bind?”

His smile dropped, and pink crept up his jaw.

“Yes, I heard about that,” I continued, warming up. “Don’t spread rumors about me. There is no us. And the fact you did that, without declaring your intentions to me to begin with, makes me furious. You have no idea how mortifying it is to have people ask me questions about us. I was embarrassed when I heard.”

He’d become progressively smaller during my rant, and his cheeks burned under my blazing glare.

He placed a hand over his heart. “You have my sincerest apology, Ryn. You are entirely, profoundly correct; I should have declared my intentions. My only defense is you are both beautiful and powerful, and I found myself at a loss as to how to broach this with you. Especially being in our current situation.”

Heat entered my cheeks at his compliment, though I wasn’t sure I wholly believed him. “You should have kept it to yourself until we’d spoken.”

His violet eyes gleamed, and he stepped closer to me, invading my space. In a husky voice, he asked, “Does this mean you’d consider a binding with me?”

I stared at him. Whoa, I’d never talked with a man about this stuff before. The fake thing with Tyr had been explosive, born of a desperate situation. There was never any courting, nor any gradual descent. We’d fallen suddenly and all at once. I knew the asking usually went first in these things. I mean, give me some credit; Mum had told me a tale or two growing up. Had I been in a situation where a gorgeous guy with pointy ears wanted to court me? Nope. But, I was smart enough to know that entertaining said situation was a bad idea.

Did I know how to reject someone nicely, or at all? No, but I could try.

“No,” I blurted.

He pulled back, hurt flickering across his face. “What?”

My jaw dropped. Mistress moons, did I just say that out loud? “Uh, what I mean is this situation that you spoke of is, uh, dousing my, uh, fire.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I don’t want to think of bindings and stuff right now.”

I didn’t expect his quiet chuckle or for Kamoi to take my hand. “Ryn, you’re blushing.”

I sniffed. “You’re not supposed to call me out on that. It’s manner rule number one.”

“I apologize again then, but I find the color enticing. You are young; I forget, and maybe you’ve not had a man come to you as I am now.”

I gave him a shy smile, my cheeks still burning. “I haven’t, but that doesn’t change my answer, Kamoi.” He’d put himself out there, so he deserved an honest answer. “Recently, I fell in love and was hurt. I’m not past that yet.”

His violet eyes softened. He raised my hand and kissed the back of it. “Then I will be content to wait until your heart is healed. Though you should know, Phaetyn are rather good at healing.”

He winked, and I blushed again as I slid my hand free.

“O-okay?” I said, feeling a pleasing coolness where he’d kissed my hand.

Kamoi bowed. “There is to be an evening meal tonight,” he said, speaking as if our conversation had never occurred. “My mother believes a gathering of the Phaetyn will help to calm frayed tempers.”

Relating this civil war to frayed tempers was like calling a Drae a kitten.

“I hope you and Dyter will join us at the royal table,” he said after a brief pause.

I’d just rejected the guy, so I practically tripped over myself as I answered, “Yes. Of course.”

He leaned toward me and asked, “Will you sit beside me?”

“Kamoi . . .” My heart pounded in my chest.

He smiled. “Just as friends.”

I’m not sure his people would interpret the seating plan that way. “I’d appreciate if you cleared up the rumors of our binding first,” I said. “As long as it’s clear to everyone we’re no more than friends, I’ll sit beside you.”

“Ouch,” he said. “You know how to wound a man.”

I reached behind my back to open the door and backed into the room as a grin bubbled up. “Lucky you’re a good healer then.”

I winked and closed the door in his face.



I stared at the flower crown and the other . . . thing.

“Does that top lace up?” Dyter asked, peering over my shoulder. “And where are the sleeves.”

I used the tip of my finger to pick up one of the drooping sleeves. “There.”

The ‘lace up top’ was a silver corset with green vines embroidered into it.

Dyter’s face was turning purple, and he shook his head violently. “Completely indecent. Not happening. I’ll be having a word with Kamoi. I heard some of your conversation. I’ll be darned if there’s any Phaetyn binding going on.”

“Dyter, can we never speak about binding, ever?” I asked, staring at the bottom half of the dress. Alternating lengths of wispy green and silver material fell in a curtain from the lower end of the silver corset. I’d never seen anything like it in Verald.

He spluttered. “I don’t want to speak about it either, but the males are closing in, just like your mother and I always knew they would with you being so pretty. We’d hoped your independence and bad sense of humor would scare them off until you were ready to choose a partner. I thought she’d give you the talk about binding, but I guess I better step up since she’s in the stars now.”