Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(67)

He clutched his stomach, hooting. “Do you know how hard it is to drag a blanket with one arm? A blanket with a Drae on it?”

I doubled up, imagining Dyter dragging Tyrrik through the forest, but after a few seconds, something happened to my laughter, and soon the choking sound coming out of my mouth didn’t resemble laughter at all.

Dyter got to his feet and crossed to me. He’d stopped chuckling, like me, but he wasn’t crying or gasping for breath. I sniffed as he pulled me into his embrace, inhaling his familiar smell.

“You’ll be okay, Rynnie,” he said, rocking me.

I wasn’t okay, and I wasn’t sure I ever would be. I certainly hadn’t been okay so far. I’d been hurt. So badly. I choked on my words, trying to tell him of my uncertainty.

Dyter didn’t acknowledge my incoherent answer, still rocking me as he repeated, “You’ll do okay.”

An overwhelming pressure rose through my throat, a darkness I’d suppressed for weeks. I struggled to reign it in, but I was too exhausted, too hungry, too emotionally drained to battle it back. The low wail escaped, and the dam burst.

A terrible mourning keen drove up from my injured soul, tearing through my chest, searing my throat as it ravaged me. My abrupt introduction to evil escalated to horror I’d never imagined possible. For three months, I’d been tortured, controlled, intimidated, abused, and manipulated. I’d lost my innocence, almost like the girl who’d been protected so well by her mother never existed.

I’d lost my naivety and ignorance, and I wanted that back.

I didn’t want to know nightmares existed. I didn’t want to know I could die. Before, I’d known both of these things, but before, I hadn’t understood them. In the dungeons, I’d become not only acquainted with nightmares but intimately familiar with their terror. Death was rapidly becoming my devoted companion, and I seemed impotent to put either of them aside. Why couldn’t I put my fear for these things aside?

I grieved, shedding tears for the death of the girl I’d been before entering that foul castle.

I wept, soaking Dyter’s aketon, draining myself of the pitiful reserve I had left. I cried, and the darkness released and poured out of me.

I shed every single tear in me as I mourned for what I would never have.

I lamented the losses I knew and the ones I had yet to discover. I cried, letting my heartbreak rule me.

I cried, finally feeling safe to mourn. For tonight, I was in the arms of my father, the only security I knew I could count on.



I hadn’t woken up chilled in days, and confusion clouded my mind as awareness greeted me. Where was I? Why was I so cold? The smell of campfire hung in the air, but there was no fire nearby.

Tyrrik. He wasn’t close, or I would be warm. Had I rolled away? Seemed unlikely given my subconscious tendencies. I reached out, but my hand froze mid-air as I fully awoke.

I should feel lighter after shedding so much of my emotional pain last night, but my head felt filled with bricks from the toll. My eyes were gritty, and I rubbed the salty crust off and blinked them open.

I was alone in the cave. The filtered light was plenty to illuminate the shallow cavern. Dyter’s pack was propped against a rock, but Dyter was absent. I took a deep breath and heard Tyrrik’s breath hitch.

He was awake. My heartbeat picked up, and I felt him several meters in front of me.

His heartbeat picked up, too.

Tyrrik was watching me.

“Khosana,” he said. “I know you’re awake.”

I wasn’t sure I was ready for this. To see him now after things had changed. Nervous energy skittered over my skin and deep in my belly. I wanted to go back to sleep, maybe even forever if it meant I didn’t have to deal with the jumble of feelings I had for the Drae.

When we first plummeted from the sky and he’d been awake, caring for him was easy. His near-death experience forced me to realize I didn’t want him dead, and in the heat of the moment, that acknowledgement had been easy and simple. But I would’ve done the same for Arnik, Dyter, and possibly even a stranger.

Over the last few days, I’d been Tyrrik’s lifeline. Sure, turns out I did a sucky job of protecting him, but I’d done my best to provide for his every need. I hadn’t hesitated for one moment to do everything I could for him: making nectar, washing his immobile body, pouring nectar down his throat. There was something about his unconsciousness that made the effort uncomplicated, and if I was being honest with myself, being close to him felt right at the time. But that level of intimacy, in retrospect, felt different than healing a wound that would’ve otherwise killed him.

Tyrrik had been asleep and unaware then, but now he was awake. He would not continue to be unaware of anything I did. If I didn’t block him, he would even know why.

Denial doesn’t get you anywhere, Dyter had said.

But denial had been my lifeline since the castle dungeons. To throw that lifeline away felt akin to pulling off my skin to don another person’s: impossible.

“Open your eyes,” Tyrrik said in a low voice as he drew closer. “Please show them to me. I’ve dreamed of them lately, but I know my dreams don’t do them justice.”

My heart skipped a stupid beat, and I could tell by the stupid hitch in his breath that he’d heard. Stupid Drae-mate hormones.

I opened my eyes.

Tyrrik stood just outside the rocky overhang. He’d lost weight. The nectar had been enough to keep him alive but not enough to satisfy the demands of a man’s body. Stubble covered the bottom half of his face. His silky hair was disheveled as though he’d run his hands through the tangle many times. He was wearing one of Dyter’s aketons but no trousers or shoes. The Drae’s broad shoulders and direct look made his bearing just as threatening as ever.