Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(7)
They were Tyrs as I’d named them. Tears to everyone else who didn’t know about the man I’d fallen in love with while captive. A gentle, kind, caring soul who I’d believed I could’ve spent the rest of my life with. If he’d been real.
I sighed, walking across the Market Circuit, the ring road that went through all twelve Harvest Zones. I entered into the quota fields on the other side of that, trudging through a field of pumpkins. Not one to miss an opportunity, I spat on my hands and touched the pumpkins as I passed, willing them to be huge tomorrow.
I was reasonably certain the land in Verald would survive while I was away, but a bit of extra pumpkin soup never hurt. I made a mental note to ask the king how he was going to keep his subjects fed. Everyone had just been taking what they wanted thus far, but with the king now coronated, he’d soon have to establish order.
As I began my climb up the mountain pass to the castle, I pulled down my sleeves to cover the blue scales. The iridescent gem-like additions to my body hadn’t disappeared since I awoke, and they weren’t the only noticeable difference. My mind must’ve been playing tricks because my teeth seemed awfully sharp, and my sense of smell was quite a lot better. Happy birthday to me.
I chuckled nervously, feeling dizzy. Those things probably meant nothing. My being Drae still wasn’t certain. My gaze fell to my arms, the scales beneath my shirt calling my bluff.
Reaching the castle gates, I halted and sat on a mound of grass directly outside them. I crossed my legs in my ankle-length, practical, brown skirt, smoothing my deep-blue aketon over the top. Assuming I’d need to wait here for a while, I sank my hands into the ground and sent my Phaetyn mojo out.
“They’ve been waiting for you in the castle.”
I didn’t shriek. I’d smelled him coming. Why did he smell so good? Like leather, pine needles, and smoke. I gritted my teeth. “I’m not going into the castle.” Never again. I’d made a vow, and I would keep it, even if it killed me. “You, of all people, should know. If you want me involved in the talk, you’ll need to bring it out here.”
Lord Tyrrik snorted. Always dressed from head to toe in tight-fitting, liquid black, the Drae looked rumpled this morning. Being a creature of the night, I doubted he appreciated the early start, and it showed in his dark disheveled hair and the slow blink of his eyes. “Would you like me to ask the king to come outside to talk to you?”
I arched a brow. “That’s what I said.”
His lips curved into a smile as he dipped his head. “As you wish, Khosana. And . . . happy birthday.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved him away. He’d remembered my birthday? Not that forgetting was easy when said birthday ended with me growing wings and alerting the emperor to my existence. What did it mean that he’d remembered? I shook my head. It meant I should return to sending out mojo into the ground. I took my own stellar advice, humming in a deep voice to see if that helped clear my mind of his presence.
“Ryn,” Dyter said tightly a few minutes later. He strode out of the castle gates toward me, the king trailing in his wake, with Tyrrik and the Phaetyn Prince not far behind.
Dyter used that tone of voice with me whenever I burned the stew, and I knew he deplored my poor manners to the new sovereign of the kingdom. But Dyter had only a fleeting glance of the horror my life had been inside the castle, so I didn’t hold his irrational feelings against him. Beaming up at him, I said, “Good morning!”
The irritation on his face softened, but he came and whispered to me, “What you did was disrespectful.”
What Cal’s father and his crony-Druman, Jotun, did to me was way more disrespectful. I believed Irdelron’s son, Caltevyn, would be just what this kingdom needed. Regardless, I wasn’t about to re-enter the place that still haunted my nightmares. The palace was the setting for some of the worst experiences of my life; I’d meant it when I said I’d never go back inside.
“My lady,” the prince greeted me, bowing low. As he straightened, his eyes widened.
“Hey, Kamoi.” I smiled at him, dusting off my skirt as I stood.
He stared at the ground around me, his mouth agape.
I glanced downward. Nothing had changed to my eyes, but I could feel that the ground was a lot happier than before, almost like I’d felt after eating Mum’s lavender honey-cakes. Could he feel it too? Or what did he see?
Caltevyn, the king, reached for my hand, and I jerked it back. Dyter gasped and the others silenced, but Caltevyn merely surveyed me for a few seconds before dropping his hand and saying, “I understand you would prefer to conduct the discussion outdoors. I should’ve thought of it myself, dear Ryn. I’m sorry.”
“Right,” I said, uncomfortable with his courtesy. I made some semblance of a curtsey to make up for snatching my hand away and scanned the others. “So?”
The king smiled. “So, I’m told all of you must make a journey to Zivost. Once the emperor knows my father is dead, and there is a stray Phaetyn about, his curiosity will be piqued.”
“It’ll be more than piqued when he feels her existence tonight,” Tyrrik said darkly.
My mouth dried. “Why? He can feel your existence, and he isn’t chasing you down.”
He cast me a look. “You are a female Drae.”
I grimaced at what he left unspoken. “Cool. Great . . . Awesome. That’s . . . that’s awesome.”