Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(88)

“You won’t need that here,” I said, cracking my knuckles. I let a sheepish smile escape. I thought for a moment about asking for something in return, but my mum’s words echoed in my mind, “A good deed isn’t a good deed if they pay you for it.” I wanted this to be a good deed.

I knelt on the ground beside the king and rested my hands on the rocky soil of the dark garden. I could feel the struggle of the vegetation through the barren dirt. I took a deep breath and thought of the vibrancy of Zivost. My awareness spread throughout the entire royal garden, and I greeted the various plants with a mental caress, recognizing them without effort. I wanted this garden to be as luscious and full of life as the Zivost. Pushing my Phaetyn mojo into the ground, I told the pumpkins, potatoes, carrots, beans, berries, parsnips, and fruit trees to grow. Like a ripple in the water, a wave of power swelled beneath my hands for a while before it undulated outward. I sent another surge directed at the potatoes.

People could always use more potatoes in my experience.

I opened my eyes and pointed where the scraggly potato plants had been a few minutes ago. The foliage was now thick and green. “If you dig those up now, they won’t be too big,” I said to King Zakai and the gardener. “In the morning, they’ll be the size of pumpkins. Will you have your cook roast one or two now and bring them up to Lord Tyrrik, please? He missed supper, and—”

“It would be my pleasure,” King Zakai said, his voice breaking. He reached for a hand trowel and then shuffled over to the patch and hacked at the dirt.

In his rush to dig up a potato, he was going to gouge them. I scooted after him. “Here. When you dig them up, the trick is to go at it softly so you don’t tear the skin.”

I unearthed a potato, and when I followed the tuber to its edges, I found the little spuds were the size of a watermelon already. Yeah, those were definitely mine. Apparently, my mojo was a little stronger now.

I deposited the potato into the gardener’s outstretched hand and brushed off my own. Ignoring the king’s gaping mouth, I said, “I’m off. Please be sure to round up something hearty for Tyrrik to eat. Drae get very cranky when they’re hungry.”

The king recovered enough to chuckle weakly, but the soldier’s mouth remained open.

“I’ll be sure to send up some of the potato to him when it’s roasted. Please give my best to him and Lord Dyter. And thank you, Ryn.”

I brushed off his apology and stooped to pluck a carrot and a couple strawberries the size of apples from the ground, and then I left the walled-off garden.

I strode down several empty halls before I realized I was alone. Alone. With my knife. And a bajillion precious jewels. Conditions were perfect.





34





I glanced up and down the hall. The coast was clear. I studied the wall, twirling my golden knife absently.

The stone masons had used a dark cement to adhere the gems to the walls, and I wiggled the tip of the blade into the mortar, gritting my teeth at the grating sound it created. Mistress Moons, that sounded worse than Dyter’s singing. But I was Ryn the Persistent, and within a few minutes, I’d freed not one but three stunning uncut stones the size of my palm. Saliva filled my mouth, and my fingers itched to get a few more out to add to my horde, but I suppressed the urge. I wasn’t greedy. What I was taking was reasonable. Besides, the gaps I’d left weren’t that noticeable, but if I took too many, someone would inevitably notice the holes. I wanted my collection to be balanced, not just full of one type of shiny.

I placed the three sapphires in my pockets, along with the golden knife, its tip now bent, and returned to our rooms.

“Here’s your strawberries, Dyter,” I said as I opened the door, dropping my voice as his soft snores registered.

My gaze went from his supine form to the other two beds in our room, and my heart dropped. Both of them were empty. I sucked in a ragged breath, a scream balanced on the edge of my lips. I managed to swallow it back and scanned the room for evidence of a struggle, anything that would give me an indication if Tyrrik left on his own accord or—

“Ryn?” Tyrrik whispered from the open door of the bathroom.

He stood bare-chested, and water ran in rivulets down his skin. A towel was wrapped around his tapered waist.

A new sense of angst replaced my previous panic as heat flooded my cheeks.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. He must’ve felt my fear through the bond. “I thought they’d taken you.” I was probably irrationally apprehensive, but my ability to be calm over things like that was shattered.

He took a deep breath, and I stared at his chest muscles. Had he already healed? Because it looked like he was filling back out. I crossed the room, choosing not to ignore the low pull in my abdomen to be near him.

“How are you feeling?” I forced my gaze upward, my heart flipping when I saw the same intensity reflected in his eyes. “You look good.”

I did not just say that out loud. Trying to salvage my blunder, I blurted, “Like, not dead.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his lips. “You look good, too. Although I liked the way your other dress bounced when you jumped from rock to rock.”

I might’ve hit him if I wasn’t still holding the produce. I decided the wall to one side of him was a good place to look. “I knew you were looking at my butt.”