Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(92)

He’d made mistakes, horrible, gruesome, terrible ones. And so had I.

I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“I know you don’t want to take it slowly; that you want my acceptance today, right now,” I whispered.

He pursed his lips and his eyes widened, but he said nothing to deny what I’d accused. He’d been sincere and direct with me, and he deserved the same.

“I’m afraid, too,” I admitted.

I couldn’t tell him that I wanted to cling to the remnants of the person I’d been when my mother was alive. Perhaps he didn’t need me to verbalize my fear with our strengthened bond because he didn’t push. He just nodded and raised my hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there before releasing his hold.

“If you want to take it slow, we’ll take it slow,” he said, mostly ungrudgingly “When . . .” He stopped and ground out, “If you decide you want me . . . I will honor whatever decision you make.”

The tightness coiled in my chest, loosened, and then flitted away. I stared at Tyrrik, a fluttering, slightly bewildered sensation making me give him a shy smile.

Tyrrik squeezed my hand and then released it before standing. “Come now, my Princess. Let’s go see what you can do with your powers. Then, we’ll find the Pointy.”

I stood and, after a moment of hesitation, slipped my hand into his. Together we started toward the door.

A moment later, Dyter burst into the room.

I screeched and dropped Tyrrik’s hand like it was a hot potato.

“There’s smoke coming from the eastern range,” Dyter said, his eyes bright. “King Zakai’s scouts just came in with the report.”

Tyrrik reached over and threaded his fingers back with mine. “And?”

“Smoke?” I asked at the same time.

“Druman,” Dyter replied. “The scouting parties we saw on the way here. They’re lighting fires out there on the mountains.”

“How do you know it’s Druman?” Tyrrik asked.

Dyter gave him a pointed look. “Who else would it be?”

My mind caught up to Dyter’s. The Druman had been gathered around the areas of growth, likely searching for someone, especially after Tyrrik torched the search party a couple days ago.

Tyrrik squeezed my hand and followed my train of thought. “They’re looking for us, even if they don’t know it’s us.”

I began pacing. “But they weren’t burning stuff when we saw them before. Why—”

Horror dawned on me, and I spun to look at Dyter.

He nodded. “I think they’ve found her. Or, at least, suspect she’s close. I can’t think of any other reason why they’re burning the areas of growth.”

Tyrrik’s face hardened. “They’re trying to flush her out of hiding.” He glanced over at me. “The Phaetyn need her, and we need the Phaetyn. I’ve got to risk going out there to find her.”

“We,” I corrected, rounding on the Drae. “We risk it.”

“We don’t have time to argue.”

“No, we don’t, so stop. This thing goes two ways. I’ll either go with you now, or I follow you later.” I gritted my teeth and waited. If he said no, I was going to be so pissed.

His eyes glinted.

“We don’t know that they’ve found her,” Dyter interjected. “But at the very least, you need to go out and make sure. We need to scout it out.”

Both Tyrrik and I ignored the older man, locked in our own battle of wills.

“If you go out there, I do too,” I pressed, taking a predatory step toward him.

Several tense moments of silence passed, but I wasn’t about to give in on this. Whatever protection ignorance provided wasn’t worth it. Not anymore. Never again.

Tyrrik finally said, “I don’t like it, but I understand.”

I opened my mouth to protest, and then his words registered. I tried to play my gaping mouth off as a smile, but he wasn’t the least bit fooled. Still, he was kind enough not to say anything.

Ryn: 1 Tyrrik: 1

I liked that kind of score.



The dark gray smoke billowed into the sky, making everything smell like singed wood. The blackened expanse stretched past where the Phaetyn’s flourishing foliage had once been and into the scraggly trees and brush. Twisted and charred trunks jutted into the air from the scorched earth, their appearance far too similar to the rocks outside Zivost.

Anything?

Tyrrik asked his question casually, but I could feel his worry seeping through our tentative bond. Worry was only slightly better than anger, but baby steps were good. But we’d seen no Druman on the ground since leaving Gemond. Not that I’d expected to see lots of them, but we’d been flying for almost an hour, and there were none.

Let’s get closer to the fire. The crackling and chomping of the roaring flames lay just ahead, and the heat and smoke spread into the sky.

Druman, Tyrrik said.

I can’t smell them. I couldn’t smell anything besides the acrid smoke. It burned my eyes and singed my nose. But as we lifted over the final range between us and the fire, I saw them.

Dozens of the emperor’s spawn crawling over the rocks and through the lowlying trees. Their unwashed stench wafted into the air, wet leather and body odor, making my stomach churn. In their wake, another fire raged just below, the orange-and-red flames devouring the small copse of plant life. The men shouted and waved at one another in a cut up version of the Drae language I could only understand a few words of. The Druman must have created their own dialect.