Blood Oath (Darkest Drae #1)(67)

“She lied to me about everything.” What did he know? My heart ached for her, and at the same time I felt the sting of betrayal. “She made you kill her.”

Perhaps not for the reasons you think.

I wasn’t an idiot. “I know it was to protect me, but she still lied. I don’t even know if she was my real mother.” I felt hurt and betrayed still, but mostly I felt sad. I wanted to talk to her about what was going on. I wanted to hear her laugh. I wanted her wisdom.

You know she loved you. That should be enough for now.

“For now?”

He didn’t answer, and all too soon we turned back toward the castle. As we got closer, I saw horses lining up far below, the silent Druman in their navy aketons leading them. Between the horses, a single carriage sat awaiting its occupant, door open and ready. One of the horses nickered, drawing my attention, and a Druman sheathed a wicked blade in his scabbard next to the warhorse.

Pressing my hands to Irrik’s Drae skin, I asked, “Where are they going?”

Irrik shielded me from his thoughts. Like closing the folding panels in his room so no one could see into his private quarters, only he was shutting me out.

Where are they going? I thought at him, feeling a little foolish.

We dove toward the courtyard, and my breath caught in my chest.

His muscles bunched and twitched, and I closed my eyes, tensing for the bone-crushing impact. Then I was falling. The bloody Drae had dropped me. I was pummeling toward my death. I opened my mouth to scream, but my voice was trapped. My heart pounded, and I berated myself for ever trusting him. Irrik was the enemy, and this was probably just some form of—

I opened my eyes in time to see Lord Irrik snap into his human form as he hit the ground in a roll. Before I could blink, he was up and running.

I crashed into him, and he absorbed my force as we fell to the stone path. I lay sprawled on top of him, panting to catch my breath. “You need to work on your passenger landings.”

He pulled me up next to him. Be brave today.

I turned to him with a jerk of my head, but his chiseled features were cold, and my questions never left my mouth.

“Lord Irrik,” Irdelron drawled. “Your timing is impeccable. I noticed you flying this morning. Is everything in motion?”

“Yes, my liege,” the Drae said, inclining his head.

“Excellent. And my dear Phaetyn, your efforts are coming along nicely.” King Irdelron smiled as though his compliment were sincere, but the gleam in his eye said otherwise. He waved his hand, beckoning someone. “I’ve asked Jotun to accompany you to the fields today. The two of you are already well acquainted, so I expect you’ll be productive in his company.”

Dread filled my soul, and my knees trembled. Jotun was going to kill me for knocking him out with my chamber pot. I looked around in panic as my torturer advanced, grinning and carrying a whip. Irrik was drinking from a water skin, ignoring me. The king turned away and barked orders at another guard.

Irrik stepped between Jotun and me, facing the Druman. “If you kill her, she’ll be no use to the king or the land. Not that you care or are compelled to listen to me anymore, but Irdelron will be livid. Who do you think he values more out of the two of you?” He turned to me and shoved the water skin at me. “Don’t forget to drink while you’re out there. You need to be able to spit, Phaetyn.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, unsure if there was a hidden meaning in his words. Maybe he was just giving me the water skin.

The Druman mounted their horses, and Irdelron yelled something to Irrik that made the Drae’s earlier words clear and my mouth go dry.

“Let’s go, my Drae,” the king said. “It’s time to hunt our enemies.”

No! They were hunting the rebels? Why now? Blood drained from my face, leaving a buzzing sensation behind. Why did this happen when I was so close to freedom? Irrik turned to me and then away as he stood apart to shift into his Drae form.

Jotun ushered me in the opposite direction, but I kept twisting to look behind me until Irrik’s black form was out of sight.

Jotun hadn’t touched me while Irrik was still in view, but the crack of leather announced Jotun’s confidence that the Drae was now far enough away. The sting of the leather strip ripped through my thin shift and into the skin on my back. Hate was not a strong enough word for what I felt.

Jotun grabbed my arm and yanked me forward on the road toward the next field. As soon as I recognized our path, I wrenched free from his grip. He rewarded me with another lashing, but the sting of the whip was worth it to have him not touching me.

As I walked across the blackened ground of Zone Seven, I wished Irrik would burn Jotun to a crisp. I’d love to see his face shriveled and scorched from the Drae’s fire. I wanted Jotun dead.

My back would be a map of his ministrations within the next hour, and if he kept it up, my strength would drain, too. If the rebels came for me today, I had to be ready to run and have the energy to fight. Too many more lashes, and I wouldn’t be able to do either.

The whip cracked against me again, and an almighty roar rocked Verald. Jotun raised the whip for another go, but he blanched and swung about, searching the skies.

Courage swelled with the sound of the Drae, and I couldn’t help gloating. “You know Irrik will find out, Jotun,” I said. “If not Irrik, I will be sure to tell the king about your mistreatment later. You can flay me now, but you’ll be dead by sunrise if you keep at it.”