Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(107)

“But I saw them die—”

“Impossible.”

I think they’re taking it pretty well don’t you? Tyrrik asked me.

I chuffed with nervous laughter as we landed. My gut churned, and I hesitated before shifting.

Don’t forget your surprise is waiting, my mate said.

Shifting, I grumbled, Sometimes I get the feeling you just bribe me to do everything.

Does it work?

Yes.

Then why would I stop? he asked.

Straightening, I cast a furtive glance around the forest clearing. In my bid to avoid the shocked Phaetyn, my gaze snagged on the banner strung overhead.

I read aloud, “Biannual Potato Growing Competition.” I grinned at Tyrrik. “For real?”

He nodded, his smile as wide as mine, radiating love. “Surprise!”

Holy pancakes. “I love it.” I cracked my knuckles. “This competition is mine.”

“As it’ll be every six months now, my love.”

Too true. Now I’d come out of hiding, I wasn’t rolling over for anyone. Not that there was much competition. I’d kick up a fuss about Lani competing because she had a crown that amplified her powers. If she wanted to grow big potatoes, she should have thought about that before accepting responsibilities. Which was exactly why I wasn’t a queen or empress of anything other than potatoes and soap. All the other titles were overrated. But this? Totally worth coming back to life.

A crowd of people strode toward us, and I saw my friends, those who knew and a few who’d been kept in the dark after our faked deaths.

“Rynnie!”

My smile widened, and I approached Dyter and said, “Hello, Father.”

“What?” he said in confusion. “Who said that?” He reached for me, his hands grasping at the empty air.

A length of material covered his eyes. The battle against Draedyn had left Dyter with his life but not his sight. He had learned the lesson of trusting blindly just because a person played on his empathy, or worse a common nationality. Queen Lahr had played him from the moment we’d stepped into her kingdom, acting the part of a helpless Veraldian woman. But the harsh lesson had served him well in the early months of his rule, and he hadn’t been caught by the same ploy again.

“Whatever, old coot,” I said, stepping forward and enveloping him in a hug. I’d last seen him three months ago. Our separation made me appreciate the time I had with him even more. Even with his endless blind jokes.

“You’ve decided to rejoin the realm?” he asked, squeezing me tight.

I nodded against his shoulder. “We have.”

“That took courage, my girl. Ryhl would be proud.”

Had this been what my mother always yearned for? A life where she didn’t have to hide in fear? Smiling, I said, “Yes, I believe she would have.”

“Drae,” a woman said.

Pulling back from Dyter’s arms, I cocked a brow at my friend Queen Lani. “Phaetyn.”

I hugged her next and then Kamini, who Lani had nearly killed herself to save.

“You’re competing?” Kamini demanded. “That’s not fair . . . really not fair. You have ancestral powers. Lani isn’t competing.”

“She has a crown,” I said quickly. “I don’t. It’s totally fair.” Okay, so maybe I had a small edge, but then maybe this really was my calling. Besides, I’d be setting a standard and inspiring others to reach for the stars, in my humble opinion.

Kamini grumbled under her breath, and I felt Tyrrik’s amusement echoing my own.

I waved at King Zakai who was sitting down at the far end. He lifted a hand in greeting, busy conversing with a young woman. The death of Zakai’s son had dealt the king a blow he’d never quite recovered from. To have lost so much in his realm and then his only son made me want to cry on his behalf each time I saw him. He’d aged decades in the last year, although he smiled as the two assassin boys took seats to his left. Rumor was he was training one of them to be the next ruler. I had my money on non-smiley. Neilub set a plate of chocolate in front of the young woman before saying something to Zakai, making the old man laugh. I hoped the king would find some measure of joy until death led him to the moon and stars.

“They’re about to begin,” Tyrrik whispered in my ear, his breath warming the sensitive skin of my neck.

I shivered and felt his approval of my reaction vibrate through me. But there was potato glory to defend. Even if that meant moving closer to the still staring Phaetyn. Seriously, had they never seen someone come back from death before? They were supposed to be healers. I sucked in a shaky breath as Tyrrik ran his hands up and down my sides, and his low rumble of desire clouded my thoughts.

“Potatoes first,” I managed to gasp. “And then—” I cut off, glancing at the present company. We’ll have sex, I finished silently.

“I’m going to pretend I don’t know exactly what you meant to say.” Dyter shuddered. “Drak, I wish they’d taken my ears, instead.”

Oops. Poor Dyter really did have rotten luck when it came to me and Tyrrik’s maypole dancing and card playing.

My motivation to claim my title and move on to other things had me sprinting over to the plot of freshly overturned soil.

The other Phaetyn were already in the starting position, their heads turned to me, eyes the size of saucers. Ignoring them, I dug my hands down into the rich, brown soil and drew my moss-green power forward. Concentrating, I extracted the blue from this, leaving only pure, golden power behind.