Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(11)

“Fifteen,” she insisted, nostrils flaring. “And we’re not talking about my sex life.”

Young Phaetyn got prickly about their slow aging. Kamini, Lani’s younger sister, was like that too. “We’re not talking about mine either.”

I wrenched open the drawstring of my deer hide pack and rummaged for some water. I uncorked the skin and guzzled the contents.

“Well, maybe we should. Sex isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”

I choked and spat water all over my pack. Not embarrassing? I could think of a bajillion different reasons I didn’t want to talk about maypoles and the potential dancing of them, number one being that I was tired and hungry, and rectifying those two things required my full and immediate attention.

“You’ve accepted him as your mate.” Lani took the skin and looked at me pointedly. “Mating is part of nature. Just the same as a plant growing.”

I rolled my eyes as she drank. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

“You do understand how it works, right? Do you need someone to explain where the parts go?”

“No,” I said in a strangled voice. “Please, no. I know where the parts go. My mother explained it all to me. Can we not talk about this?”

Lani said nothing, and as the minutes passed, I slowly relaxed.

Then she went and cleared her throat. “No, sorry, Ryn. I don’t feel right leaving the matter alone. Dyter was hinting at it the other day, but he doesn’t seem comfortable tackling it head on. Who would you prefer to talk to? Dyter or me?”

When she put it like that . . . At least Lani would be far away in a forest. “Kill me now. Okay, get on with it then,” I huffed. “I’ve got things to do.”

Lani peered around the empty mountain top but didn’t call me out on my comment. “Have you had a boyfriend?”

I thought of Tyr, but he—

“Before you found your mate, I mean. Let’s not include him quite yet.”

The only other friend I’d had was Arnik, and he was more friend, not boyfriend. “Kind of?” That was such a lie, but I didn’t want to seem uncool in front of the maybe-Phaetyn queen.

“He was at least a friend, right?”

I nodded.

“Great. Now, think about how you kept the friendship healthy and strong.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t really do anything. We hung out. Played pranks together.”

“Did you ever give him a gift?”

I tipped back my head and pondered a moment. “On his birthday, sure. Otherwise, not really. We were a little poor for gifts. I gave him an autumn leaf I’d pressed flat in my mother’s cookbook once.” I grinned and added with a touch of sarcasm, “Took me ages.”

But there were gifts, small things, like him walking with me to deliver soap. Sometimes, he’d find a pretty pebble and give it to me, and I’d saved plenty of honey-cakes for him over the years.

“Good relationships take effort to keep them healthy, and sex is a natural part of a mate-bond.”

Heat crept into my cheeks. “I knew that.” Kind of.

She studied me and nodded. “Good. Relationships take effort and time, and if you value the relationship, you’ll give him both. You’ll both change over time. That’s just life, so make sure you’re investing in your relationship so that distance doesn’t grow between you. Because make no mistake, though you are mates and cannot bear to be physically apart, you can still grow distant in other ways.”

I snorted and, in my best teasing voice, said, “I’m surprised you’re such a relationship expert.”

I knew the words were a mistake as soon as they left my mouth.

Her smile dropped, and her features took on a haunted look.

“I was just kidding,” I rushed to amend the offense. “I mean I’m surprised. My mother never had a partner. There were hardly any males around in Verald.”

I frowned. Was that why I was finding it difficult to fully accept Tyrrik’s presence in my life?

She patted my leg and said, “When you’re alone, you have a lot of time to think. And to regret. I want you to be aware of what can happen if you don’t nurture your relationships, mate and otherwise. From what I’ve observed, what you and Tyrrik have is pretty amazing.”

I hadn’t had this I realized—another female to talk to. Childlike creepiness aside, I didn’t dislike talking to Lani. I peeked up at her through my lashes, a smile curving my lips against my will. “You really think that?”

“I do.” She smiled back at me before shoving dried meat and bread into my hands. “Now, eat before you headtalk your mate. I’ll keep first watch. You need to recover your strength for tomorrow.”

I wolfed dinner down double time and guzzled the rest of one of our waterskins. My muscles felt wrung out from the drain on my Phaetyn powers, but my mind kept replaying the conversation with Lani. I’d spent far more time pushing Tyrrik away than pulling him close. And sure, I’d had my reasons for a while. But I didn’t want distance between us. I just truly, deep down, feared trusting him.

I feared he may not always be around—whether that came from my mother never having a partner, the fact there hadn’t been many males in Verald growing up, or King Irdelron’s brutality, which taught me to fear losing those I loved—and I was allowing my fear to rule my actions. Nope, not okay with that. I determined not to let fear affect what I might have with Tyrrik. What I did have with Tyrrik.