Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(2)

I was done with Messenger Genius. “What I am is a Drae-Phaetyn who is able to grow sharp fangs,” I snapped. “I’ve been hurt bad, so my temper is volatile. I don’t even want to think about how unstable I am or who I might hurt if I get mad.” When I didn’t hear him leave, I snarled, “Hop to it, Mister Brilliant. Now.”

“Y-yes, Mistress Ryn.”

I smirked grimly at the pounding footsteps. Maybe Tyrrik was right; I should practice this shifty-hoo-ha. It’d be nice to save myself from future embarrassment . . . and death.

Khosana, are you okay? Tyrrik spoke through our bond, his voice filled with concern.

I rested my forehead against a pip. Yes, but I’m trapped.

Inside a pumpkin. Yes, I heard.

Was he concerned? Or was that suppressed laughter? Tyrrik better get rid of that humor I detected pronto. Does everyone know?

No, the messenger pulled me aside. But . . . how did you get in?

I shrugged, physically and mentally. I just grew it around myself.

I should’ve asked the pumpkin to grow a way to let me out.

As he drew closer, our bond began to pulse. The twisted onyx and lapis lazuli ropes thickened, the glow of the strands intensifying, their color blazing. I was certain it meant something. The bond liked Tyrrik being close and probably not for a game of hopscotch. I had a love-hate relationship with the mate-bond, depending on the circumstances and possibly my honesty on any given day.

I blew out a breath as the Drae came to stand on the opposite side of the squash-wall. Through the bond, I saw him lengthen his talons with barely a thought.

I’ve had time to practice, he reassured me.

I smiled, my mood brightening. Tyrrik was one hundred and nine years old, so he’d had a lot of time to practice. You only got the hang of it last year?

Yes, Khosana, he immediately said. You’ll get the hang of this much faster I’m sure.

He was stuffed full of potatoes, but I appreciated the boost to my ego, considering I was inside a pumpkin prison of my own making.

Stand back, mate.

The M-word. Again. “Wait, wait, wait,” I screeched, seeing where he planned to cut. “I don’t want you to just slice it up any ol’ way.”

“She wants a specific shape,” he muttered on the other side of the orange wall.

I shivered as his low voice reached me. I squeezed my eyes shut and mentally described what I wanted.

Get that? I asked, taking a healthy step back from the wall.

Message received, he thought back in a strangled voice.

I jumped as Tyrrik’s talons drove through the pumpkin as though the shell were a pancake. The razor-sharp blades sung as they sliced all the way to the inside. Crossing my arms, I watched with a critical eye as the Drae created a curved door. When he’d finished, he plunged the talons from both claws into the middle and pulled the new exit free, throwing it aside in the gem-encrusted hall.

Holding my head high, I stepped out of the pumpkin and met Lord Tyrrik’s eyes with a dignified expression. Mum used to say, “People don’t remember the mistake itself; they remember the grace with which a person handled it.”

He reached for me, and I held my breath. But instead of pulling me in for a steamy kiss, he dragged a long, sloppy strand of pumpkin fiber from my silver hair.

I scowled at him as he pressed his lips firmly together. His eyes watered, and he tossed the stringy mess away.

“Not laughing doesn’t really work when you’re in hysterics in your head,” I scolded. Jabbing a finger at my head, I continued, “I can hear you.”

I stomped toward the garden exit, cheeks flaming.

He latched a hand around my wrist. “Forgive me, Khosana. You make me forget my worries is all.” … inside a pumpkin, he mentally continued, laughing through our bond. “You always surprise me.”

I appreciated his verbal effort, and truthfully, Tyrrik had so many worries and scars I was happy to help him forget his heartache for a moment. Even if it involved moderate levels of humiliation for me.

“It is the biggest pumpkin I’ve ever seen,” he added, glancing back, still not releasing his hold on my wrist.

I grinned at the pumpkin which completely filled the royal garden in the previously barren area. It was a big pumpkin. “Do you think it’s the biggest one ever?”

He nodded seriously. “Most definitely. And such a deep orange.”

I slid him a suspicious look, but his expression didn’t falter, and the bond didn’t tell me otherwise. “Thank you.” I smiled widely. “It is a nice color.”

Tyrrik shifted his grip and intertwined our fingers, sending a pulse of his admiration through our bond.

My heart skipped a beat. Holy pancakes.

We walked out of the gardens in the direction of the meeting room, and I tried to settle my erratic pulse from Tyrrik’s touch. A touch was simple to most people, but after everything in Irdelron’s dungeons, people in my personal space didn’t feel simple to me even if the person was Tyrrik.

He stroked the base of my palm with his thumb. “Dyter is not happy with you.”

“Have they made any decisions yet?” I asked, hopefully. I sucked in another shallow breath and focused my attention on the rubies and sapphires. His touch even distracted me from shiny objects. That was a feat in itself.

“No, they await your presence.”