Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(29)

The golden barrier shimmered high above the forest, ensuring my father could not attack here again. Although, knowing how easily he’d seized control of my body had me tossing and turning every night.

With a sigh, I spoke to the night, asking my deepest fear, “Are we rushing into this war?”

The night answered me in his silken voice. “No.”

I sat up, smiling at Tyrrik as he slid behind me, his arms encircling my torso just under my breasts, and I leaned my head back against his chest, breathing in the pine and steel scent of him.

The darkness wrapped us in its embrace, and I continued to bare my fears aloud. “The Gemondians are still recovering though they’re healthier than they were. Verald has had longer, but it’s been weeks since we last saw Calvetyn. The Phaetyn are terrified after the attack. And we have yet to contact Azule—”

Tyrrik didn’t reply immediately, but I waited, listening as he drew a long breath.

“There never seems to be a right time to fight back.”

I twisted in his arms, placing my hands on his forearms as I looked up into his inky gaze. “But?”

“When I was enslaved to Irdelron, there were many moments I fought his control, despite knowing I couldn’t break the blood oath. When the possibility came to break his power over me, when I found you, the time still didn’t feel right. But then, it wasn’t because of certain failure; it was for fear of failure. Because then I had someone to lose.”

After the dungeon, I thought I’d lost just about everything that mattered. Not true. And despite my legitimate concerns of the rebellion’s readiness, maybe Tyrrik was right. Was this weight on my chest fear? The heaviness grew as I thought of losing those I had left—Dyter, Lani . . . my mate.

I searched Tyrrik’s face, my heart in my throat, and asked, “Do you think we can do it?”

“I think,” he said, and his brows furrowed as he stared up at the sky, “the stronger we get, the stronger Draedyn will become. Waiting five, ten, or twenty years will make no difference; it won’t give us the certainty of success we all crave.” He pursed his lips, and his jaw set. He scooted back just enough so when he tilted his head, he met my gaze. “But to win, we must fight while the people of Draeconia can look at their bodies and see the evidence of how he starved them while the dirt is still soft on the graves of their husbands and fathers, and while the land is yellow and dead, leached of life by its diseased and evil ruler. He might hold Draeconia by the throat now, but if we rise together, we will disembowel his reign and then execute him for his abuse.”

As he spoke, my breath quickened, and I rose onto my knees. I’d missed exactly when I’d tightened my grip on his forearms, but I was ready to leap into action. “Wow,” I said, easing my grip, exhaling my energy. “You need to write that down.”

He snorted.

“No, seriously,” I said, nodding. “I could actually do battle right now and win.”

His lips quirked, and he wrapped an arm around my neck, bending down to press a kiss against our mate mark on my neck. I shivered, and my thoughts of battle derailed. I scooted closer. That kiss was fine, good even, but Tyrrik’s tongue was for more than just talking. I wet my lips as I glanced up at him through my lashes. “Mate,” I said plainly, my lips lifting into a smile at the sound of the title. “Mate.”

Tyrrik shook as he chuckled low in his throat. “Getting practice in?”

My eyes narrowed.

“You were practicing the real name for Phaetynville in exactly the same tone.”

“Kanahele o keola,” I said then smiled sheepishly. “Okay, I might be practicing a little. It just . . . still feels strange. Good strange though.”

Whatever you need, my love.

I snuggled into his chest, and our bodies swayed gently underneath the elm tree and black sky.

“Hey, Tyrrik?”

He hummed in the back of his throat as he ran his hand up and down my back.

I opened my eyes, remaining pressed against him. “You know the attack wasn’t your fault, right?”

He only froze for a second, but the brief reaction was all I needed to confirm my theory.

“You think it was,” I accused, pulling back. “Why? How was Draedyn taking over my mind possibly your fault?”

He pulled the darkness to him, shadowing his face above the neckline of his black aketon. “How is it you blame yourself for how easily your father was able to penetrate your mind?”

“Nuh-uh,” I said, standing as I blinked away his cloaking power. “Don’t turn this interrogation around. I’m asking you, Tyrrik. Don’t deflect, and don’t you dare try and hide.”

He rose, taking a step back into the inky shadows, his eyes flooding black as he took me in. His nostrils flared, and he tore his gaze from me and began to pace in jerky strides.

“Tell me,” I said quietly, staying right where I was. “It wasn’t your fault, Tyrrik.”

“It was,” he said, halting before me. “I went against my instincts.”

What?

He continued, “My every instinct said I should not allow you to leave alone; I should be by your side to fight with you, for you. To protect you as I should. I overrode those instincts, and you were attacked. I didn’t make it to your side in time, and you were hurt.”