Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(33)
There were no pieces of the past, no evidence of the people who’d once resided in this land. There was only the befouled ground, the deathly white ash, and the noxious smoke rising in the air.
It is not your fault.
I couldn’t respond. How could he say that? He’d only left Gemond to protect me because Draedyn . . . Draedyn had exposed our weaknesses and capitalized on them. Tyrrik had responded to my fear. If it wasn’t my fault, then whose fault was it? Certainly not Zakai’s or Zarad’s or the other people of Gemond who willingly sent their quotas and their sons to the emperor. None of them had plotted to rebel, not until we landed in their kingdom a couple weeks ago.
Do you think anyone is still alive?
Hopefully they’re safe in the mountain.
Tyrrik’s words felt flat, and his attempt at reassurance did nothing to soothe my fear or guilt. The entire kingdom couldn’t fit in Zakai’s castle. There was no way most of the people outside would’ve had enough warning to get in there. How many had died? How many would we have left to fight?
Would Zakai still want to fight?
We should have been here. I should have dropped Lani and come straight back. Then I wouldn’t have been around for Draedyn to take over my mind and force me to hand Kamini over. And our absence wouldn’t have left our friends open to harm.
We can’t possibly be everywhere at once. They’ll understand this. Let’s go to the back. Tyrrik led the way to the other side of the mountain.
I expected him to fly deeper into the valley, but as we descended, the smoke clogged my throat, and I struggled to draw breath. Could anyone have survived? Yes, I told myself firmly. I refused to believe Dyter could be gone.
Zakai is smart, Tyrrik said. I’m sure they have contingency plans for attacks. He tucked his wings and angled down and then disappeared into the trees on the northern side of the mountains where he’d acted as a decoy to my departure to the Zivost not so long ago.
Trees!
I fed the spark of hope, focusing on the organic evidence that not all was burned to ash, and followed my mate. I flew between the scraggly pines, eyes scanning for any movement, uncertain if I should be relieved or devastated when there was none. No Gemondians, but also no Druman. Was that a good thing? I clung to hope until I reached the base of the mountain behind my mate. Relief flooded me when I saw Tyrrik already shifting to his human form, standing on a short ledge . . . next to Dyter.
I roared in joy and sped toward my friend. I’d never shifted mid-flight, but I’d seen Tyrrik do it several times. I belatedly realized Tyrrik made a lot of things look easy that weren’t. Tearing through the air like a Phaetyn projectile, I crashed into Dyter.
Tyrrik’s Drae reflexes stopped us from hurtling into the rocks. Instead, Tyrrik absorbed the impact of us, and of course, he was the first one on his feet. He offered Dyter a hand, letting me get up on my own. Perhaps put off by my scowl in response to his twitching lips.
“You’re okay,” I said, the tightness in my chest lessening as I buried myself in Dyter’s one-armed embrace.
“My girl,” Dyter said, choking on the words. He clung to me, patting my head, my back, and my hair.
I wasn’t sure if it was his body or mine that shook, but after the second drip of moisture hit my head, I realized Dyter was crying. A lump clogged my throat and I wiped away my own tears, pulling away just enough so I could see him.
“You’re a gruesome sight,” I said, my voice thick.
His skin was filthy with soot, the tracks from his tears leaving streaks down his grizzly face. His dark-blue aketon was torn and singed on the bottom hem. His stump was red and raw, but he grinned as if welcoming me to work at The Crane’s Nest back in Verald.
“I’m glad to see you’re al’right.” He glanced at Tyrrik and added, “Both of you.”
My eyes welled again, and I pulled tight for another hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
I couldn’t lose him. Not ever.
King Zakai appeared in the shadowed entrance of a doorway I hadn’t noticed until that moment. A closer look showed me how the heavy stone door seemed to meld with the mountainside.
Zakai’s complexion was wane, his thick brows drawn over shadow-rimmed eyes. But when his gaze met mine, his shoulders relaxed and his eyes sparked.
“Most Powerful Drae,” he said, the corners of his lips softening from their frown. “Welcome back to Gemond. We’re immensely relieved to see you.”
I felt Tyrrik’s pride through our bond and was grateful he had the decency to not say told-you-so.
There are some things too sacred to make light of.
Zakai gestured us inside, and as Dyter and I neared the threshold into the mountain, I noticed the numerous archers lining the wall, backs to the mountain, scanning the outside landscape, bows and filled quivers nearby. More gold-plated guards stood at attention, their bodies pressed to the wall as they gazed through tiny murder holes.
Dyter wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned over and asked, “Were they going to shoot us?”
My old friend grunted. “They’re like the young pups in Seven. At least they have a few wise, old men who can count and tell the difference between blue, black, and green.”
Right. Good thing that.
Zakai led us farther into the mountain, but we were angling upward instead of returning to the areas I was familiar with. I didn’t want to ask, but for some morbid reason, I had to know . . . “Did Gemond lose many?”