Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(35)

Zakai looked at his son and the other Gemondian leaders. “Then circulate the notice: we leave at daybreak.”

Several of the men and women filed out, and I glanced at Tyrrik. The Drae was listening to Dyter and Zakai—or at least looking at them intently.

Are you coming? I asked.

Go do your . . . mojo in the garden; you’ll feel better after it’s done, and I should fill Zakai and Dyter in on everything that happened in Phaetynville.

I snorted. You know, it has a name. A real name.

Yes, love. Go grow the people some food. You need to leave everyone who will remain enough to survive until we return.

Even after pouring my green Phaetyn powers into the veggie patches of the royal gardens for several hours, I wasn’t satisfied with the result. The elderly and children were going to have a hard time if the war was ongoing. Who knew how long we’d be away.

I sighed heavily. I needed to go outside and reverse as much of the damage there as possible. That was the root of my discontent.

I stopped at the gardens, gathering two bags of huge pumpkin seeds as well as other fruits, vegetables, and even a few dozen nuts. It wasn’t enough to fill the land, but it would get them started.

My heart fell as I strode through the kingdom doors and saw the damage. I’d expected the gray haze to still be masking the ruin, but the rain had poured through the smoke from the sky while I was inside, catching the haze in its droplets and forcing it to the ground.

Everything was black and charred. No life remained here.

This is something I can fix.

I shifted and carefully took both bags in my front talons. Launching this way was harder than usual, but minutes later, I soared over the blackened earth, scattering the seeds into the ash.

I purposely left my Phaetyn veil off, knowing Draedyn would feel I was back. I wanted him to know there were Drae here who would fight against him for the people of Gemond. When I returned to the entrance, I sat outside the doors and did as I had in Verald before leaving, pumping my Phaetyn energy into the ground, willing the land to heal and the seeds to grow.

I thought of big pumpkins, large enough for Tyrrik to stand in, and potatoes the size of goats. I willed the fruit trees to blossom, hoping we weren’t too late in the year for the bees to pollinate them, but what did I know? I spent a lot of time on the nut trees. And then the grapes, pinot gris, like the ones Arnik spent hours working with—because we’d need wine to celebrate when we won the war.

I felt the sun warm my skin. The rain had stopped, but I didn’t bother moving. The rays filtered through the canopy above, and I breathed in the verdant smell of a late summer afternoon after heavy rain.

“Are you done?” Tyrrik asked.

I’d felt his presence draw closer, and I smiled, my eyes still closed. I patted the ground next to me as I sat up, and unable to resist looking at my mate, I opened my eyes.

“Holy Pancakes!” I gasped.

Tyrrik stood before me, his hand extended, admiration in his dark eyes. Behind him was an oasis of flourishing growth, stretching out into the valley almost as far as I could see. I took his hand, but my gaze was riveted on the flora. “I think that’s your pumpkin,” I whispered in awe as I pointed at a squash the size of my old house in Verald. “Right there.”

Tyrrik glanced over his shoulder. “I said I like your potatoes better.”

I nodded, my gaze sweeping over the growth, and pointed at the leaves of a potato plant. “You can dig a couple up over here then.”

I grinned with deep satisfaction. I was no longer the soap queen. I was Ryn, Potato Queen, destined to feed thousands. I was moving up in the world.

I lay back down as Tyrrik dug up two potatoes. He dusted off his hands after fifteen minutes. Yep, they were totally bigger than goats.

The sun disappeared over the mountaintops, and I sighed, feeling guilty for having fun and for feeling joy while Kamini and Kamoi were in danger because of me and while a battle loomed on the horizon.

“There’s always a reason to enjoy what life gives you,” Tyrrik said.

He lowered the two boulder-sized potatoes speared on his talons and then retracted his natural weapons before pulling me into his arms.

“Let’s have dinner,” he said, nuzzling my neck. “With candles.”

“Will you light the candles with your Drae fire?” I asked.

His tongue traced my feathering pulse, the warmth and moisture shooting trembling pleasure low in my stomach. He kissed my ear, tracing the outer part first before sucking my lobe into his mouth, his teeth grazing the soft skin.

“And then,” he whispered, guiding me backward until I was sandwiched between him and the mountain, “I want to be the reason for your joy.”

He pressed his body into mine, making me gasp as his hips molded against mine. A heavy ache for him had me instinctively pushing back.

“I want to be all you think about,” he said, trailing kisses down my neck. He pulled the neck of my aketon open and brushed his stubble along my collarbone, trailing his nose up my neck on the other side, inhaling deeply.

I moaned and leaned closer, my hands gripping his waist as I circled my hips against him.

“I want to be one with you, both body and mind. I want you to know how much I love you.”

My mind, hazy once again, thought only of him as the rest of the world fell away.

“Tyrrik,” I begged. Mate.