Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(46)

Just outside the tent. On the left.

I huffed. I can’t believe you left me.

I can see the tent from here, I could burn both of them to a crisp in seconds, and I’m watching our bond. Draedyn won’t sneak past. You know I’d never abandon you. Besides, you’re invincible, remember?

Oh yeah, I forget that sometimes. An evil emperor taking over my mind helped with that forgetfulness. A lot.

Just be careful with the boys. Zakai and Zarad said they’re the best they have.

I looked at the two young men. One was grinning as he murmured something to the other. They both chuckled as they sat on the ground, shucking corn. The grinning one caught me staring and held out an ear of corn, the husk already removed. “Do you want some?” He wiggled the vegetable at me. “Best corn I ever ate.”

Beyond the guards, where the clearing had been, was a garden. A vegetable garden, with no rhyme or reason to the plants’ order, fruits of my labor before sleeping last night.

I couldn’t stop the curiosity bursting inside. What had I grown? Was there enough for everyone? Honestly, it wasn’t my biggest work . . .

Quality over quantity, that was my new motto. At least until the war was over.

I stepped out of the tent and slipped my feet into my boots. And stared.

Vines surrounded the tent—no, they were grasses, only they were mutant forms of the mountainous vegetation. The thick blades were over an inch in circumference, and at least ten feet in length. Two sunflowers lay on the ground, their stalks as thick as my wrist, the blooms three feet in diameter.

“Lord Tyrrik said you’d want to see,” one of the twins said, his voice softer than the one who’d offered me the corn.

I nodded my thanks, not grateful at all as I stared at the growth I’d created, knowing at least some of it was grown with the intention to kill Tyrrik. The back of my throat burned with shame, and I swallowed it down, disgusted not only with my father but myself.

I was too weak to keep Draedyn out of my head again. That made it twice by my count. And both times, someone got hurt. I had to figure this out.

I accepted the corn from the smiling twin and sat next to the not-smiling twin. Corn, zucchini, and tomatoes had all been picked over, and many of the plants trampled underfoot. In the back of the clearing, a pumpkin sat, untouched. Hmm. Should I take offense to that? Did they think everyone could make pumpkins grow overnight? It wasn’t the small size putting them off, was it?

Grumbling a little, I bit into the corn, sweet and crisp, but the normal thrumming of joy and pride in my chest after growing something amazing remained absent as I looked over the patch of food.

“Lord Tyrrik said you could shoot those vines straight through a Druman’s guts,” Smiley said.

Smiley had a morbid streak. I glanced at him and held his gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Niemoj,” he said, raising his brows.

I shifted on the grass, blinked, and took another bite of my corn. I wasn’t really sure how to make small talk right now. What I wanted to do was crawl in a corner and hide. If I couldn’t protect my mind from Draedyn, I wasn’t an asset to our army. I was a liability. If I could turn against my mate, I could easily turn on the others fighting for us. Tyrrik was strong enough to withstand an attack. I couldn’t hurt him, really. But what if I’d attacked one of the guards last night? Dyter? The king or prince? I might’ve killed someone.

Maybe I shouldn’t be heading into this battle. Maybe I should listen to my fear and hide.

The silence extended way past the awkward stage.

Niemoj said, “My name means not mine. My brother”—he pointed at his twin—“is Nielub. It means unloved.”

I blinked at them in disbelief. “You’re kidding. That’s . . .” Awful. No, wait. Manners. I scratched my eyebrow and said, “That’s . . . unique.”

Niemoj laughed, throwing his head back, and even Nielub the non-smiler grinned.

“My mother’s family was from the Slav range on the northern border of Azule. Their tradition was to give their babies a substitute name for the first decade of life. If children lived past ten, then they received a different name.”

I realized my mouth was open and closed it, but I couldn’t help staring at him, completely dumbfounded. All I knew of Azule was that they were the fishing community and the kingdom closest to the empire.

I asked the only question that made sense. “They lost a lot of babies to illness?”

He pursed his lips, eyes squinting as he considered my question. “Perhaps. Probably not any more than most areas though.”

“Then why . . .” I didn’t even know how to ask. The practice seemed cruel.

“Because the community was on the border of Azule and Gemond,” Niemoj said as if that were explanation enough. When I raised my eyebrows, he added, “Emperor Draedyn has a different relationship with those of Azule, or at least he did in the stories my mother told us.”

Really, I needed to know more about the other two kingdoms. If I’d asked more questions before we went to Kanahele o keola, I would’ve been more prepared for the insanity we encountered. And if I’d asked more about Gemond, I might not have made assumptions about Zakai being evil. Though I’d been a bit anti-all-rulers there for a while. Right now, my ignorance about the ins and outs of my powers and the familial bond with Draedyn was threatening to overwhelm me. There wasn’t space for anything else.