Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(52)

“I’d like to represent Verald,” Dyter said.

King Zakai glanced at his son. “Zarad will represent Gemond, and I would like Commander-General Gairome and Commander Dilowa to accompany him.”

“Someone will represent the Phaetyn,” I hastily threw in. “I’d like to convince Queen Lani to remain behind if she’ll agree, in case Draedyn attacks. She’ll be able to veil the entire army. I’ll go scout for her before we leave. She can’t be far away.”

Dyter blew out a breath as those in the tent quieted, each of us staring at the map. “Decades of blood, sweat, and hunger,” he said. “We’ve waited a long time for this to come together.”

I thought of the Penny Wheel where I grew up. How normal hunger had been for me and starvation for most everyone else. I thought of the meetings Dyter held in his tavern and Arnik’s blazing ideas of rebellion that had ended too abruptly. The assassins I’d met this morning had dedicated their lives to better the world. Every person in this tent, every person in this realm, had lost something to the emperor.

My gaze traced the ink lines of the Azule kingdom on the map, northwest of our current position. Dyter was right: every person in this room had paid their taxes to Emperor Draedyn in blood, sweat, and hunger.

We’re getting closer, Tyrrik said, staring at the same spot on the map.

Yes. I took a deep breath. We are.





20





“Khosana,” Tyrrik murmured, shaking my shoulder.

I groaned, rolling onto my back as I considered, possibly, maybe, opening my eyes. The sleeping roster was a pain in my Most-Important-Drae butt. This was the worst, when I’d only caught a few hours because of staying up all day.

“Sleep longer,” Tyrrik said, removing his hand.

I groaned again. Tyrrik was at least as exhausted as me and still offering to keep watch. He’d let me sleep the entire night. Again.

I dragged my eyelids apart and blinked up at him through bleary eyes. “No, I’m awake.” I scrubbed my face with both hands. “I’m awake. I’m awake.”

He lay down beside me and pulled me to him, my back to his chest, and kept his arm wrapped around my waist.

“Anything interesting?” I mumbled.

He stretched the collar of my chemise and kissed my shoulder. “Nothing.”

I sighed and turned to kiss him, threading my hands through his black hair. He pulled me close, the blankets tangling between us. The worst thing about the sleeping roster was that it didn’t allow time for playing cards or dancing the maypole. And Romantic-Ryn definitely wanted a repeat of our game-time in Gemond.

Although, perhaps not in a tent in the middle of an army.

I brushed my tongue against Tyrrik’s one last time and then pulled away to breathe. Because that was important and oddly easy to forget when I was kissing my mate.

I peeled back the blankets and got on my hands and knees. Focusing, I slowed my breathing and concentrated. I blinked as my eyes narrowed to slits and the objects in the dark tent gained definition.

Using my Drae eyes, I quickly located my aketon and hose.

“You’re getting faster,” Tyrrik said, followed by a yawn.

At least I was getting better at something because that something certainly didn’t feel like my Phaetyn veil and Drae shield. I was still too slow at getting them in place if they were down, and still I had to focus to keep them up. “Thanks.”

Tyrrik’s eyes were already closed when I ducked out of our tent. I kept my night vision going and focused on my sense of smell. I’d always found scent easiest to engage; something about it felt more instinctive to my Drae form. Tyrrik said the nose and ears were most instinctive, followed by the eyes. My fangs came and went as they liked, usually in response to anger or the deep yearning low in my stomach I now knew meant I wanted to practice making Drae babies.

I was getting the hang of the eyes now, so next up was talons. I’d wait until the perfect moment then flick out a blue blade. Maybe opening a letter in a meeting. Or chopping up a chicken roast. I had plans. Big plans.

I followed my Drae sense of smell, picking up Tyrrik’s pine and smoke scent immediately. We were camped at the base of a mountain, still within the Gemond ranges. We hadn’t encountered another forest since that first night, just small copses of trees here and there, but I preferred the open space. It meant I could see everyone at once, and when our food supplies ran low, there was still a coating of dirt on the valley floor to grow vegetables.

I traced Tyrrik’s scent to a rock a short way up the mountain, which put me at eye level with the tent tops. Tyrrik always found the best spots. I smiled when I saw the blanket he’d left out for me.

Sitting cross-legged on the flat rock, I scanned the sleeping army, spotting the sentries in their usual places around the perimeter while some of them stood guard part way up the mountainside as I did.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Flexing my mind muscles, I cast my Phaetyn power outward. With my next breath, I opened my eyes and directed the moss-green veil over the tents beneath me, stretching it all the way across the valley. Right. Good. Our tent was central, so I pushed the veil out to the right first, stopping at intervals when my mind felt strained. I kept at it, propelling the blanket-of-invisibility until it reached the outskirts of the right flank.

I paused to catch my breath. What did the sentries think when they peered up and found half of their comrades gone? I mean, we’d warned them after the first time, but still, seeing it had to be strange.