Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(53)

“Okay, Ryn,” I grunted, wiping away the sweat trickling down the side of my forehead.

Keeping the right side of the veil where it was, I took a mental hold on the other side, still in the middle of the encampment, and began to nudge it toward the left. I’d been covering more and more of the army each night. But when they were like this, all in one neat and much smaller spot, covering them seemed almost achievable. Half an hour to concentrate? I could get almost eighty or ninety percent. No problem.

Zarad was drilling the army daily, forcing them to congregate into a small space in case Draedyn attacked. I was the limiting factor because I wouldn’t have thirty minutes to erect my defense.

I panted, my nudges to the veil much more like shoves by now—out, out, out.

I trained my eyes on the glistening edge to the left. This invisibility cloak felt like it was about to snap and was still short of covering the army. Nope. It’s all good. Just hold it here for a bit. I could usually push it a little more after that—like leaning down to stretch the backs of my thighs.

I breathed in and out, focusing on the veil.

When the tension dissipated slightly, I shimmied the power to cover more of the left flank and held it there again, shifting the veil out another few feet when it relaxed. On the next hold, the tension didn’t dissipate. At all.

I rolled my neck and told myself I should try again. Maybe at the end of the night. I brought the veil inward until I was the only thing inside its protection and then glanced over the army. I was getting better. I’d have to find a way to practice while we left the mountains. Our small envoy party would be leaving in the morning for Azule.

Al’right. Next.

Placing both hands on the ground, I focused on a tiny shrub wedged between two boulders before me. Building the pressure like water held back by a dam, I let the moss-green Phaetyn power accumulate inside my hands without release, staring at the shrub. The dam burst, and the power exploded from my fingertips. I grinned as a thick, pointed root as tall as Tyrrik shot out from the ground like a spear.

Druman-killing-root-practice done. Cracking my knuckles, I shifted my butt on the rock and then adjusted my blanket. Think fast, Ryn. I held my Phaetyn veil in place, reached for my blue Drae tendrils of power, and whipped them around my head until I’d coiled them into a solid covering. Diamond shell, diamond shell, diamond shell. I could practically feel my power getting tougher.

With my Phaetyn cloak and diamond helmet, I was invisible to everyone and everything. And I was thankful for that invisibility because my helmet and cloak had to look absolutely, freakin’ ridiculous.

I continued to focus on my powers, on keeping them solid and tuning out everything else around me: soft sighs, not-so-soft snores, the scrape of boots on stone as the sentries moved about, the fluttering of the tent flaps.

Then I dropped all of it, the cloak and the helmet.

And repeated.

Again and again and again.

Because one day, this would have to be enough.





The crisp mountain air did nothing to cool my anxiety; it crawled over my skin and, even in my Drae form, made my stomach churn. The plan was to leave for Azule today, but Lani and the Phaetyn were still nowhere to be seen. This was my third flight in search of her gold veil, and it would have to be my last. Our last. Keeping my Drae shield wrapped around my mind and my Phaetyn veil in place were easier now, but we were running out of time to beat the army to Azule.

I’m going to land.

Why? Do you see them? Tyrrik asked, swinging his head toward me.

No. But see those trees over there? I tilted my chin toward the small copse of evergreens. Maybe the trees out here will talk to me like they did in Zivost.

Gone were the days where I would consider talking to trees the height of crazy.

Clever. Tyrrik followed my lead, and we banked hard within the moss-green confines of my Phaetyn veil, dropping altitude fast due to the limited flat area on the slope where we intended to land. I touched down on the gray shale, Tyrrik landing behind me. The mountain side plateau where we’d perched was just large enough to contain us. In front, the level space was bordered with a dozen tall evergreens clustered together.

The area felt bigger as soon as we shifted—for obvious reasons.

With Tyrrik still by my side, I strode forward, wove my way to the base of the trunk of the tallest tree, and put my hands to the rough bark, kindly asking to speak with Lani.

I frowned and glanced at Tyrrik. “Nothing,” I said. “It’s not working.”

Tyrrik grimaced. “Have you ever tried to talk to the trees outside of Zivost?”

“No. But Lani said it didn’t matter as long as I was in my Phaetyn form.”

“Try covering the tree with your Phaetyn-mojo,” he said with a cheeky grin.

You’re hysterical. I actually thought the word mojo on his lips was pretty funny.

I tuned into my duo powers. The last three days, I’d done my best to keep the Phaetyn veil and Drae shield up as much as possible while awake. By the time I went to bed, I’d crash, but I was better at maintaining both simultaneously.

I expanded the moss-green veil to cover the tree and tried to converse with it again. “Nope.”

Was Lani wrong about how this worked? Was she okay? Had something happened to the Phaetyn? We needed them, especially if Zakai’s numbers regarding Druman were correct. Good ole Pops had fathered a lot of mules, and we couldn’t take them Druman-to-human. Not without the Phaetyn’s help.