Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(64)

Ten minutes later, we were all back at the same place without Dyter. I was officially done. He’s not here, I told Tyrrik. Which means it’s possible to get out. If I have to fly out the window—

“But what are you all doing?” Queen Mily asked, appearing out of freakin’ nowhere. “Are you not enjoying the party?”

She was doing my head in, creative use of emeralds aside. Did anyone really want to see that much of her anatomy? Neimoj’s eyes were huge, so I guess someone was enjoying her peep-show.

Should we ask her about Dyter?

Do you think she would even know if something else was going on?

Maybe. Probably not. But still . . . Will you breathe on her and ask?

Tyrrik leaned over me and blew a breath at the queen.

Her eyes widened, and she smiled dreamily at Tyrrik as she swayed forward.

“Do you know where Dyter is?” he asked, straightening. He pulled me in front of him so I would buffer the queen.

She shook her head. “No, but he’s going to use my boats in the morning. You could meet him at the docks then.” She shimmied, shaking, well everything, and said, “Will you lie with me and let me bear your children?”

Someone coughed, and I elbowed Tyrrik for using so much of his Drae breath on her. I actually didn’t like that he was using it at all.

I turned to the Azuli queen and, channeling my best inner Dyter, said, “Nope. We’re weary after our travels, Queen Mily. Have one of your servants show us to a chamber to rest, please?”

“No, you must—”

I growled, my Drae canine’s lengthening as I narrowed my eyes. Now I was done. Tired, worried, and completely over watching the bizarre and sick sex show. Not to mention her hitting on my mate. Dyter could be pissed at me later. “I must what?”

Her eyes widened, and her smile faded. Her shoulders sagged, and even her breasts seemed to droop a little. She dipped her head with the first serious expression I’d seen on her face yet. She looked at Tyrrik longingly. “I apologize. I wasn’t thinking. Of course, you must be weary after your journey. Tonte!” She waved to a man who approached her and bowed. “Take our guests to our finest chambers. Get them anything they need. I’m holding you personally responsible to ensure they’re comfortable.”

The servant bowed, and I returned the queen’s nod, still aware she’d be sending boats to collect enough men to double our current army. “Thank you, Queen Mily. I hope you have a happy birthday.”

Several members of our group snickered, but Tyrrik was smarter and swept my hand up in his as we followed the servant out of the sex-fest. As we moved farther away from the party chamber, fewer people graced the halls, and fewer giggles reached my ears from the dark nooks.

We turned down an empty corridor, and Tyrrik and I shared a glance.

He looks smarter than his queen.

Yep, I replied. Definitely.

Tyrrik blurred forward to the servant. The man reared back into the wall, but Tyrrik followed him, blowing a long breath into the servant’s face and then held him against the smoky glass. When the man’s eyes glazed over, Tyrrik asked, “A man who was with our party left the hall. Where is he?”

The servant smiled and swayed toward Tyrrik, puckering for a kiss.

The assassin twins shared a grin, but I couldn’t reply in kind, having been on the receiving end of Tyrrik’s breath before. I didn’t relish taking away this servant’s will, but Dyter trumped anyone and anything.

Did that make us like my father? He’d taken my will away only weeks before, and I shuddered, feeling nauseated with the comparison. Where was the line? How far was too far? When did the ends no longer justify the means? My father clearly had reasons to take over my mind. Why did I feel our reasons were okay but his weren’t? Guilt twisted my insides, and I grimaced.

“Dyter,” Tyrrik said firmly to the servant, evading his mouth with an expert dodge that attested to how many times he’d had to do it.

The man nodded, a sloppy grin plastered on his face as he stroked Tyrrik’s cheek. The servant then pivoted on one heel and marched back the way we’d come.

“Someone needs to go in ahead of me,” I whispered to the group.

“Don’t want to see Dyter doing it?” Nielub asked.

“Oddly enough, no,” I replied, shivering. “Would you want to see your mom playing cards?”

Niemoj frowned. “Playing cards?”

“What are you—” Nielub started to ask but cut off when Tyrrik glared at him.

The servant veered to the right, down a hallway less than half the size of where we’d been. The distance between torches more than doubled, and our group was forced into pairs in the narrow space.

“Anyone notice this hall seemed dark and generally foreboding?” Dilowa asked.

Yep, I silently agreed. But I’d learned there were worse things in life—like well-lit rooms full of naked people.

The servant took a left and then opened an opaque glass door flush to the wall that blended perfectly with the glass of the palace.

Niemoj held the door open, and I glanced back at Tyrrik who was just behind me and then pointed at the rickety stairs leading up. There was only enough room for us to go up in single file.

I don’t like it, Tyrrik said. Something feels off.

Obviously. There was nothing about Azule I liked, and everything felt off. But the servant is under your breath mojo.