Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(67)

My mouth dried as the door opened, and I spun in the middle of the space as two Azulis walked through the entry. I waited for one of them to gasp or shout when they noticed me, and I morphed my talons in anticipation. I was so consumed in the moment I couldn’t even hear Tyrrik. I could do this. I could do this.

But their conversation didn’t even falter.

Relief, both mine and Tyrrik’s, flooded me. I nearly snorted aloud but settled for a shake of my head. Phaetyn veil—I wasn’t sure if the thought was mine or Tyrrik’s, but neither of us cared.

I side-stepped to let them pass by and then trailed in their wake as they crossed the space to the shelves and then disappeared. I sank into a crouch.

I was close enough to the edge to see that the room was a veiling balcony, and a thin path ran either way, giving access to the bookshelves lining the walls around the room’s perimeter. The space below had a glass ceiling. I peeked around the corner of the bookshelves and saw the two Azulis men walking down a small, spiraling stairwell, and I grinned.

I think I found my way to you.

Tyrrik’s attention was fixed on the Gemondian prince. Zarad and Gairome were arguing about visiting the harbormaster while they had the chance. Nielub, Niemoj, Tyrrik, and Dilowa were trying to explain why the idea was unwise.

Feeling a little sheepish because what I was doing might be called that, I duck walked—still in my crouch—to the balustrade of the balcony and pressed my face between two of the pillars to glance down.

The balcony looked down upon a room below, circular like the rest of the area, but a thick layer of glass covered the space underneath the balcony where I huddled. Whoa. That’s why I hadn’t heard anything. The muffled murmurs were only just discernible now.

I frowned, shifting my position to see more. Lots of people down there, Azulis judging by the fabric they wore. From my current angle, I couldn’t make out more.

I swallowed, debating my next move. But I could feel Tyrrik now, and he was closer, so I slowly stood, torn between wondering if I was moronic, courageous, or hopefully safe with my Phaeytn veil on. Maybe a mixture. I gripped the edge of the balustrade and, with only as much of my head showing as necessary, peeked over the side.





26





Queen Mily was in the room below as was another woman who looked vaguely familiar, probably one of the many courtiers I wished I could scrub from my memory. I grimaced, trying to make sense because the other courtier held the crown and then leaned over the queen and laughed. Queen Mily, still in her party dress, had her hands cuffed behind her back. Several other Azuli’s were lined up too. I could feel Draedyn’s power and mentally added several additional layers to my veil. I panned my vision back from the two women and saw him.

I stared at my father, never having seen him in his human form. His hair was dark brown, almost black, but the sunlight picked up the burnt umber’s reddish hue. His face was angular and skin pale, probably from living in a cave. He had to be hundreds if not thousands of years old, and yet he appeared only a few years older than Tyrrik. The Azulis around him fidgeted incessantly as if subconsciously they knew. Prey had a natural instinct to run from their predators, and Draedyn was all predator. They were nothing, and deep down, they knew it. He sat, one leg crossed over the other, in an everyday wooden seat. He didn’t wear an aketon. He wore no trousers or boots, no hose or belt. He wore a misshapen, unadorned knee-length and sleeveless tunic. To call the garb a tunic was even a stretch. The garment was at odds with his angular and sharp appearance, and I couldn’t understand the intentional juxtaposition of it. He thrived on power. He’d killed thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands over the millennia. Why was he dressed like a pauper? Wouldn’t he want sleek clothes to match his cruel heart? Not look as though he’d crawled out of a cave?

I tore my gaze from the conundrum and massive threat of my father, and I choked back a gasp.

Kamini!

I leaned farther over the railing, inching my hand to cover my mouth. Kamoi was down there, too, standing in front of the two other Phaetyn who’d been taken. They were corralled at the far end of the room, near the base of another spiral stairwell.

Pulling back, I huddled behind the pillars of the railing once more, mind working frantically.

Mistress Moons. Lani’s family was down there. I lifted my head. Could I save them? I had my Phaetyn veil on, but the emperor was there. Was an attempt to rescue them now too risky? Yes. There were too many down there for the disappearance of four Phaetyn prisoners to go unnoticed. And how would I get them out? We could still be caught though invisible.

I shook my head, realizing the effort at this point was futile.

Someone screamed below, and I jumped and then huddled over the banister again. My stomach clenched as I saw several Azulis fighting Druman captors. The mules rounded up dozens of the scantily clad humans, herding them into a corner, and then drew large swords.

Shock seized me, rendering me immobile, and I gasped, screaming silently as the Druman slaughtered the Azulis. Blood sprayed, and I closed my eyes, bile burning the back of my throat. In my mind’s eye, I heard Arnik screaming my name. Nightmares from that past moment solidified in my mind and left me momentarily reeling.

Ryn. Tyrrik trembled to avoid shifting and was only vaguely aware of Gairome and Zarad leaving, but through Tyrrik’s eyes, I saw the prince and his first storm off.

I’m coming to you, Tyrrik said, moving in a blur.