Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(85)

Draedyn sauntered over to the writhing female kicked Draelyz over the edge of the balcony.

I stared at the spot where she’d disappeared, listening to the flap of her clothing as her body fell below. How could he—

Draedyn straightened with a deep inhale and looked at me with bright eyes. “Before you ask, no, that is not my favorite method of execution. There is something inherently satisfying to seeing heads roll, but I have to work around my limitations.”

How could he kill another Drae? How was that even—

“Possible?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Technically, heir-daughter, I’m not delivering a killing blow. The Druman, who you’ll recall do not have such limitations, can wield a blade with Phaetyn blood to kill a Drae, and I’m merely pushing the Drae over the edge. The ground and the Phaetyn blood are doing the killing.”

My stomach churned, and I averted my gaze, desperate to not lose my dinner. I locked on my aunt’s panicked face. Drak.

“Now,” Draedyn said. “It’s your turn.”

“My turn for what?” I asked. He was going to kill me too?

“Draeryn has not only betrayed me but you, her kin as well. She deserves to die.” He frowned as if considering his next words and then added, “She deserves much worse, but I’m willing to forgo the torture to watch you take revenge.”

I glanced at the Druman, but none of them even moved. I stared at the unmoving mules and then at my father who merely raised his eyebrows, as if waiting . . . I shook my head, bile rising in my chest. “I won’t.”

A slow, cruel smile spread over his face. “You will.”

I braced myself for the mind-invasion, only it didn’t come. Aunt Ryn frowned, and I glanced at my father.

“You’re not going to make me?” I asked, scooting closer to my aunt, and then thinking better of it, I backed away. “You’re not going to take over and make me?”

He shook his head. “Then I would be doing it, not you.”

Something about the way he said it made me more nervous, not less.

Ryn remained on her knees, tears falling down her cheeks.

“No,” he said. “But I can force you in some ways.”

My nails on both hands elongated, becoming deadly blades, and I quickly flung my arms behind my back even as my fangs extended and my eyes narrowed to Drae slits. I fought his control over my body, but the tips of my talons bit through my skin.

“There now, all ready,” he said.

I shook my head, refusing to do what he wanted as long as I was in control.

“No?” he asked. “Then you can watch. If you’d acted, you could’ve spared her this.”

A blast of his energy hit me in the chest, expelling the air from my lungs and pushing me against a Druman. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me still. I turned my head away, and another Druman forced my head back toward my aunt and my father. I closed my eyes.

“Even if you do not watch, you will hear every cut, every scream, every time my talons run against her bones. And you will know, heir, you could have spared her pain if you’d acted.”

He was right. I could’ve given her mercy. I couldn’t even shake my head, so I spat. “Don’t blame me for your actions. You’re the one killing her, regardless.”

“Killing? I’m not killing her. I can’t. But you could have. So don’t blame me for your inaction,” he replied, his tone no more riled than if we were discussing the weather.

Ryn screamed, and I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes. Another scream, and another. I whimpered with her, but refused to look as Draedyn mutilated and tortured her.

“Please,” she begged. “Ryn, please.”

I choked on my refusal of a few minutes prior, filled with a new awareness and even a small amount of appreciation for why Tyrrik had moved so quickly when killing Arnik so long ago. Her wet, strangled cries continued, until I couldn’t take her suffering any longer. “Al’right,” I shouted. “I’ll do it.”

The Druman released me, and I collapsed to the dark stone, pounding it with my fist. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision, and I let them fall unchecked, hoping they would obscure a bit of the torture Draedyn had inflicted on my aunt already.

I hadn’t even had time to know her.

I struggled to my feet and raised my gaze, hunching back over as I threw up all over the balcony.

The tang of Ryn’s blood saturated the area, and when I stood upright, I was more prepared—if that was even possible—to see my aunt’s flayed body suspended by Draedyn’s grip. His hand was buried in her hair, and she dangled limply in the air. Her chest still moved. She was alive, and her wounds were slowly knitting back together.

“Do I have to cut off her head?” I asked him, choking on another sob.

Draedyn shrugged, and my aunt’s body swayed. Her eyelids fluttered, and her bloodied lips moved in incoherent pleas.

“I don’t care how you do it.”

A mercy. That’s what Tyrrik had said, and now I could see it. My talons emerged again, and I whispered to my aunt, “I’m so sorry, Aunt Ryn. Go to the stars and be with your sisters. Please tell my mother I love her.”

I sliced into my leg, and Draedyn watched, transfixed. “Yes,” he said, his voice filled with eager anticipation. “Taste the reward of vengeance, daughter.”