Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(87)

So lashing out here wouldn’t help me right now.

I sneered back at the Druman and had the satisfaction of witnessing a quiver of uncertainty momentarily unsettle his smirking fa?ade. If the emperor wasn’t his father, the Druman wouldn’t stand a chance, and we both knew it.

Druman got off on violence at the best of times, but my father’s minions could be a real danger to me if they became vindictive like Jotun, jealous of Draedyn’s attention on me. While Irdelron had raised Tyrrik’s Druman to be violent, Jotun’s jealousy drove him to be excessively cruel. Though my half-bros couldn’t kill me, if they managed to pin or tie me down, I could be tortured for a long time, possibly eternity, if properly restrained.

My angst and frustration morphed to simmering anger as the Druman continued to loom around the outskirts of the room in silence, smirking, leering—grunting like animals, filthy and vile.

Instigating a fight wouldn’t help me right now, so clenching my fists, I stepped to go around the two blocking the door. After the day I’d had, if I couldn’t obliterate my father, I needed the privacy of my chamber. Or even just a plain ol’ empty corner would do.

The two Druman shifted, continuing to bar my way.

“Not a great idea,” I said, clenching my teeth. “If you don’t move, I’ll have to kill you.” If I hadn’t been itching to sink my talons into them, the extension of my father, I may have tried harder to restrain myself. I wanted to fight, to do anything I could to hurt him, and the Druman had fought for him and would again at his whim. Destroying a few now would be less to kill later. I leaned forward and whispered, “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or do you move as slow as you speak?”

Instigator? Yeah, just like my mum. Before my Drae transformation, I couldn’t fathom Jotun’s supernatural speed. Now, craving vengeance, my mind seemed to process their movements as if in slow motion. One raised his arm, lifting the end of his spear, and the other swung wide with his fist closed as I instinctively knew their trajectories. Aiming for my crotch and my face! Dirty move.

I wouldn’t have felt bad killing them before, but the talons were out now.

I crouched and stepped left, evading the strike, and grabbed the Druman’s spear. I yanked on the staff, and when he held fast, I jerked upward, snapping off a large piece. Spinning back toward the first mule, I plucked his dagger from his waist and sliced through the meaty part of my forearm. I turned the blade and sliced again and then dipped the jagged piece of wood into my blood before shoving it into the stomach of the Druman still holding the other end of the spear.

Kicking the now seizing mule to the side, I faced the rest of my foes with a grim smile. I had no idea how my instincts had improved, but I knew they had. Not only could I do this, I would.

Several of the other Druman drew weapons, and others tensed, but I had no time to analyze their hesitation.

To my left, the one who’d thrown the first punch reached for me, and I slid closer, taking advantage of the proximity to slit his throat.

He screamed, a gutteral bellow, and doubled over before slumping to the ground. Bent to retrieve the shortened spear, I dragged it over the closing wound and buried it in another Druman’s solar plexus.

My rage flared, and I ducked under a heavy swing and thrust the knife into the Druman’s armpit.

The sound of weapons being drawn made me smile because it indicated their admission to the fray of death. I yanked the blade from the dying Druman and sliced through my arm again. I would kill them all, every single one of them. For me, for the female Drae, the captured Phaetyns in this palace, and for the whole realm. These dark creatures had no place here.

I threw my head back and roared, a combination of challenge issued and accepted as the thrill of the fight burst through me. I yanked the broken spear from the Druman’s stomach, dipped it in my oozing wound, and then I spun and hurled the poisoned weapon. The wooden weapon grazed a mule before bouncing off the far wall. Not perfect, but death was death.

I was done waiting for them to come to me, done taking them one by one, so I moved. Twisting and spinning, I wound between the Druman, grunting when one of their hits connected, but my adrenaline sang with singular focus as I drew the dagger across their skin, poisoning them with my blood.

Phaetyn blood.

It would kill their Drae side. Some would die from their wounds now, but those that weren’t lucky would live, like Jotun, to be torn apart by those they’d abused. Justice.

I spun and cut, dipping the blade into my blood before striking at a Druman. Over and over. I sprinted around the room, knowing time was short, knowing I had to get to as many as possible before . . .

A roar shook the foundation of the palace.

Those still standing, including me, froze. The floor was littered with spasming Druman, black webs spreading beneath their skin as my Phaetyn blood poisoned them. Only three remained, and I leapt to finish them.

Pain exploded all down my right side, and bright lights burst behind my eyes. The momentary reprieve of being pushed through the room ended as I collided with a wall. Draedyn was my first and only thought as I crashed faster and harder into the graphite wall on the opposite side of the room. My mind couldn’t fathom the speed, and had a human watched, I doubted they would have seen anything until I fell from the wall to the ground in a crumpled, albeit smiling, heap.

Dad wasn’t happy with me. He picked me up by the back of my neck like a kitten.