by Wagner, Raye
I stood and glanced around the chamber, but there was no other pool in sight. Perplexed, I called out for my only source of information. “Tyrrik?”
I turned back toward the front of the cave as he stepped into the darkness. My gaze went to the stemmed goblet in his hand. The bejeweled golden goblet, the cup of my dreams. If I got him to hand it over, I wondered if he’d let me keep it. Or maybe I could steal it while he slept. Would he notice? My covetous thoughts made me stop. What the hay is wrong with me? I’d never been envious of people’s wealth before. I’d never been a thief either.
But he kind of owes me.
“Do you need a drink?” he asked, his voice rumbling through the darkness.
“Do you have any nectar?” I asked. “Somehow the pool turned to water. I swear it was nectar before.” Not that I minded water, but I’d much rather have nectar.
If I hadn’t been watching Tyrrik, I would’ve missed his eyes widening as he inhaled.
“Has it never done that to you before? Did I mess something up?” Drak. “Was it my Phaetyn powers?”
That would be just my luck. I was bad at shifting, and now I’d messed with the nectar in the cave.
Tyrrik shook his head, another dubious non-answer. He went to the pool, dipped the cup in, and then took a sip. After swallowing, he asked, “Did you put your hand in there?”
How would that matter? Last night we’d both been lying in it. Or was he implying he was the magic behind the cave nectar, and I’d messed it up by putting my hand in the water? “Yes,” I said, drawing the single syllable out. “Because you had the only cup . . .”
He took another drink, tilting it up until it was almost gone.
“Hey,” I complained, “I want some. Why are you drinking it all?”
He finished his gluttonous chugging of the fluid and said nothing as he dipped the cup back into the pool and brought it to me.
I took a sip and narrowed my eyes at the lingering sweetness on my tongue. “It was water before,” I insisted before draining the goblet. I held the beautiful treasure, but my gaze went to the pool. “If I go over there and dip this in, am I going to ruin it again?”
Tyrrik studied me with pursed lips.
We were back to that again. “You know, I’m pretty much over the whole let’s-keep-secrets-from-Ryn thing. In fact, I think I was really clear yesterday.” Was that only yesterday? “About how I felt. We had a good day today, as far as trust goes, up until now—”
Tyrrik took the goblet from my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. With a gentle tug, he led me to the pool. “It has to do with our kind. How our males and females balance each other’s powers. I can’t make výživa, what you call nectar, for myself; no Drae can. This pool is water until one of us makes nectar for the other.”
“You’ve been making it for me this whole time?” I waited for his nod. “How do you do it?”
A teasing gleam entered his eyes as he waved a finger in the air. “I will it, knowing it will help you heal and replenish your energy. It’s just a matter of wanting that.”
“For another Drae,” I ventured slowly.
He paused before giving a quick jerk of his head.
“So we’re dependent on each other for nectar?” I asked. My thoughts, however, weren’t on how I could never make nectar for myself. All I could think was Tyrrik wouldn’t have had any since his enslavement to Irdelron. I also wasn’t sure I wanted to make it for him. It seemed . . . personal. Too personal.
A slow smile spread across the Drae’s face, his dark eyes lighting. “We’re interdependent.”
He let go of my hand and knelt at the edge of the pool. He dipped the cup into the water, took a sip, and then handed it to me. “More?” It’s an honor to serve you nectar.
My eyes widened at the errant thought, and I hurried to school my features, certain I hadn’t been meant to hear it. I took the goblet, and blinked at the deep sincerity I felt from him as our skin touched. I gulped the nectar to cover the moment, and the sweet drink soothed my throat and nerves, then my aching muscles.
I drank every last drop, even licking the rim.
With a totally straight face, Tyrrik said, “I guess this means you like my nectar.”
I blanched. “You did not just say that.”
Tyrrik cracked a joke? Was the world ending? I thought back to my fake dungeon buddy, Ty, and his funny quips when we were in the dungeon. I supposed Ty was Tyrrik, so . . . It took a few moments for my head to wrap around my altered perspective of the Drae—all the funny quips really came from Tyrrik. If I hadn’t known Ty, fake as he’d been, I would’ve never known Tyrrik had a sense of humor.
He stepped forward until he was in my personal space and wrapped his hands over the jeweled chalice in my grip. “Oh, come on,” he said. “I could’ve said much worse than that.”
My heart pounded, running a race I would never win. “Here,” I said, thrusting the cup into his hands. “I’m good now.”
I fled into the depths of the cave, Tyrrik’s throaty chuckle chasing me. If I were to turn around, I’d see him, but some part of me, a rather large part, was terrified of meeting his eyes and standing too close. Why did I feel so unsure? Was it a Drae power thing? I’d never been unsure around him. At the start, I was so scared I could’ve peed my skirt, but unsure? Never. His place in relation to mine had always been clear and easy to navigate.
I wandered through several caverns, searching for a secure place for my treasure. Plus, I wanted a comfortable place to sleep. I meandered for a while, not in any hurry to get back, looking for somewhere safe. Every room I entered felt off, and eventually, my Drae instincts led me back to the cavern with the pool in it.
Tyrrik was lying in one of the indentations in the wall. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern.
Disappointment and relief pulsed through me, but I told myself it was probably for the best—though what I meant by that I didn’t want to dissect. I paced around the cavern, letting my thoughts unravel the last few days. It wasn’t Tyrrik’s fault my emotions were all over the place or that I was irritable. For being so bodily tired, sleep was the last thing on my mind.
“You still don’t trust me,” he whispered across the darkness.
“Hmm, what?” I responded, deflecting. There were three more indentations in the wall, all three near Tyrrik, which made me all kinds of nervous, but to not go over there would prove his point. I mentally kicked myself, wishing there was a way to block my emotions so he couldn’t read me.
“There is,” he said after a pause. “I’ll teach you tomorrow if you’d like.”
“Will I be able to do it?” I asked, my shoulders sagging. “Or is it going to be like shifting? Because that would kinda defeat the purpose, right? If you had to help me block you.” My weak chuckle trailed off almost instantly. It hadn’t been my best joke.
He shifted, rolling to his side to face me. “What would it take for you to trust me again?”
I grimaced. That question didn’t leave much avoidance wriggle room. “For real?”
Lying in a dug out hole was more appealing than facing Tyrrik, so I crossed the room, feeling his gaze on me. Creeper. I didn’t throw the insult with the same vehemence I had weeks ago. I guess the nectar and his help had softened me. That discovery unnerved me to no small degree. I climbed into the space farthest from him, a whole arm span. At least I could look at the ceiling of my cubby and know his eyes weren’t on me.
“Will you please tell me?” he asked.
I closed my eyes and thought of Tyrrik and our interactions to date. There were many of them if I included the conversations with Ty and Tyr—which I guessed I had to as much as I didn’t want to. Tyrrik must have felt so alone for so long with his only consistent company the twisted Irdelron or a few dozen Druman children Tyrrik had been forced to spawn. The blood oath had caused him excruciating pain, both physical and emotional, for one hundred years, and he’d no hope of escape. Until he found me.
If I were in his situation, I might have been a little desperate to be free too. No matter the cost to others.
“The cost to others was all I thought about,” he corrected, his voice aching with a depth of pain that made my heart hurt.
Relieved, but distrusting, I pressed him. “Why did you lie? The entire time. You lied, played with my emotions, and now, somehow, I feel guilty because I don’t trust you and you want me to. But how can I? How do I know you’re not just playing”—with my heart—“some game again? Or that you have an ulterior motive like last time?”
He sucked in a breath. “You think it was all a lie? You believe that?”
I remembered Tyr’s gentle caress . . . the sweetness of his kiss. I thought of the tears he’d shed while wiping away my blood after Jotun beat me. I recalled the jokes and hope Ty gave me, his companionship. However, through Ty, Tyrrik had betrayed my plans, our plans, for the rebels to free us, the plans he’d helped me make, to Irdelron. Tyrrik had killed Arnik and all of those rebels. The Drae had put so many people in danger . . . even me, so he could break his blood oath.
“So we could be free,” he said. “All of us. Is what I did really any different than what Caltevyn or Dyter did?”
“You hurt me,” I said with difficulty. “A lot.” So much I wondered if I would ever be able to trust anyone again.
I’d always thought I’d be able to tell if someone was lying to my face. I’d seen other people in love before, matches where one partner lied or cheated, and wondered how someone could be blind to their partner’s duplicity. I never thought I’d be one of those blind fools. I never thought I’d love someone with those qualities.
“I did lie. And I hated it. If I could’ve come up with any other way to break the oath, I would’ve.”
His words rang with honesty . . . but then, they’d done that before too. “So you say,” I mumbled, rolling toward the wall. “It’s been less than a week, and I don’t know if I have it in me to forgive that kind of thing. Just don’t deceive me anymore.”
8
A loud roar startled me awake. I sat up, smacking my head on the granite above. Before I could swear loud enough to bring the cave crashing down, a hand covered my mouth.
Be silent, Tyrrik said in my mind. He’s out there.
Who?
Your father.
My father. Emperor Draedyn. Pops. Pretty much the worst being in the entire realm. As a Drae he was all but invincible, like Tyrrik, but much older. More powerful, too, remembering Tyrrik’s comment about the emperor being alpha. As emperor, he had the entire populace at his disposal. His war of expansion had cost the realm countless lives. Are you sure he’s my father? How would you even know that?
Your mother told me. Before she died.
I can’t believe that I’m related to someone who kills so easily . . . or who experimented with Phaetyn and Drae.
He’s desperate enough to win the war that he’ll try anything to create a stronger army.
I took Tyrrik’s hand off my mouth; there was no need for him to force me to be quiet. Before I could release it, he turned his palm to mine and held tight.
The Drae outside roared again, and the darkness of night was suddenly alive with flame, the orange blast stretching a few feet inside our cave.
My heart leaped into my throat, but irritation overrode my fear when Tyrrik squeezed my hand. I lifted our joined hands, shaking them a little. Why are you holding my hand?
It’s better than you screaming.
I was not going to scream. If I did scream, it would be at him.
Are you sure? Because you were the one who took my hand.
I glared at him and withdrew my hand, but he re-captured it, tugging me off the bed. I followed him deeper into the caves as Emperor Draedyn lit up the sky again with a deafening roar of flame.
He’s calling to you.
Really? That took creeper to a whole new level. Like I was a hypnotized donkey or something.
Can’t you feel his call? Tyrrik stopped our hurried escape to study me. His gaze traveled over my face, relief appearing briefly when I shook my head.
If he can feel us, why doesn’t he come in and join us? I didn’t understand what was keeping us safe. The caverns were narrow, but certainly if the emperor shifted back to his human form, he’d be able to chase us.
He can only feel your general location and doesn’t know about these caves. They were discovered by the Drae long after Draedyn left the clan. Our alpha decided we needed new secrets when Draedyn ascended the throne; the old caves were abandoned, and the new ones were a guarded secret for a generation.
A generation? How old is he?
He has been the emperor since before my grandfather was born, but that’s all I remember.
So, at least a few hundred years old. My stomach churned. Why wasn’t anyone Ryn-age? Or even under one hundred?
Tyrrik led me down another corridor.
Where are we going? If I thought about how my sicko father was a million years old, I was going to throw up. I needed Tyrrik to talk to me about something else. Anything else.
The caves will take us halfway to Zivost. We’ll have to fly the rest of the way in the morning and hope Dyter and the Phaetyn are there.
The sneer in his voice when he spoke of Kamoi was unmistakable.
Personally, I felt quite bad about how I’d spoken to the prince when I last saw him. I’d need to explain that the transformation got the better of my temper back there. Hopefully he’d still let me get within staring distance.
Why do you hate Kamoi? I asked.
I don’t hate Kamoi. I hate the way he looks at you.
I heard the trickling of water and threw a quip back. Why? You think I’d like his nectar better?
Tyrrik stopped so suddenly I crashed into him. In one fluid movement, he turned, caught me in his arms, and pulled me to his chest.
Whoa. Easy there, Drae-man. I tried to pull away, but he only loosened his hold fractionally. His heart pounded against mine, and for a brief moment, his want was all I could fathom. Then a veil dropped over his side of our telepathic bond.
Would you? he asked me.
Even in my mind, his voice trembled. I knew my answer was important to him. The retort was on the tip of my tongue, to ask if he was really getting worked up about his nectar being better than Kamoi’s—which as far as I knew, Kamoi couldn’t even make as a Phaetyn—but hadn’t I just thought about how personal making nectar was last night? I don’t know. Kamoi can’t make nectar, can he?
I knew immediately my answer hadn’t been what he was looking for. Removing his grip from my arms, Tyrrik spun without a word and picked up the pace through the caves.
This time leaving my hand dangling at my side.
* * *
“Ryn,” a man’s voice rumbled in my ear. Still caught in my dream, I flailed, and my fist shot up. I came to, listening to Tyrrik’s muffled cursing from where I clipped him.
“You hit me,” he grumbled, stating the obvious.
I blinked the last bit of sleep, and my dream, away. “Sorry, you woke me at a bad moment.”
He dropped his hand from where he rubbed his jaw. “Oh? A good dream?’
“What?” I frowned. “No. A bad one.” The emperor had been chasing us through the caves, and we couldn’t find the end. I yawned loudly, stretching my arms high above my head as I sat, and scowled at Tyrrik when I saw him watching.
The Drae was as fresh as a daisy—if that daisy was dressed in a rumpled black aketon.
After walking through the cave system for most of the night, we’d stopped to sleep close to the back exit. My eyes were scratchy and my shoulder muscles tight. My Phaetyn powers didn’t seem to be healing my Drae side, and I wanted to drink a gallon of nectar and sleep for a week.
“You’ll be able to sleep when we get to Zivost, Khosana.” He touched his jaw again, his gaze thoughtful. “At least for a bit.”
I pouted; he was plotting more for me. I was so tired I couldn�
�t muster the energy to be ashamed of a little lip-droppage. “How much longer? I mean until we get there.”
I wasn’t ready to hear how little rest I’d be granted.
His gaze dropped to my lips, and his reply came out strangled. “One day.”
A whole day. That sounded like ages.
Tyrrik reached into his aketon pocket, drew out a small burlap sack, and then tossed it to me.
Smelling the brak, I tore into the bag as soon as I’d caught it. I stuffed a handful of broken pieces into my mouth then paused and looked in the bag. Empty. I chewed and spoke around my food. “Um, did you want any?”
Tyrrik snorted. “If I do?”
I chewed again, pushing the food to the side of my mouth. “I’m not sure, honestly. I was hoping you’d say no.”
He grinned, teeth flashing white in the dim cave light. From his belt, Tyrrik unhooked a water skin and held it out to me. “Have some nectar before we get started.”
I accepted the drink but groaned. Still speaking with my mouth full, I whined, “We’ll be traveling in daylight?” Why?
“Because that’s when the emperor is least likely to be in the skies. He patrolled all night, remember?”
We’d seen his flames in the sky from this side of the caves too. Tyrrik had pointed it out when I’d stumbled toward the entrance last night. Right. That goes to show you just how tired I really am. I chewed a few more times and swallowed then pushed out my bottom lip again as I double checked the bag for more brak. Maybe there was more in the saddlebags. “What about our horses?”
The horses will meet us in Zivost. They left as soon as we got to the cave.
They did? I shook the bag upside down and threw it away when nothing came out. I sipped at the nectar, knowing I’d have to share with Tyrrik.
Don’t backwash.
His thought hit me, and I choked. If a little of the nectar happened to go back into the water skin, it served him right. Har-har. You’re such a jester.
