Black Crown (The Darkest Drae Book 3)

by Kelly St Clare

  Mily shook so hard as Draedyn approached that she appeared to be having a seizure. She fell to her knees before him, her head bowed.

  My heart pounded with dread as my mind reeled with confusion. I watched my father disembowel her this morning. How was she still alive? And whole?

  Draedyn’s angular features didn’t change. He wasn’t smiling or frowning, but his narrowed eyes gleamed. He brought his arm back as if he was about to slap the queen, but his digits shifted as he moved, and the razor-sharp talon sliced through her neck. Her eyes widened and mouth opened as her head fell to the platform’s edge and bounced into the crowd.

  Tyrrik had looked up then because I saw Draedyn smile and bring his talon to his lips.

  My stomach heaved again, and I begged my mate, No more.

  Tyrrik broke my connection to his memories just as Draedyn approached Marb. I’m sorry.

  Was it that fast for all of them?

  No. He forced Kamini to heal Marb and Dilowa several times before he finally ended it for them.

  Draedyn must’ve had Kamini heal Mily, too. My heart ached for my Phaetyn friend. I’m not sure I can tell Lani.

  Don’t. It’s not your trauma to share. Lani isn’t ignorant of Draedyn’s cruelty.

  I wasn’t so sure, but I wasn’t going to worry about it right now. A weight tugged at my heart and pressed on my shoulders. They’d all been alive this morning. So much could change in the blink of an eye. What if we don’t win, Tyrrik?

  We’d gone into Azule anticipating their allegiance for the final battle against Draedyn. First the weird party, and then Draedyn’s presence and waking in the closet. Kamini and Kamoi had been with him, and I didn’t pay enough attention to defending myself. Now, the Azule kingdom had a different ruler, set on the throne by Draedyn, and more than half of the group we’d gone with was dead. We should have never entered that place.

  My throat was tight with sadness and bitterness choking me. I’d had a bad feeling from the get go. The Azulis’ insanity, Dyter’s disappearance. Why hadn’t I listened to my instincts and never gone inside? Or forced everyone to leave when we all saw what the people of the Azule kingdom were like? People of that level of baseness, so comfortable in Draedyn’s realm, couldn’t be trusted.

  It’s not your fault, Ryn.

  He was flying over a freakin’ ocean and reassuring me.

  I could have done more, I said. I should’ve done more.

  You are doing more.

  I didn’t reply. He had a point, and that made me feel marginally better. But then Boyra’s words reared in my memory, telling me I was only doing more to try and lessen the guilt I had for killing more people. I forced the doubt away; I had a job to do. Feeling guilty was a luxury I didn’t have time for. The army should be close. I’ll work on this end.

  Tyrrik mentally tsked. Good, and I need to focus on the boats.

  Okay, I’m going to drop my shield so I can find Lani. Are you ready?

  I love you, Ryn.

  I love you too. Words failed me except those that were honest. I wanted to laugh, to somehow make a joke. I’d always joked, even in the dungeons of Verald, but my humor had apparently fled.

  I took a deep breath, double checked my Phaetyn veil, and then relaxed the blue bands of my Drae shield from around my mind.

  The sun dipped below the horizon, the sky’s hue deepening from cerulean to indigo. My Drae vision was still fine, but my anxiety increased every time the shade in the sky darkened. Normally, I loved the night. Back when I lived in Verald, I went through a romantic phase where I believed the darkness called to me like a lover. Now, I was fairly certain most of those emotions were my Drae transformation building within me. I still liked the darkness, a lot even, especially if it meant I got to be in bed with my mate. But flying in the night sky with Draedyn on the loose made my Drae skin crawl. Even with my Phaetyn veil firmly in place.

  A roar from behind me shattered my thought, cutting through my attention to Tyrrik. Fear spiked through my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. My heart raced, but I didn’t even have time to turn before a heavy weight crashed into me.

  Sharp talons pierced my scales, and I shrieked in pain.

  Tyrrik!

  My mind blanked for a moment amidst my panic. Then I was reaching for the azure bands of my Drae power. I pulled them close, tossing them in loops around my mind. Faster, faster. I needed my shield; I knew what this was . . .

  An explosion of emerald detonated in my mind. My chin dropped, and I blinked to clear the blurriness from my eyes. I pumped my wings, weaving in the sky as I grabbed for the threads of my power, but the lapis lazuli strands evaporated faster than I could grab them. Every time I snagged a bit of my power, deep-green ropes wound around the blue and pulled them away, swallowing them whole.

  Dark, oily power poured over me, pushing through the shattered blue bands, cracking the remains of my shield as the emerald force flooded into my head.

  Ryn—

  I latched onto Tyrrik’s voice, screaming his name. My panic spiked and then waned as the Drae-energy of my alpha father swamped me, coating my insides.

  My connection to Tyrrik disappeared, followed by my fight. I had a fleeting concern about the hunger behind Draedyn’s determination to own me, followed by a passing thought, now no more than curiosity, about how my father would’ve found me. The darkness of the emperor’s strength swallowed me and my entire world. My sole focus became the will of my alpha.

  I was my father’s daughter, and I only wanted to serve him. I needed to. I had to make up for all the problems I’d caused.

  Come, my beautiful daughter, let’s go home.

  He thought I was beautiful. I bowed my head in reverence even as a quiet voice in the back of my mind screamed in protest. Yes, Father.

  Cover us with your Phaetyn veil.

  I pulled the mossy-green net over Draedyn, seeing for the first time that my father carried a passenger. The silvery-haired man sat astride my father between two of his spikes, facing away from me. Hiding, even. He was clearly a Phaetyn, our enemy. My father’s disgust echoed through me. The Phaetyn had to die. All of them.

  The traveler turned, and the shock at seeing his handsome face and stunning smile disconcerted me enough that I reared back in the sky . . . though I couldn’t place why I did so.

  Or how I knew the Phaetyn’s name.

  Kamoi.

  28

  I stretched out in bed, one of those long extensions with the arms above the head and the toes pointed. The morning movement was my favorite with muscles taut the length of my body; the occasional shuddering spasms were like kisses of life.

  Except it didn’t bring a smile to my face as it had in the past.

  I threw my arms out, extending my hands to either side of me on the bed before opening my eyes. The sheets were coarse and cold, like burlap left out during a frost. Rough but unrumpled. Unused.

  Something was off. My excitement for a new day, the pleasure of a stretch, even the knowledge that something was wrong only produced a mild, blunted emotion. My fingertips felt numb, and although I could move and think—

  “You understand, of course, I had to remain in your mind. You’re far too volatile, and until your will has melded with mine, I will be present, at least in some capacity, daughter.”

  I wrenched my eyes open and stared at the ceiling overhead. Matte-black graphite as though the room had been carved into the side of a cliff greeted me, the dull darkness disturbing. Dread rioted in my stomach as I propped my elbows up to sit in the bed, but my head felt stuffed with cotton. The coarse sheet fell down the front of my nightgown, and despite the fact Emperor Draedyn was definitely in the room, my gaze dropped to make sure I was decent.

  My shoulders sagged at the plain black nightgown I’d been put in, which covered me from neck to wrist and—I shifted my feet to check—to my ankles. Emboldened by this and very little else, I lifted my gaze to peer across the room.

  Draedyn sat semi-re
clined, at ease on a black velvet couch. He had one arm propped on the cushioned side. Behind him, a red woven blanket draped across the back of the couch, the contrast like blood on a battlefield.

  “Where is my mate?” I croaked, surprised to still have control of my voice. I forced myself to look at my father and tried to ignore the blood-red throw.

  “What of me?” Draedyn asked. “You do not want to greet your father?”

  He sent an emerald-green pulse out with his second question, and the wave of power swept through the large chamber with such force all reason fled from my mind for the space of two gasping breaths. I straightened—when had I bowed?—and said, “Can’t say I do, really.”

  Draedyn grinned, his white teeth gleaming. His garb was as unassuming as the sack-like garments I’d seen him wear in Azule, maybe even the same. His eyes were solid inky black, and he met my gaze hungrily. He sat, unmoving, as I darted repeated glances his way, trying to measure my enemy. His power—I inhaled sharply again—I couldn’t even sense the depth of it. To be so close to the source of this massive force was like falling through a dark cavern and not knowing when I’d eventually hit bottom.

  “Can you hear my thoughts right now?” I asked, tersely. Where was Tyrrik? Had he reached the boats filled with men meant for the overseas war? I had no memory of how I came to be here. The last I could recall was Draedyn crashing into my side and then here.

  Draedyn’s finger twitched on the couch, and a slow smile touched the corners of his lips. “Your mate went after the boats.”

  A horrible suspicion entered my mind.

  “Yes, he was meant to go after them,” Draedyn answered before I had a chance to finish forming the words into a question.

  A trap. I closed my eyes to block out the angular lines of his cruel face. Neither Tyrrik nor I had seen Draedyn coming. But I didn’t care about that. I couldn’t even care for myself or the situation I was in, not yet.

  “He is alive, daughter. Your mate still lives.”

  I shuddered at the immeasurable control under the alpha Drae’s leaden voice.

  “Is he well?” I asked, stressing the last word. There was a big difference between being alive and being well.

  I watched my father’s expression carefully. His gaze and the hold of his mouth remained unchanged as we stared at each other.

  “He is far from here,” Draedyn said. “I’ve done nothing to harm him. There is no reason to; the extinction of our species has never been my design.”

  “Well, you’re doing a great job of that,” I said. Despite my sarcastic reply, my bottom lip trembled, and my hands shook. Thank the moons and stars and whoever else was looking over me. My mate was alive and free.

  The emperor tilted his head, and his eyes narrowed.

  “What?” I asked brusquely.

  “Haven’t you heard that to kill your mate would be to risk killing you?” he asked. “Why do you think I went to so much trouble to get you away from him?”

  All at once I understood. He’d pulled our strings like a puppeteer. And we were as foolish and naive as children. How had we not put it together? That he was merely attempting to lure me away. As soon as we knew he was there, we should’ve run “Did you know I was watching when you cut Mily open?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t know when you’d be watching, just that eventually you’d find me when the old human male went missing.”

  How did he know how important Dyter was to me? My stomach clenched as realization set in. He’d accessed my mind more than once. He likely knew how much everyone meant to me. Could that mean Draedyn had him? He’d said ‘went missing,’ so I was inclined to assume not—or maybe that was desperation talking.

  “Then why didn’t you strike when you attacked my mind? Why not just take me then?” I asked.

  “Because your mate could’ve broken it,” he said plainly. “Just as he did.”

  As plain as his appearance. As plain as his power. As plain as his cruelty. None of them had trimmings. None were dressed up. Was that the point beside his lowly appearance?

  He smiled suddenly. “Very good. There’s no need for pretence.”

  I wouldn’t roll my eyes. Not when I had to live for Tyrrik; my chest ached with the thought of him. “What happened after you took me?”

  Draedyn stood, slowly, at human pace. “We flew here.”

  I screwed up my face, not bothering to move. Tyrrik could move faster than light, and Draedyn had to be faster. The only reason for his deliberately slow pace was because he didn’t want me to know exactly how fast he could move. “Yeah, sure. That’s why you cut the memories out.”

  He shrugged and stepped toward the bed. My chest tightened, and my heartrate picked up, an instinctive reaction to the destructive power infusing the chamber. “I wondered if we would have a chance for a fresh start, but you’ve recalled more than I anticipated. Somehow.”

  Daddykins didn’t seem too happy about some of my memories filling in from the blackout of his control, so I latched onto his tidbit of displeasure like a lifeline.

  “However”—he studied me like a prize piece of cattle—“to hear your thoughts is rather . . . fascinating. I’ve not shared a familial bond with another in a long time, and I find myself curious to hear your thoughts. Curious enough to permit you most of your mind and body . . . for the time being.”

  Hope leaped in my chest, and my eyes widened. I clutched my sheet and leaned forward with anticipation.

  His face hardened. “Your mate is far away, Draeryn. My hold on you is absolute, regardless of these little freedoms I allow you. You’re inside my empire, and not even a Drae could fight his way in.”

  Part of me sincerely hoped Tyrrik didn’t attempt it, and another part of me expected him to arrive any second. I expected Draedyn to know more than I how hard a male Drae would fight to get to his mate. But maybe not. Maybe Draedyn had never had a mate. I really didn’t know. There was so much I didn’t know, and in this moment, if the news was bad, I didn’t even want to know. I hoped Dyter, if he was even alive and with the army, would be able to talk reason into Tyrrik. With savage force, I turned my thoughts away from Dyter and back to Daddy-Draedyn.

  “I’m in your lair?” I asked, glancing away from the emperor’s intense perusal of me to take a better look at the room. My bed was the centrepiece of the space, the velvet couch with its blood-red throw and a leather-covered trunk at the end of the bed were the only adornments to the chamber. Like the emperor himself, his lair was plain, another testament to his faux-humility. Like anything material would distract from his power? How hard would it be to hang up a family portrait—ugh, no. Maybe a picture of his mother or a landscape or sunset? Black, black, black.

  “I’m seeing a decorative theme here,” I muttered. A door to my right offered a break in the dark graphite rock. Did that lead out to the rest of his lair?

  “This is my home. Wild animals have lairs. My empire is all of Draeconia, from the front of the cliffs, extending out to the water on all sides, all the way down to your precious Verald. And yes, that door will lead you to the rest of my abode. Behind you is your private washroom, through the smaller doorway there.”

  I didn’t even need to speak anymore to be answered. How convenient. I offered Daddy Draedyn a tight smile.

  A foreboding darkness billowed out from him, the only response to my flippant thought. The creeping dark-green power crawled through the room toward me, and I had a minor freak out. He didn’t expect me to watch my thoughts, did he? That was probably impossible for anyone.

  The ominous pressure retracted like a knife pulled from a wound. I was drawn forward as though dragged by an invisible force.

  “Very true, daughter,” the emperor murmured, walking around the bed away from the door. “Our thoughts are the essence of what we are. As you think, you will become. Do you know what guides me?”

  Ugh. Was he giving parental advice? Or trying to bond? When would he just go— Oops.

  He turned to the bl
ack wall, hands clasped behind his back. He was huge although his choice of apparel made him seem smaller. As he drew closer, I better appreciated his height, maybe five or six inches taller than Tyrrik although thinner than my mate. To the outside observer, only years might’ve separated us, but in truth, Draedyn was hundreds or thousands of years old.

  He’d killed my mother. Not directly, but he’d led her to a life of secrecy and fear. What life could my mother have had if not for being rounded up and carted off to him to be a brooding mare?

  What the hay was he looking at the wall for? The meaning of life?

  “Betrayal,” the emperor said.

  Maybe he was touched in the head—more than his utter ruthlessness and greediness for power suggested. I took a deep breath and, humoring him, repeated, “Betrayal?”

  His shoulders tensed.

  His mind-reading-thing was reducing the likelihood of my escape.

  “Hundreds upon hundreds of years have gone by,” he said, still speaking to the graphite wall. “And yet the strongest memories I have are those of betrayal. What it felt like: the twist in my stomach, the wrench in my heart, the fire in my belly. I used to get angry and frustrated with the inconvenience. I had to create plans to exact my revenge. I deserved recompense from those who dared to defy me, or worse, rise against me. I vowed never to forget a betrayal, and I didn’t. Each time someone significant broke my trust, I pulled a scale from my Drae body. That way I had merely to look upon my true form and be taken back to the exact moment, the exact feeling I had.”

  That. Was. Messed. Up. Seriously.

  That, right there, that was why he was crazy, with a capital K. Revenge? Recompense owed? Burn someone’s pancakes, chop down a tree, or get a hammer and go bang some nails into a stump like a normal person. Better yet, go blow fire at the stars.

  I cringed as the oily green power began to creep back. What a time to learn my mind liked to rattle one insult off after another. Actually, I might’ve known. Tyrrik hearing my thoughts and Draedyn hearing them weren’t the same thing.