Black Crown (The Darkest Drae Book 3)

by Kelly St Clare

  “No,” Draemyr said, cracking a smile. “At least not by birth. Growing up together in this palace made us sisters, regardless of who our parents were.”

  Draelys perched on the edge of the pool and tugged her tunic up so she could slide her legs in beside me. “I don’t remember my parents. I was four when Irdelron stole us.”

  Draemyr squinted and counted on her fingers for a moment. “I was five, almost six.”

  Holy pancakes. I didn’t even have memories from when I was five, and that was only thirteen years ago. Crazy.

  “How many of you were taken? Or how many of you made it here?”

  The woman with the scar answered. “There were fifty-two of us taken. Forty-eight made it here to Draedyn’s palace. Twenty-two died in childbirth before your mother had you, only one since then.”

  Twenty two! My mouth fell ajar. He’d killed nearly half of them through forcing them to bear his child unmated. I did the math in my head, but the numbers didn’t gel. There weren’t twenty-four anymore. “What happened to the others?”

  The Drae ran her hand through the dark water again. “Several found ways to take their own life. There were Phaetyn in the palace after all. And Draedyn has used a few more of my sisters as . . . examples.

  I didn’t need to know what they were used as examples for. Clearly, being an example did not end well. No surprise there with plain-ole’ eat toast and then control everyone Draedyn.

  “I couldn’t help noticing some of you have similar names. Why is that?” What I really wanted to ask was why did Draedyn and I have a similar name. The fact that his name was Drae with a –yn and my name was R-yn had not escaped my notice.

  The leader leaned toward me in the water and whispered, “It’s usually the firstborn child who gets the suffix –yn.”

  Which meant Tyrrik had an older sibling before being taken. My heart panged, and I rubbed my chest again. “So Draedyn was the first born?”

  “No. He was not. He was the second child, and like many second children, he struggled to find his place in his brother’s shadow.”

  That Draedyn had a complex shouldn’t surprise anyone. “But he was the emperor, or rather, he is the Emperor.”

  “Yes, but his older brother was the alpha Drae.”

  “So Draedyn’s brother was the one to refuse to help in the emperor’s war?” Is that what he’d meant by the ‘those who don’t fight for me are against me rubbish?’ I continued, “Draedyn had his own brother killed.”

  Power could make people do crazy things, like Kamoi. He’d barely flinched when his parents were killed, and his mother had basically killed her own sister for power. Yet with Draedyn, my gut told me there was something . . . more.

  “No. When Draedyn’s brother, Aedyn, disappeared, Draedyn, then known as Aerik, believed he should become the alpha, but the position of alpha male is not inherited within familial bonds. Aedyn chose his successor before he left, and it wasn’t your father.” She looked at me meaningfully. “Any guess who it was?”

  How was I supposed to know? I shook my head, not wanting to interrupt her but also cataloging a question about the meaning of –rik later.

  The female Drae continued, “Aedyn died as did his mate, and a new alpha male rose into power over the Drae, Baeyn. Aerik, your father before he was Draedyn, was already emperor over the humans. He declared war oversees and asked Baeyn for aid. The previous alpha had refused, so the new alpha did as well. Aerik changed his name to Draedyn, declaring he would one day rule all of the Draeconia and the Drae. This led to his movement against our kind through the Veraldian king.”

  I knew the rest from Tyrrik. “Yes,” I said sadly. “I know of that day.”

  “We were corralled and brought here, but a young male Drae was found hidden in the bushes. Irdelron had him brought forth and tricked him into a blood oath.”

  Tyrrik.

  The detail in her recount made me wonder. “You were old enough to remember all that?”

  She nodded.

  “I was sixteen when we were taken, one of the oldest.”

  “My mother’s family name really was Ry? I’d wondered if she just made it up after her escape.”

  “It was your grandmother’s pre-mated name. Ryhl reverted back to it once she was captured.”

  “What was it before?” I asked, curious.

  The scarred Drae looked up at Draesi, who shrugged her shoulders. She stilled suddenly, peering back to the entrance. A heart beat passed before she relaxed and shook her head.

  Something else was happening. “What’s—”

  “We are always biding our time,” the Drae said with a hard stare and a finger to her lips.

  Okay. That seemed both encouraging and terrifying considering Draedyn could hear everything in my mind. “Did you know my mother?” As I asked, I realized I still didn’t know this woman’s name. Had I been told before? I wracked my memory as she answered.

  “Yes. Your mother was the third daughter in her family. She was the baby. Her parents adored her.”

  I’d adored her. I closed my eyes at the sharp pain under my ribs. “How old was she when she was taken?”

  “Eight. But even then she was impertinent and headstrong. She was a fighter. Not always with her words and not always overtly, but she always said she would find a way to end this. Once we got here, she befriended the Phaetyn. She was the first among us to reach out to them, to be compassionate to their imprisonment and the draining of their blood. She would sneak down to their cells and take them food. It’s no wonder the Phaetyn queen respected her so much.”

  My mother’s kindness and generosity were what won the Verald peoples’ loyalty too. That her nature had always been such didn’t surprise me.

  “Thank you,” I said, my heart swelling. “There were times I thought my mom wasn’t who or what she’d led me to believe. It does my heart good to know the truth from someone who knew her. I thank you.” I frowned. If I’d been introduced to her, I’d forgotten this Drae’s name. Or had she been deliberately obtuse? “What’s your name?

  Her eyes filled with tears. “–Yn means defender. It was the firstborn’s right to defend the family.” She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “My name is Ryn.”

  32

  I blinked several times. My tongue was thick, my mouth dry, and I struggled to formulate a coherent question as I stared at the woman sitting across from me. “Wh-what?”

  “Ryhl was my youngest sister.” Ryn pulled back to look me in the eyes. “She was the one smart enough to change our names on the ride into the emperor’s realm. Our sister, Ryli, was one of the first to die in childbirth.”

  This woman was my aunt? I could hardly believe it. I still had family?

  A searing agony shoved at my mind, and my aunt flinched.

  “Now!” Draesi yelled from the entrance.

  I jumped, spinning in the pool to look for the danger, my mind fully clear for the first time since arriving in Draedyn’s house.

  Ryn leaned forward and spoke in a rushed whisper, “Our family name was Bae. You are the granddaughter of the last alpha. Now, listen: that pain you just felt was Draedyn’s. You have a few seconds to act—“

  As soon as she said the pain was my father’s, I knew what I needed to do. My heart and mind were on the same page. I had to call Tyrrik. My instinct was to scream out for my mate. With his help, I could shatter Draedyn’s hold on me and flee. But running wouldn’t defeat this monster, and I needed to defeat him. For everyone I’d lost, for everyone I could lose if I didn’t.

  My heart thundered, and I turned my attention inward. I could see Draedyn’s shield, but the normally solid emerald power blocking my Drae energy from my reach was fissured and cracked. Wherever he was, his rage was so consuming his loss of focus was affecting his shield, just as mine had in the Azule kingdom.

  It wouldn’t last.

  Ryn continued whispering hurried instructions about contacting my mate, but I knew if I did this the wrong way, Draedyn would
know. And if he knew, he would outmaneuver us again. We had to be smarter, trickier—like Tyrrik was when breaking the blood oath.

  I reined back my instinct to scream to Tyrrik for help with a shaking inhale and coaxed a single, thin filament, the veriest bit of my Drae power I could entice away from the rest to thread through Draedyn’s momentarily fissured shield. On impulse, as I pulled the vibrant-blue strand to me, I coated it in my moss-green Phaetyn veil, hoping my gut instinct would serve me.

  “Need to hurry and call him.” Ryn gripped my arm, shaking me.

  “Shh,” I hissed, pulling away from her. “I need you to be quiet so I can concentrate.”

  Someone else said something, and I did my best to ignore her. I needed a moment of peace to make this work. I took a deep breath and ducked under the water. The silence was immediate, and I strained to follow the thread of my Drae energy snaking through the emerald-green shield of Draedyn’s power. He was distracted, but how wasn’t he feeling this? Was it because I’d cloaked my tendril in my Phaetyn veil? It had to be. Honestly, I hadn’t even reached for my Phaetyn powers because I’d been so focused on how to regain access to my Drae powers. But maybe I’d been looking at this wrong.

  My wisp of power snaked free, and then, and only then, did I give over to instinct, throwing the wisp toward where I could sense Tyrrik. I sobbed aloud at the feel of him but pushed away all the panicked questions I wanted to ask him and focused on the single message I had to convey.

  I could feel the exact millisecond I touched Tyrrik’s onyx bond. Tears squeezed from my eyes at the exquisite torture of feeling him again. I focused on the task.

  Shh. Don’t yell. Just be quiet and let me show you, I told him. Love, like warm honey, coursed through my soul, and I pushed my love, my very soul back to Tyrrik as I continued. I’m in Draedyn’s palace, and he has a shield of power around my Drae energy. I’m concentrating right now, but I don’t think this will last.

  I sent the images of how I saw Draedyn’s power, and what I was attempting to keep Tyrrik and me connected. Knowing time was running out, I sent him images of Kamoi and Kamini, of the female Drae and Druman, of Draedyn looking toward Azule and tracking their actions.

  I see it, Khosana. I won’t try and contact you, but keep that thread covered by your Phaetyn veil all the time.

  An image flashed to me, one of Tyrrik’s trembling fingers pressed to his lips, of him on his hands and knees as he listened to me speak for the first time in days.

  I will, I answered him. Be careful. He’s worse than Irdelron, one hundred times worse. I suspected it was more like one thousand times. I need to go. I was blind to what was happening on the other side, to my physical body, but the pressure of holding my breath was starting to affect me. I miss you. I love you.

  I love you. Be safe.

  He pulled back, and it took everything I had to let him withdraw. But it was necessary.

  I followed the thread of my Drae power outside of Draedyn’s shield back inside his ring of control, and as soon as my awareness returned to my body, I wrapped the thin wisp of blue thick inside mossy green until I couldn’t even see a bit of the lapis lazuli.

  I broke through the surface of the pool, gasping for air. Chaos swirled around me in the darkness.

  “Make her hurry,” Draelys snapped.

  “Ryn,” Draenique yelled, “We’re running out of time. Make her—”

  “They can’t distract him forever,” Draemyr said, the r turning into a feral growl.

  My aunt grabbed my arm and yanked me to her. “Did you reach your mate? Is he coming?” Her voice was laced with panic, and her warm hazel eyes were wide. “You need to hurry. If you yell to him now—“

  I wiped the streaming water from my eyes and slicked my hair back. With a shake of my head I said, “No. It won’t work.”

  A low ache blossomed deep in my belly, vice-like pain seizing the organs of my abdomen, making my stomach turn. I glanced at the other Drae women, blinking in surprise when I saw not only their individual bodies but flashes of color in their core. Whoa.

  This was their Drae power coated in the emperor’s emerald-green energy. Draelys, Draemyr, and Draesi, with pale violet, deep orange, and pale pink, respectively. The thick layer of emerald not only coated their power, but there were tendrils of the green seeping into the other colors.

  Even if I could break them free in this moment, to do so would alert Draedyn and doom us all to failure.

  The ache in my belly worsened. I grimaced with the pain, noticing the other Drae were also contorted. I sucked air in through my teeth and asked, “What is that pain?” While I really did want to know, I was also trying to change the subject.

  Not a moment too soon either. The oily darkness of Draedyn’s power slithered through me. I did my best to ignore the one filament of hope covered in mossy webs, not knowing how easy the thought would be for Draedyn to pick up in my mind.

  My aunt frowned, recovering from the agony a heartbeat after me, and then her eyes welled with tears. “You didn’t yell to him. You didn’t call to your mate?”

  I forced my mind away from everything I wanted to tell her and pursed my lips, shaking my head. “I did not yell to him.” She hadn’t answered my question. Was the pain we’d all felt because Draedyn had been in pain? Because his power was inside our minds? Or was it something from the other female Drae?

  Her beautiful face, similar to my mother’s, contorted in rage. The scar on her neck darkened, and she leaned forward, getting into my personal space as she gripped my arm and seethed. “You fool. You selfish, selfish fool. You wasted our sacrifice: mine, Lyz, Lys, Nique, all of us.” She flung my arm away and screamed, “All of it.”

  I flinched with her anger, wanting to reassure her but hopelessly unable to. “I couldn’t yell.” That’s as close as I dared to go.

  “Liar,” she said. “You are your father’s daughter.”

  Ouch. I flinched. That hurt.

  The emerald power around my mind intensified, and on the same whim as moments before, knowing I was onto something important, I stretched the green webbing of my Phaetyn veil to block a little corner of my mind, stretching the veil from where it was attached to my Drae-blue messenger thread, making a little private bubble. Inexplicably, I knew this bubble, this internal Phaetyn veil, was safe. Light and dark did not mix, not until me anyway.

  Maybe I could keep this little area for all those stray, super-inappropriate treasonous thoughts, and to protect what I’d just done. Not that I was going to follow Draedyn now, at least not on everything. He needed to believe any changes were sincere. Small changes, turning toward him, would lead to more freedom eventually. A sudden change of heart, especially now, would increase his suspicion and hence, keep his attention fixed upon me.

  “I was wrong.” Ryn climbed out of the water and grabbed her plane tunic, keeping her back to me the entire time. “You are nothing like your mother. She would be ashamed of you.”

  Even if the words weren’t true, they stung. I sat in the water as Ryn gathered the rest of the female Drae together, whispering about my ineptitude and cowardice. Her cruel comments burned the back of my eyes.

  “It’s not a whisper if I can hear everything,” I called to them.

  You were right to refuse her, Draedyn said, his pride pulsing through our connection.

  Get out of my head, I snapped. I hate you. Now the women are all against me.

  I felt his chuckle at that, the greasy revolting pleasure he had in my pain and that of the other Drae. But I focused on my private bubble, holding my breath inside and out as I dipped under the surface to wash new tears from my face. Was it working? Surely the game would already be up if not.

  “Ryn?” Draesi called from the doorway. “Come on. Your aunt will forgive you. We’ve all had a run-in with her over the last century. This place, our numbers, they are too small to hold grudges against one another.”

  Seemed to me people should count to ten before hurling hurtful comments then.r />
  I dunked under the water again, rinsing the rest of my pain into the sulfurous liquid of the caverns. I steeled my heart. I needed to not feel, to not allow my emotions to rule my actions. I climbed out of the water and pulled my tunic over my wet body and dripping silver hair, fixing my face into an impassive mask.

  “It’s fine,” I said to Draesi. “Her disappointment and frustration are her problems. I’m tired of having people, human, Druman, Drae, and Phaetyn, all try to use me to their ends. I will not be anyone’s tool.”

  Except mine, Draedyn reminded me.

  I rolled my eyes.

  We crossed to the exit, and Draesi’s shoulders dropped, along with the corners of her mouth. “I understand why you feel that way.”

  Well, that was a first. I appreciated that she didn’t push.

  Draesi led me out of the caverns and back to my room. I changed into a dry tunic and offered one from my closet to the other Drae. The beautiful blond-turned-black-haired woman brushed out my hair and plaited it. Before I could offer to do the same, she gathered her dyed hair with nimble fingers into a braid, drawing the long length forward over her left shoulder. I couldn’t believe Draedyn made the women dye their hair to look the same. That was ten levels of sick. I wondered if he was trying to make them look like someone in particular.

  “There now,” she said. “Let’s go have dinner. You hardly ate a thing at breakfast, and you slept through lunch.”

  What a nice way to say that Draedyn had taken over my being, and I’d passed out and then gone through a whole bunch of weirdness over a bath. My stomach rumbled, reminding me of a lesson from the dungeons of Irdelron’s castle: hunger made even the smartest human or Drae foolish. I needed my wits about me.

  We returned to the dining room where the other Drae sat around the rustic table, waiting. The scent of seared meat made my mouth water, and my father waved me to the head of the table, saying, “Thank you, Draesi, for your constancy. Heir, by me.”

  Maybe that was why he didn’t call me by name, to avoid confusion. Nice. I trotted over to him like a good little daughter.