Black Crown (The Darkest Drae Book 3)

by Kelly St Clare

  My father carved a large roast, the smells of garlic, rosemary, and fresh bread reinforcing my previous memory. As soon as the loaded plate was set in front of me, I reached for my knife and fork.

  Someone sniffed, and I halted with the utensils in my hand, but the silverware was still touching the table.

  With my head still down, I glanced left to see Draedyn now still, his hands frozen mid-slice of the thick cut of meat, and out to my right Draelys shook her head, her hands in her lap.

  Seriously? I let the thought slip through. “Excuse me,” I said tightly and returned my hands to my lap. The food would just get cold.

  I waited for everyone to be served and then raised my attention from my clenched hands. The large glass plates were laden with food: a thick slice of the meat, still pink all the way through, was surrounded by roasted root vegetables. Seeded brown bread sat to the side, and a crock of butter was being passed around the table.

  I watched carefully and mimicked what Draelys did opposite me, all the way down to the way they buttered their bread.

  And still no one ate. What was this torture? Give me pain, take my will, but do not get between me and rosemary potatoes.

  “In honor of your fidelity, heir, we are having beef,” Draedyn announced. “Now, don’t worry, unlike some of your precious cattle, you did not know this cow.” His dark eyes gleamed.

  “Was that meant to be a joke?” I gritted my teeth. Doubt about the origins of the meat in front of me held me back from the thick slice of steak. There was no reason for him not to hear my thoughts or feel my disgust, and I let my revulsion of his insinuation the meat was human flow freely to him.

  A low growl rolled out from his lips across the table, making the glasses shake and the silverware rattle against the wood.

  I straightened, squaring my shoulders. Even knowing he would feel the insincerity of my humility, I kept my gaze down.

  “Yes,” he said. “But even with the insincerity, your actions are moving in a more desirable direction. And, you misunderstand me, heir. I would not have us be enemies. I don’t see any difference between humans and cattle. You have made your opinion on the matter quite clear.”

  “So you’re saying this meat is cow; it’s not human?”

  “It is cow,” he said simply. “Now eat it.”

  My distrust did not ease as my father sliced into the meat, bringing bite after bite to his lips. The rest of the Drae women followed his example, but still I couldn’t bring myself to eat from the thick slice.

  I ate the roasted potatoes, parsnips, and carrots. I added more butter to my bread and ate all of it, sipping on the wine and water by my plate. I kept my gaze fixated on the meat, cutting into it and then pushing the pieces aside for something else until it was the only thing remaining on my plate.

  “You do not believe me?” he asked, his irritation pulsing through our bond. “Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever betrayed your trust?”

  “What kind of question is that?” I replied. “You’ve stolen my will at least four times.” I met his gaze and continued, slowly, convinced of the veracity of my accusations. “And you would lie and betray me if it served your purpose. I can feel it right now through our bond.”

  And through the bond, I could feel his surprise and then pride at my comment. I could also tell he was telling the truth about the meat. I picked up my knife and fork again and cut a large piece of meat and then stuck it in my mouth.

  Just like my bond with Tyrrik, this bond with my father went both ways. Useful? Perhaps? I didn’t need help seeing—

  Stop thinking while you’re ahead, Ryn, I reminded myself.

  33

  We finished our meal, and the emperor cleared his throat. I felt him gather up the energy of our bond, and I glanced inward, seeing the mossy power webbing still obscured my thread-like link to my Drae power. He wasn’t completely gone, however I could still feel his sick anticipation.

  Something awful was about to happen.

  Druman filed into the room, surrounding the walls two layers deep. Their unwashed, disgusting presence extended out into the hall, dozens of them waiting to act on the will of their master.

  The energy of the female Drae around the table shifted, going from mild content to anxious and tense trepidation.

  Draedyn leaned forward, dark eyes bright. “I find our bond increasingly fascinating, heir. I’ve found when you become excessively emotional, your energy, thoughts, and feelings permeate my mind. While I know you could control and stop me seeing and feeling your thoughts if I give you access to your Drae powers, I’m not sure I will ever want to give this up. I’ve discovered so much through you.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He licked his lips and pushed his chair back. “No, I don’t suspect you do. Come,” he said, standing. “Let’s go out on the balcony. Draeryn and Draelyz, you will join us.”

  I whipped my head to look at my aunt. That wasn’t a good sign. She and the female Drae across from her paled, and Druman pulled their chairs out from the table.

  Draelyz stood, resting her hands on the table, and my aunt rushed around the foot of the table to help the other Drae forward. Frozen with fear? Yeah, I’d been there, done that.

  “Did you know,” Draedyn asked, linking his arm through mine.

  What the hay? We were on linking arms terms now?

  If the thought had reached him, he ignored it, saying, “The Drae women used to try to defy me all the time. Your mother was usually an instigator.”

  I yanked my arm from his and said, “That doesn’t surprise me much.”

  He smiled, fangs elongating past his lips. “No, I don’t suspect it does.”

  Druman herded the other two Drae out onto the balcony and then stood shoulder to shoulder to cut them off from the rest of the room.

  The orange-and-red rays of the dying sun glistened over the water. Smoke still rose from within Azule in the distance but much less than yesterday. The tang of ash coated the air. I stepped past my father, yearning to reach out to Tyrrik, regardless of the danger and stupidity of doing so.

  I took a deep breath and pivoted to the two female Drae.

  Draeryn and Draelyz were on their knees although the fierce expression of insolence my aunt wore was eerily similar to how my eyes narrowed and how my lip curled. As I saw my mother in her, I could also see myself, a weary, bitter, hard version of myself.

  Draelyz was hunched over, and with the tattered edges of her tunic riding up her thighs, purple and green bruises were now visible on her pale skin.

  “You beat her,” I said, pointing at Draelyz’s legs. Her face and arms were untouched, and my dinner congealed in my stomach. He’d only beaten the lower half of her body. Was it so I couldn’t see until now? Or because he didn’t want to see her mottled skin while he ate? “Why did you beat her?”

  “Why do you think?” he asked. He pulled her hair back, revealing her beautiful face, her blue eyes glistening with tears. “Betrayal.”

  His favorite word.

  But he couldn’t kill them. They were Drae.

  In a blur, he brought his hand back and swept it forward, his fingers turning to talons as he sliced.

  I shouted in warning.

  Draelyz managed a half-whimper before Draedyn’s talons sliced through her chest. Her body pitched forward, and her head bowed.

  Draedyn glanced at one of the Druman and pointed at Draelyz. The mule pulled a knife from his belt and a bead of silver dripped to the black stone. I sucked in a breath, my body stiffening, but before I could yell out a warning, the Druman drove the blade through her back. Her body jerked and then crumpled. She fell on her side, seizing.

  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.”

  I glared at him.

  “Do it,” my aunt coughed on the ground.

  I tore my gaze from the emperor and closed my eyes, sliding my talons into her chest cavity like a hot knife into butter.

  Draedyn released her, and her body slid from my talons and crumpled to the stone. I squeezed my eyes shut, listening to the drip of her blood from the end of my talon. I choked on a sob and coughed, opening my eyes to see one of the Druman plunge a dagger, slick with Phaetyn blood, into my aunt’s chest.

  “A bit too slow,” my father said with a frown. “I’ll leave a contingency of Druman to make sure you’ve learned your lesson. You will stay with her until she’s dead.”

  “No,” I gasped as Draedyn whirled on the spot and left the balcony.

  I blinked, disconnected from the scene around me. The Druman moved, time didn’t stop, yet I existed in a muted bubble. There was my vomit. There was my aunt, the woman I was named after, her broken body trembling as her life bled from her. As black cracks marred her face, reacting to the Phaetyn poison in her bloodstream.

  Twilight descended, and the air cooled. The Druman retreated into the dining room, leaving me and my aunt on the graphite platform.

  My breaths came in rapid, shallow gulps, and I crawled over to the female Drae, my kin. My real kin.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered again. I wanted Tyrrik here.

  I wanted someone to make this better.

  I didn’t want to have my aunt’s blood on my . . . I swallowed, stunned with the craziness of the idea that flitted through my mind. I looked inward, covering my thoughts with my Phaetyn veil and double-checking my Drae-thread.

  Aunt Ryn’s power was completely unsullied by Draedyn’s slick green energy. He’d pulled his power back at some point, leaving me a perfect opportunity. I stretched the mossy web over my aunt slowly, first covering the vibrant turquoise still around her heart and then pulling the power of invisibility over her entire body. I hunched over and whispered, “Please work.”

  I’d healed Tyrrik. Ryn was my aunt, so I could totally do this. Couldn’t I? I pushed my healing-mojo into her. I imagined the edges of her skin knitting together, the Phaetyn poison burning away like Drae fire, her blood multiplying, replacing what she’d lost, and her heart pumping her power back through her. I watched the mossy green, turquoise, and lapis lazuli dance and tangle and play like old friends.

  When I felt her stir beneath my hand, I opened my eyes wide and shook my head as I pressed one hand to her mouth and the other to my own, indicating we couldn’t talk. I pulled my Phaetyn net over her energy and whispered in her ear, “Don’t move.”

  I pulled her body toward the ledge, doing my best to pretend to be sobbing while I huffed for air. Turning her so her feet dangled over the edge, I knelt down and focused on the bubble in my mind, whispering to her again. “I’m going to push you off the edge. I’ve got your body invisible right now, so as soon as you fall, shift and fly to Azule. Find Tyrrik.”

  Her e
yes widened, and she mouthed, “I can’t.”

  “You have to or you’ll die. Give Tyrrik information. He knows.”

  She swallowed, pain-filled eyes set on my face, a flicker of regret in their midst.

  “I’ll hold the veil as long as I can,” I breathed into her bloodied, torn ear. “Please live.”

  And then I shoved my aunt off the ledge of Draedyn’s palace.

  34

  I stumbled back into the dining room, my hands bloodied and mind still reeling with the acute memories of my aunt’s shredded body. The Druman lined the interior walls of the dining room they waited in to ensure the job was done.

  “I pushed her body off the side, like Draedyn did. Is that good enough?” Unless they sent someone to check if my aunt’s body had landed below, my subterfuge would work. I glared at the mules, and when no one answered, I wondered if they were mute like in Irdelron’s castle. “Do you animals speak?”

  “Done yet?” one asked, his voice rough.

  I don’t know why I found it creepier that Draedyn left his Druman with their tongues, but somehow I did.

  I narrowed my eyes, disturbed by how normal he looked. They all wore tunics like mine only bigger, but most of the bastards were filthy and grimy, their long hair matted with unkempt beards and broken nails. But the one who spoke had his hair pulled back, and his clean-shaven face set him apart from the others. That and his apparent language skills. “Yes,” I replied. “All done.”

  “Wait,” he said and then ducked out of the door.

  Was he kidding? Wait for what?

  I stepped toward the doorway, and two of them closed ranks, their wide smirks only slightly less disturbing than the sadistic gleam in their eyes. Nice to see them taking after my father . . . Ew. Our father. That thought and their hulking bodies stopped me in my tracks.

  My lip curled, and as I scanned the Druman, I realized I was no longer afraid of them. I wasn’t intimidated by their strength, speed, and violent tendencies. Somewhere along the line, I’d stopped reacting as a human.