by Raye Wagner
“You revert to your own house now, Lord Tyrrik.”
Lord . . . Tyrrik.
The stunned silence gave me ample time to put it together. I turned toward Tyr’s decapitated head again, taking two steps toward it before clutching the sides of my head and whirling back.
“Tyrrik,” I shrieked. “No.” I chanted my denial over and over again, pressing my knuckles into my mouth with bruising force. “No,” I gasped again.
Black agony filled my chest, and I looked up to Irrik, willing him to assure me that I’d misunderstood. Certainly, he wouldn’t have deceived me, betrayed me, like that.
His face was a smooth canvas, blank of all emotion. Void of everything.
“You,” I choked, unable to articulate the storming thoughts in my head through the ripping hurt inside.
Something torn flashed in his dark eyes, and then I watched as the darkness came to him, wrapping around him, shrouding him. My throat constricted as he became a hooded figure, slightly shorter, with light stubble lining his jaw. His eyes and most of his nose were beneath a shadowed mask. I looked down at his hands, but he had no reason to change them. His fingers were long, and my eyes burned with tears as I remembered their gentle touch.
His lips on mine.
His tender treatment and whispers of love.
“Tyr,” I said, choking on my sob. Through my tears, I glared at the Drae, my heart freshly shredded by his betrayal. “You were pretending. You were Tyr this whole time.”
A loud whining noise filled my head, and a blinding-white light exploded across my vision. I clutched my chest, feeling as if, at any moment, my ribs would shatter from the hurt.
“Yes,” the Drae spoke.
Except it wasn’t in his voice.
It was Ty’s voice. My dungeon buddy’s. Not raspy because acid had been poured down his throat or because he was a Druman spy. Raspy because it came from the partially shifted throat of Lord Irrik. “You were Ty, too?” I choked.
Ty. Tyr. Tyrrik. He’d lied to me this entire time.
He stepped closer. “The king ordered me to get information out of you by posing as a prisoner.”
“You told him the rebels were coming? You betrayed us?”
“I didn’t have a choice. I did what I could to get around the blood oath. I did what I could to be there for you and help you without endangering you. But as soon as the king’s life was placed in danger, my oath compelled me to tell him.”
“Then why ask me to contact Cal in the first place?” I shouted at the unmoving Drae.
His body vibrated. “Because I needed to get you out, but not while I was still under Irdelron’s control. He would’ve sent me to retrieve you. I had to find a way to break the oath so you could be truly free, and you were the only way to do that. Drae cannot kill Drae. I thought I could play both sides and manipulate the oath without too many people getting hurt.”
I snorted. He’d killed hundreds because of his game.
“You were wasting away before my eyes,” he said hoarsely. “I couldn’t bear it.”
“That whole time I thought Jotun was hurting Ty, and you’re telling me that was all one huge lie? Do you know how much time I spent worrying he would never come back?”
He dropped his gaze to the floor.
“Do you?” I choked. Irrik had been Ty. Ty hadn’t been a Druman at all. He wasn’t real. The thought pierced through the cloud of disbelief inside me.
And if Ty wasn’t real . . . My eyes landed on the head I’d assumed was Tyr’s. I let out a hollow sound.
Tyr isn’t real, either.
I fell to my knees. “Why would you do this?” When he didn’t answer, I screamed, “Why did you do it?”
I sobbed, digging my nails into my skin as though clawing to reach my heart.
“Ticho teraz, moja láska. Ste v bezpečí,” the Drae said in his language. Then he placed his hand on my arm, and in my mind Tyr spoke, I will always keep you safe, my love.
Safe? His words were a slap, and anger surged within me hot and swift.
“Keep me safe?” I asked shrilly, pushing him away from me.
Cal and Dyter stood back, watching the exchange with matching expressions of bafflement, but I had no time or inclination to explain anything right then.
I turned on the Drae and continued my verbal assault. “You manipulated me,” I shouted, my body burning with rage. A heartbroken cry escaped my lips, and I pressed my trembling fingers against them. “You used me. Y-y—”
I stared up at Irrik and marveled that his expression was still smooth. Uncaring. How was I so affected and he felt nothing?
I crossed to him, lifting my hand, and slapped him before I knew what I was doing. But I did know he could have moved if he’d wished. He kept his face averted after the slap, but I wasn’t done. My chest heaved, and I hurled my whispered accusation at him, my voice breaking, “You made me fall in love with him. How could you?”
He stayed turned away. Unflinching. Unmoving. Unfeeling. How could he have played Tyr? How could he be Ty, too? They were figments of his imagination. There would be no saving my dungeon buddy. Whoever that head belonged to, it wasn’t my Tyr. But he was still dead.
Worse than dead.
He’d never existed.
Tears poured down my cheeks. Salty, disbelieving, excruciating, tears. There was no word for this kind of pain.
“He wasn’t real,” I said, staring at the Drae. My heart was shredded and the coward wouldn’t even face me. Snarling with disgust, I snapped, “None of it was real.”
Only then did a tear escape his soulless, empty eyes and trickle down over his sculpted cheekbones and clenched jaw. But still, Lord Tyrrik said nothing.
I turned away and told myself I felt nothing inside, either.
33
I left then. I walked out of the castle through the front door, once I found it, with nothing but the clothes on my back and Ty’s dagger. After I remembered the blade and aketon were his, I scrambled out of the blue uniform and threw it and the dagger away with as much strength as I could muster.
No one tried to stop me. Not Cal, not Dyter, not . . . him.
As I walked into the night, I vowed I’d never step foot inside that castle again. Even though the monster who had ruled it was dead and gone, it would always be the place where I was broken and put back together again and again for the sadistic pleasure of others. Those men had once been more powerful than I was. I didn’t care that I was stronger for it. I didn’t care that I would be powerful. I didn’t care that I was powerful now. I didn’t care.
“I don’t care,” I screamed at the pitch sky, at the stars of those I loved. Then I bowed my head and walked. My throat was raw from crying. My feet took me on familiar paths, until I stared at the blackened ground that had once been my home. Zone Seven. Where I’d had a mother, a best friend, and an uncertain but hopeful future.
Yet even my memories of that were now tainted by the truth I hadn’t known at the time.
Lies. Ty, Tyr, Tyrrik . . . my own mother.
Everywhere I turned. My entire life. Lies.
I wanted something to be real. I needed something . . .
Tears fell from my eyes to the charred ground. My blue scales erupted, climbing up my arms as my heart began to race. I sank to my knees as racking sobs tore through me, again. Only this time, I cried for me. For my losses. For the girl who once was and never could be the same.
I closed my eyes from the starlight twinkling off my vibrant-blue scales as if reminding me of the truth. I hated them. I hated what they represented.
A truth that everyone knew but me.
I was already barefoot and filthy from my night spent mourning in the middle of the blackened and desolate Harvest Zone. I bowed low and sank my hands into the ground, digging my toes into the ash, too. My tears poured freely, dripping onto the char, and I shared my pain with the soil underneath. I shared with it my losses. I unfolded my heartbreak. I divulged my fears. I told the warm ground undernea
th my hands everything.
For hours I stayed this way, pouring my heart out to something that could never betray me, never report to another, something that could never spin my words to mean something that would break my heart anew. The soil would never judge me for how I’d changed, or shy away from the hardness in my heart now. I told Harvest Zone Seven all of who I was and could never be again. And when I’d shared everything, when I was empty and my tears had dried up, I collapsed to the ground and let the dirt embrace me.
It felt like an eternity when footsteps crunched toward me. I remained still, lost in memories of Tyr’s wry smile and sure hands.
“Rynnie,” Dyter whispered, tears choking his voice.
I felt his presence crouched by my head. My eyes were swollen, and I could hardly move in my exhaustion.
“I’m so sorry, Rynnie,” he cried. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
Nothing else could have roused me except the tears of the man I considered my father. I moved my head to look at him.
“I went down to the dungeons.” He gasped, his scarred face twisted in agony. “I saw—” He broke, his body shaking as he cried silently.
“Help me up?” I asked.
He hurried to do so. Pulling me to him as he sat, he propped me up next to him. He wiped his face, and together we surveyed what was left of our home.
“I can’t believe it’s all gone. It doesn’t seem real, does it?” he asked.
I didn’t reply.
He hesitated. “I’m sorry about the man you loved . . . Tyr.”
I closed my eyes, trying to block out the memories that rushed at me. “Please, don’t speak his name. He wasn’t real.”
Dyter sighed.
When I opened my eyes, he was still staring at the endless black.
He turned and looked me in the eye as he said, “But what you felt was real, and I’m sorry your heart was broken.”
Not just my heart. It seemed deeper. I blinked away burning tears.
He spoke again. “Your mother . . .” He paused. “You know she only kept those things from you to protect you, don’t you, my girl?”
I remained mute.
He nodded after a time. “You’ll see it in time. But I hope you know she loved you with all her heart and soul. You were her reason for waking each day.”
A tear slipped over my cheek. “I know,” I managed. “I miss her, Dyter. So much.”
A sob escaped the older man beside me. “I do, too, Rynnie. She was a good friend to me. Helped me when no one else would. I’ll tell you just how one day.”
I smiled at him. “I’d like that.”
After a long moment, Dyter said, “He followed you when you left, did you know? He’s been there, all night, watching over you.” My mentor tilted his head to the rolling hills behind us. “If I could kill him, I would.” He cleared his throat and added, “But being a Drae and all . . .”
His comment startled a laugh out of me. A strong reminder I hadn’t lost everything. “Thank you, Dyter.”
“What for?” he asked. In his haunted eyes, I could see he blamed himself for everything.
For being alive. “For being here,” I said.
Dyter smiled, but it faded a moment later. “Ryn, I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but Tyrrik”—he arched a brow at my dark scowl—“said you will make the transformation to Drae in just a few days’ time. He said when that happens, the emperor will become aware of your existence.”
A few days. Not long enough. My life had changed so much. I wasn’t ready for it to change again. What would happen to me? Would I still be me when I transformed? Unfortunately, I refused to speak to the only person in Verald with those answers. “Why is that a problem? He can’t kill me, right?”
“You know there are worse things than dying by now, Rynnie.”
I did know.
He rocked me in his arms as we sat quietly in the burned remains.
“It’s all gone,” I said. How would we ever get back to what we had been? It wasn’t possible, I knew. But we’d also defeated the king. “But maybe tomorrow . . .”
Maybe I could find the hope I needed tomorrow.
“Well, now look at this, my girl.”
My Phaetyn power was healing me, my energy returned with a slow swelling, and I shifted to look at his scarred face. His gaze had softened and was fixed on my hand.
I wiped my eyes and gazed down.
Soft blue petals, a pale version of my scales, were blossoming between my thumb and forefinger. The flower was small, but as the breeze moved the solitary bloom, the petals glowed in the starlight. My heart skipped a beat as I stared at the only bit of life for as far as the eye could see.
“I’ve never seen a flower like this before,” Dyter remarked.
I had.
Every day since I was two, Mum had held me up to stroke the petals of the welded flower in the Market Circuit. When I’d grown old enough, I reached to touch it myself whenever I passed it.
This was that flower brought to life.
My flower.
A flower that belonged to Mum and me—and to everyone who had perished in the last few months.
“It’s a new flower,” I answered him in a firm voice. A reminder of who I was today, and who I’d loved at this moment. In a few days, I would transform into a Drae, but I would always have this flower here as a sign of who I’d been once.
Dyter squeezed my other hand, and I returned the gentle pressure, whispering as I looked to the sky, “It’s called a Tyr.”
“A Tear,” Dyter said, misunderstanding the name as I’d known he would. “That’s a beautiful name, Ryn. I hope more grow.”
My heart squeezed, but I took a breath, and air finally filled my lungs.
“As do I, Dyter.” My gaze flickered to the rolling hills concealing Lord Tyrrik. In a handful of days, he wouldn’t be the only Drae in Verald anymore. I’d be a monster, just like him. I took a shaking breath. “As do I.”
Shadow Wings
The Darkest Drae: Book Two
Pre-order now available here.
Kelly’s Acknowledgements
Holy pancakes! This book was a blast to write.
Thank you to the following people:
Our betas, Michelle, Jennifer, and Kate, for providing amazing feedback.
Our manuscript team for their hard work; Kelly Hashway, Krystal Wade, Dawn Yacovetta and Michelle Lynn.
Our cover designer, Daqri at Covers by Combs for this badass cover.
Our ARC team – you guys rock more than rockstars!
Thank you to my readers, who bring much joy to my life through social media shenanigans.
Thank you to the guy I stood behind in queue who read non-fiction books, but politely pretended to be interested when I told him I was co-authoring a book about dragon shifters. I could tell you thought I was crazy, but I appreciated your social efforts to remain non-judgemental for the five minutes we spent together in the post office.
As always, thank you to my incredible husband and best friend, Scott, and to my family and friends, who are wholly supportive.
Finally, thank you to someone who is legitimately crazy. Raye Wagner, Raye-Wagz, Wagneroo, you have been an absolute pleasure to work with. This book was 87% laughter, and 13% actual work. When I met you in Nashville, I knew we would be great friends. I can name the exact moment we became friends, too. It was when I asked you to search me for ticks because you freaked me out telling me they were everywhere in Nashville. Some might say that is a strange way to become friends, and they would be right, but it suits the dynamic we share. What I’m trying to say is. . . we’re both really weird.
The same weird.
Lurv you!
P.S. If you grew potatoes, they would undoubtedly be the biggest and best in Verald.
Fun Facts About Raye Wagner:
1/ She could conquer the world while on her elliptical or washing her hair.
2/ She doesn’t just ‘join in’ with the dancin
g. She arrives on the dancefloor, and dominates it. Respect.
3/ She didn’t like the Marmite I took to the U.S. with me, and I wondered for a time if I could forgive her, but she liked the Tim Tams, so we remained friends and wrote this book together.
Raye’s Acknowledgements
Books take time, and the older I get the more time becomes my most precious commodity. So thank you to Jason, Jacob, Seth, and Anna who allow me to take time away from laundry, dishes, and cooking so I can write. And thanks for listening, sometimes even with enthusiasm, to my ideas and stories, and MOSTLY thank you for sharing your time with me. My life is so much richer because you are in it.
Thanks to my parents who are not only two of my bestest friends, but who listened to me spout off the insane idea I had about a dragon-shifter while they were visiting. And for my brothers, sister, in-laws, nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, uncles… Family buoys me up, mostly because I know we have each other’s backs whenever we need it!
Our betas are awesome, as is our editing team. Michelle, Jennifer, and Kate you’re the beta babes!! XOXO Kelly Hashway, I’ll forever be grateful Ednah brought us together!! You’re amazing! Krystal Wade, you have superpowers, don’t you? It’s okay, I won’t tell. ;) And Dawn Yacovetta, I adore you and your sharp eyes!
Daqri at Covers by Combs- I’m pretty sure you were inspired. Your talents led to the most stunning cover!
To our ARC team- Muah!! There aren’t enough hugs and kisses for how grateful I am to you!
Lela, Courtney, and Joy. You’re truly angels! XOXO
Lela, you are the yin to my author yang!
Finally, I have to gush for my co-author, Kelly St. Clare. You make “work” so much fun! I can’t even remember how we met online, but I’m so glad you were willing to organize a party with me and then hang out when you came to the U.S, and by hang out I mean come stay at my house! Hahaha! You’ve got mad writing skillz, sharp wit, and a hilarious sense of humor. I’m making plans for a bazillion more stories for us to write together. I’ll forever consider it a gift that our paths crossed and merged. This journey has become exponentially more fun travelling with you!
