Black Crown

by Kelly St Clare

  “We’ll work on your defenses,” Tyrrik said, squeezing my waist.

  I stared around the glistening quartz room. The chamber appeared to have everything, but really it was empty aside from the few bits of furniture which made it functional. The room and I had a lot in common.

  “I felt something similar in Gemond,” I said, straightening. “When Draedyn was flying overhead. I had this weird moment where I wanted him to find us.”

  “Really?” Lani dropped her hands. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t think anything of it,” I said numbly. “I didn’t realize the thoughts weren’t mine; in the same way I don’t notice I’m breathing all day. It just happened, and then it was gone right when you put up your gold veil. It must have kept him out.”

  “You were in your Phaetyn form too,” she replied. “Maybe that helped.”

  “And I was closer to Tyrrik,” I added. The events of the night played over in my mind again. “I regained slightly more control as Tyrrik drew near. The closer he got to the forest tonight . . .” The truth hit me, and I looked at my mate and said, “My resistance to Draedyn is stronger when you’re close.”

  A heavy silence followed my words, and Tyrrik cleared his throat, breaking the stupor. He turned his attention to the Phaetyn, an impassive mask falling over his features, leaving me chilled.

  “Queen Lani,” he said. “Your people need direction. You need to pull yourself together.”

  My people, she mouthed, and then she exploded. “On my first night of rule, I get so drunk I can’t complete the barrier, and Draedyn slaughters fifty of my people, taking the prince and princess and at least two more.” Her eyes shifted to me. “I come to ‘my people’ with a Phaetyn-Drae who gives the princess over to our enemy.”

  I froze, anguish slamming into me.

  Lani rushed to add. “That’s merely what the Phaetyn are thinking, Ryn. You must see how they’ll mistrust you even when I explain what happened. You both must see how wary this will make them.”

  Knowing her words were true did nothing to lessen the hurt as she spoke them.

  A menacing rumble filled Tyrrik’s chest, and I could feel his ire rising on my behalf. “Watch what you say, Phaetyn.”

  “Do not forget yourself,” Lani whipped back with a glare, shooting to her feet.

  A menacing smile curved his lips, and his skin rippled as scales climbed up his neck. “And do not make the mistake of forgetting who I am.”

  “You’re right,” I whispered, releasing my pride. Tyrrik’s arm tightened around my waist, and I held up my hand wearily before he could reassure me. “No, I’m serious. This isn’t a pity party. This isn’t a blame game. I screwed up. I should’ve been working harder on my defenses. Maybe I should’ve realized what the emperor was doing or what he was capable of, but now that I know . . . I’ll shovel dung uphill to work on overcoming that weakness.” No one controls me.

  I met Lani’s eyes across the room. “And you need to get the barrier up. Then we need to save Kamini and Kamoi—”

  “How do you know they’re even alive?” Lani asked harshly, her grip tightening on the crown she still held. “How do you know he hasn’t killed them?”

  Tyrrik answered, “Why would he kill them when they are the perfect hostages?”

  A glint of hope entered the Phaetyn’s violet eyes, but she deflated again as her gaze fell on the crown. She curled into herself and bowed her head. “I can’t put up the barrier. I’m not strong enough.” She sucked in a strangled breath and added, “I couldn’t even do it as my people burned.” She dropped the crown to the quartz floor, watching the ornate circlet rattle around and eventually settle. “I’m not Queen.”

  She was wrong. My certainty solidified as well as my intentions as I thought of what would come next.

  My love, Tyrrik spoke in my head. You know what this will mean?

  I glanced up at him. Yes. I know. I probably didn’t, but I knew enough. And Draedyn needed to be dethroned. I’m ready to fight in this war, mate. To the end.

  The air caught in his throat, and his eyes burned as he changed the subject. You have accepted the M word?

  How could I have ever doubted? Yes, I have. Next time I decide we need distance . . .

  I’ll lock you in a room and never let you out.

  My brows lifted at his tone. I’d been joking, but Tyrrik sounded almost angry as he replied.

  Stepping free of his embrace, I approached the hunched Phaetyn and then crouched by her side. She didn’t lift her head even when I reached for her crown.

  The intricate circle of metal leaves was surprisingly light, weighing far less than a golden object of its size should. Warm power trickled from the crown, soothing my frayed nerves and minutely stoking my energy. One minute later, and Lani would’ve had the crown on her head and everything could’ve worked out so much differently. She could’ve put up the barrier. Fifty Phaetyn may still be alive.

  But thinking that way was pointless now.

  I took a deep breath and whispered, “You are the Phaetyn queen, Lani.” I brushed back her silver hair. “And you will wear this crown and be who you need to be, despite what you feel. You’ll do this because your family is in danger and because your people need you.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes glistening with tears.

  “And you need them,” I added. With that, I gently placed the crown on her head.

  Golden light erupted around her, enveloping her small frame. The room jerked and spun, and I gaped to orientate myself as a vice clenched my abdomen. I glanced down and realized Tyrrik held me, his arm around my middle, and my back was against his chest. I glanced over at Lani.

  The Phaetyn queen stared at her glowing hands, eyes wide as she rotated her palms.

  The air around her body radiated a luminescent gold so bright my eyes began to water. I tried to step out of my mate’s embrace and glanced down.

  “Tyrrik,” I said, patting his arm. My feet weren’t touching the ground, and I was dangling like a doll clutched in a child’s arms.

  He set me on my feet. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Little bit on edge.”

  Obviously. And as soon as we were alone, I’d be making sure he knew none of what happened was his fault.

  Lani stood abruptly, and I eyed her askance. She better not go Phaetyn-hate-Drae on us.

  “You seem . . .”

  “I’m stronger,” she said, still turning her hands over.

  Tyrrik stepped close again and asked, “How?”

  Lani took a breath and removed the crown. The glow disappeared like blowing out a candle’s light. “When the crown’s on, it’s like I’m touching my tree.”

  I walked to her side and peered at the pale-green stone set in the looping golden crown. That’s what had been in the box hidden in Luna’s castle. No wonder she’d kept it locked away. “Do you think there’s a bit of your tree inside?”

  Lani placed the crown on her head, and I lifted an arm to shield my eyes from the glare.

  “There has to be,” Lani said breathlessly. She closed her eyes, and several seconds passed before she opened them again. In a voice full of awe, she said, “I can talk to the forest through this. They’re welcoming me. Ryn”—her voice tightened—“I’m stronger with the crown. Much stronger.”

  “Now you’ll be able to erect the barrier,” Tyrrik said from behind us.

  A soft smile spread over her shining face. “Yes. I definitely will.”

  Zivost Forest would be protected, and so would the Phaetyn.

  Lani frowned. “But how are we going to save Kamini and Kamoi?” she asked, removing the crown once more. “Putting up the barrier doesn’t help us get them back. If Draedyn has them hostage, they’ll be in his empire.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. I glanced over my shoulder at Tyrrik. You sure you’re ready for this?

  I am. Draedyn’s rule must end.

  His conviction joined with my own, and my face firmed as I took Lani’s hand. “We w
ill go to save your family and people,” I said. “It’s time to end the emperor’s reign of terror.”

  Lani’s eyes met mine, and her jaw dropped.

  I continued, a growl slipping into my words, “We’re going to war.”

  12

  At Lani’s request, I’d kept to my chamber inside the Rose Castle for the last two days as she regained control of her people. But the time hadn’t been the relaxing reprieve I craved. My mind felt bruised from Tyrrik’s repeated attacks, but he was adamant that if I was able to keep him out, I’d be able to keep my father out too.

  So far, Tyrrik had strolled into my mind every single time. No problem. Gone was the time of pulling my energy back into myself to erect a barrier. Our mate bond kept us linked, despite my best efforts to keep him out. Yep, everything was on the up and up.

  I lay on the spongey grass underneath Lani’s elm and stared up at the dark sky, the twin moons hidden beneath a canopy of clouds.

  The golden barrier shimmered high above the forest, ensuring my father could not attack here again. Although, knowing how easily he’d seized control of my body had me tossing and turning every night.

  With a sigh, I spoke to the night, asking my deepest fear, “Are we rushing into this war?”

  The night answered me in his silken voice. “No.”

  I sat up, smiling at Tyrrik as he slid behind me, his arms encircling my torso just under my breasts, and I leaned my head back against his chest, breathing in the pine and steel scent of him.

  The darkness wrapped us in its embrace, and I continued to bare my fears aloud. “The Gemondians are still recovering though they’re healthier than they were. Verald has had longer, but it’s been weeks since we last saw Calvetyn. The Phaetyn are terrified after the attack. And we have yet to contact Azule—”

  Tyrrik didn’t reply immediately, but I waited, listening as he drew a long breath.

  “There never seems to be a right time to fight back.”

  I twisted in his arms, placing my hands on his forearms as I looked up into his inky gaze. “But?”

  “When I was enslaved to Irdelron, there were many moments I fought his control, despite knowing I couldn’t break the blood oath. When the possibility came to break his power over me, when I found you, the time still didn’t feel right. But then, it wasn’t because of certain failure; it was for fear of failure. Because then I had someone to lose.”

  After the dungeon, I thought I’d lost just about everything that mattered. Not true. And despite my legitimate concerns of the rebellion’s readiness, maybe Tyrrik was right. Was this weight on my chest fear? The heaviness grew as I thought of losing those I had left—Dyter, Lani . . . my mate.

  I searched Tyrrik’s face, my heart in my throat, and asked, “Do you think we can do it?”

  “I think,” he said, and his brows furrowed as he stared up at the sky, “the stronger we get, the stronger Draedyn will become. Waiting five, ten, or twenty years will make no difference; it won’t give us the certainty of success we all crave.” He pursed his lips, and his jaw set. He scooted back just enough so when he tilted his head, he met my gaze. “But to win, we must fight while the people of Draeconia can look at their bodies and see the evidence of how he starved them while the dirt is still soft on the graves of their husbands and fathers, and while the land is yellow and dead, leached of life by its diseased and evil ruler. He might hold Draeconia by the throat now, but if we rise together, we will disembowel his reign and then execute him for his abuse.”

  As he spoke, my breath quickened, and I rose onto my knees. I’d missed exactly when I’d tightened my grip on his forearms, but I was ready to leap into action. “Wow,” I said, easing my grip, exhaling my energy. “You need to write that down.”

  He snorted.

  “No, seriously,” I said, nodding. “I could actually do battle right now and win.”

  His lips quirked, and he wrapped an arm around my neck, bending down to press a kiss against our mate mark on my neck. I shivered, and my thoughts of battle derailed. I scooted closer. That kiss was fine, good even, but Tyrrik’s tongue was for more than just talking. I wet my lips as I glanced up at him through my lashes. “Mate,” I said plainly, my lips lifting into a smile at the sound of the title. “Mate.”

  Tyrrik shook as he chuckled low in his throat. “Getting practice in?”

  My eyes narrowed.

  “You were practicing the real name for Phaetynville in exactly the same tone.”

  “Kanahele o keola,” I said then smiled sheepishly. “Okay, I might be practicing a little. It just . . . still feels strange. Good strange though.”

  Whatever you need, my love.

  I snuggled into his chest, and our bodies swayed gently underneath the elm tree and black sky.

  “Hey, Tyrrik?”

  He hummed in the back of his throat as he ran his hand up and down my back.

  I opened my eyes, remaining pressed against him. “You know the attack wasn’t your fault, right?”

  He only froze for a second, but the brief reaction was all I needed to confirm my theory.

  “You think it was,” I accused, pulling back. “Why? How was Draedyn taking over my mind possibly your fault?”

  He pulled the darkness to him, shadowing his face above the neckline of his black aketon. “How is it you blame yourself for how easily your father was able to penetrate your mind?”

  “Nuh-uh,” I said, standing as I blinked away his cloaking power. “Don’t turn this interrogation around. I’m asking you, Tyrrik. Don’t deflect, and don’t you dare try and hide.”

  He rose, taking a step back into the inky shadows, his eyes flooding black as he took me in. His nostrils flared, and he tore his gaze from me and began to pace in jerky strides.

  “Tell me,” I said quietly, staying right where I was. “It wasn’t your fault, Tyrrik.”

  “It was,” he said, halting before me. “I went against my instincts.”

  What?

  He continued, “My every instinct said I should not allow you to leave alone; I should be by your side to fight with you, for you. To protect you as I should. I overrode those instincts, and you were attacked. I didn’t make it to your side in time, and you were hurt.”

  I blinked at him, struggling to understand the emotions assailing me through our bond. But this made no sense, the guilt he felt. “I asked you to remain behind.”

  “And I knew better,” he growled, clenching his hands. “I should have followed you.”

  I took a step closer, needing to soothe him. I shook my head, protesting his supposition. “Then you would have gone against my wishes.”

  “Then so be it,” he snarled, tilting his face to the night sky. “I would rather you hated me again than to feel your helplessness when Draedyn controlled you.”

  My mouth opened. And closed. My mind stuttering as it processed his words. “I . . . I thought we were getting better at this.”

  He shuddered and hunched away from me, scales climbing the sides of his neck. His emotional turmoil wracked him, and I ached to make it go away, but what could I say? I kept still as he controlled the instinct to shift.

  Tyrrik stopped shaking but didn’t turn back. When he spoke, his voice was weary. “Ryn, you know I have tried. And I don’t plan to stop trying.”

  I waited. There was a definite but on the end of his sentence.

  He blurred forward and took my hands. “Please, my love. Promise me you will never ask me to be parted from you again. You know I would move the world itself to make you happy. But please, please do not ask me to leave you unprotected again.”

  My heart lodged in my throat. My Drae, my mate, was begging. A man who had held strong through one hundred years of enslavement was now pleading. And yet, though my heart ached as his heart ached, and my soul burned as his soul burned, could I lie to both of us and grant his request?

  We were immortal. To promise such a thing for one year, for two, seemed honest. To promise to never be out of reach o
f my mate for eternity didn’t seem possible.

  I understood his fear was raw. I understood he’d been terrified. Hadn’t we both been clinging to each other for strength a moment before?

  But I couldn’t lie. Not to him, and not to myself.

  “Tyrrik,” I whispered. “I promise to never leave your side . . . unless I believe I have to. Unless it’s life or death.”

  His harsh exhales were accusations in the silky darkness. “But you would leave my side again?” he asked, his condemning gaze drilling into mine. “After I have begged you not to, you still would go?”

  I swallowed. Did he think I wanted to? “You can’t protect me from everything, Tyrrik. That is not a burden I want you to carry. No one should have to.”

  “It is who I am!” he roared. “I am a Drae. You are mine to protect. It is my privilege and my purpose.”

  “I am yours,” I said, drawing myself up. “Just as you are mine.” I reached for him, waving him to come back to me, and my voice dropped to an earnest whisper. “But I will not lie to you, and I will not let you take responsibility for my actions. I’m not going to abandon you, but I—”

  Tyrrik brushed away my reaching hands.

  “Tyrrik,” I said. “Please understand.” My heart ached to make this right, but I had no idea how. I couldn’t compromise on what I knew was right. “I won’t ask permission for everything I do.”

  He’d turned to leave but stopped, looking over his shoulder. His profile showed his fangs had lengthened, and scales covered his arms and neck. “I understand you will do what you believe to be right.”

  I sighed in relief.

  “Just as I will do what I believe to be right,” he finished.

  I stayed rooted to the spot, as Tyrrik stalked away from the elm without another backward glance.

  I awoke early. Even curled against Tyrrik, my sleep had been restless. Not just because our argument hung heavy between us, but today the Phaetyn would start their march toward Gemond.