Black Crown

by Kelly St Clare

  I grinned in glee at the shock on his face. Yet my grin faded as I looked beyond Lord Irrik to Jotun. The Druman was blurring and fading—the sunflowers, bars, and dungeons dissipating as though sucked from the surrounding air.

  The darkness and fear in my chest was replaced with a sense of panic and fury, emotions distant enough I knew they weren’t mine.

  “Ryn!” someone shouted from far away.

  Bright light exploded in my mind, my vision of the world around me obliterated with the force, and then all was dark.

  17

  I blinked, staring up at Tyrrik in a daze. Shredded pieces of plants littered the space of our tent, covering most of the blankets and pillows in green bits. I was standing. When did that happen?

  The quilted fabric of our tent hung askew, pulled off its supports by the upright Drae. He stood, watching me, his eyes wide. His chest, where I’d fallen asleep earlier, was wound with vines—not vines, long sunflower stalks.

  I fell to my knees on the fragments of plants and pressed my hands to my temples.

  “What happened?” I asked weakly.

  “Are you . . . you?” Tyrrik asked, pulling pieces of stem and vine from him.

  I sucked in a slow breath and nodded, though even I didn’t believe myself right now. “What was that?”

  I’d never had a nightmare that real before. Was it even a nightmare? It was like I’d been fighting against my own mind. As though someone was trying to . . . to remember things in a different way. That someone had wanted me to hurt Tyrrik.

  There was only one person besides Tyrrik who had access to my mind. “That was my father.”

  The shock sucker-punched me, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. My voice was gone, but I forced the next question out, despite dreading the answer. He can do that?

  Tyrrik’s glower spoke louder than if he’d shouted actual words. He reached out for me, but I pulled back. I needed a moment to collect myself, to remind myself I was here with Tyrrik, not in the dungeons with Irrik. The simple fact Irrik had featured instead of Jotun proved my mind wasn’t driving the nightmare.

  How can he do that? Never once in my time in the dungeon had someone taken my mind. That’s how I’d survived, by finding my corner. My father had seized control of me once already in the forest. But this? He’d warned me; he ruled through fear first. He’d even said leaving me with control of my mind had been a reward. But to not even realize I was being manipulated as I slept? He’d accessed my fears and used them against me. I remembered the way the nightmare blurred at the end. Did you pull me out of that?

  Yes, once I realized what was happening, Tyrrik answered.

  I’d thought what happened in the Zivost forest was as bad as it could get. I’d been wrong. I shook uncontrollably. There was nothing more frightening than what just happened. Ever. He’d plunged me into my most haunting memories. He made me hurt Tyrrik.

  I turned to my mate. Was it because I’m more vulnerable asleep? Is that how he got inside my head? Draedyn was only able to get in at all because of the familial bond, but . . .

  I thought I was protected against Draedyn with you near.

  The silence stretched between us.

  Tyrrik’s eyes were flooded, and his mental voice faltered. He sat still, but his jaw was clenched, and his fisted hands trembled. Ryn, I need to touch you.

  I nodded, exhaling slowly, and he pulled me into his arms, his body shuddering as his tension waned.

  Tyrrik squeezed me, burying his nose in my silver hair. He kissed my head then let go to straighten the tent above us. He brushed the greenery out of our small space while I sat and watched, waiting for him to regain enough control to speak.

  I was so shaken, I hadn’t even process that there were horrible lashes across his chest from where I’d bound him to the ground with the sunflowers. I’d attacked him in my sleep. Worst mate ever. I’m so sorry, Tyrrik.

  Tyrrik’s movements were short and sharp, and his jaw clenched as he moved about the small space, setting it back to how it was, or close to it. Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. Neither of us could’ve predicted that.

  And yet I couldn’t help but feel it was my fault. Fear burgeoned my chest, and I forced myself to say the words out loud. In a voice just over a whisper, I choked, “Are you worried it will happen again?”

  He froze, pillow in hand. A moment passed, and he tossed the pillow to the ground, now covered with shorn stalks. Now that I know what to expect, I’ll be better prepared. I won’t let him do that to you again.

  He was not taking the burden for this. How did you get him out? Maybe if I understood that, I could understand how to keep him out myself.

  We are mates. Our bond is stronger than any familial bond you share with Draedyn. In the forest, he was able to attack you because we hadn’t mated and I was too far away.

  I glanced up at him. You think that’s why?

  The males of my kind occasionally would leave their mates behind to go and fight, knowing their bond would not diminish over distance, nor the ability to send energy to the male in battle.

  But you’ve always said we’re stronger together, I countered. And what about now? Do you think our bond still weakens with distance?

  Yes, we are stronger together, he agreed. And I’m not referring to our bond or the sending of energy between us. I think your mental barrier against your father is stronger when I’m near. When I’m away, it’s easier to shatter. He is not only your father but the alpha of our kind. Tonight, I was able to push his presence away when I realized what was happening. He’d cut you off from me somehow. It was only when you started attacking me that I noticed.

  So he can affect you. I wrapped my arms around myself and thought about how I could’ve attacked Tyrrik. What did you see?

  No, he can only affect me through you. I’m a male Drae, not sworn to him, and no relation. And I saw an emerald-green coating the blue strands of your Drae power.

  Could Draedyn do this from anywhere? I had to sleep sometime. I shivered, looking out the tent flap at the dozens more tents housing slumbering Gemondians. What could’ve happened if Tyrrik wasn’t sleeping next to me tonight? How many could Draedyn have made me kill? The entire army? I stared at the lash wounds on Tyrrik’s chest again. They’d healed into thin red lines already, but my chest squeezed.

  I wish I remembered more. His thoughts were laced with frustration. Male Drae would never have left their mates if they knew their female would be left vulnerable.

  Maybe they didn’t know. How many ancient alpha Drae are there to force their way into their daughter’s heads? And weren’t the Drae supposed to be the protectors of the realm?

  Tyrrik’s eyes gleamed in the dark as he watched me. True on both counts.

  He faced me, crouched in the tent, and held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to bed.”

  I closed my eyes, bowing my head in defeat. I can’t keep him out. I’m not going to go back to sleep.

  He sighed, his chest rising and falling. I’ll watch over you, my love. I know what to look for now, and I won’t let anything else happen to you.

  He’d stay awake so I could sleep? Because that made me want to sink into a dreamless slumber. I could feel how much he wanted his promise to be true, however, and I realized he felt just as much guilt for what happened.

  I crawled across the tent and tapped on his leg. “Come down here with me.”

  He joined me on the blankets and pillows. Our lapis and onyx threads wound together, and I opened my heart to him, uncaring which emotions were mine and which were his. Our bond and emotions merged, unidentifiable as belonging to each of us, and I rested both of my hands on his chest, using my restored Phaetyn power to remove the physical evidence of the pain I’d just caused him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, speaking for both of us. “And I’m so afraid.”

  If I stay awake, I can keep him out. We’ll just have to rotate our sleep schedule.

  I’m not sure how I feel
about that. I raised my eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the mood as I wound my arms up over Tyrrik’s shoulders. He rewarded me with a smile, albeit a tight one.

  We need to keep you safe, first and foremost.

  First-shmirst. I pressed my lips to his. I love you. No matter what Draedyn made me do, my feelings for you haven’t changed. At all.

  That was never in question.

  I chuckled, my shoulders relaxing a tiny amount. Glad to see the sunflowers didn’t injure your confidence.

  Tyrrik deepened our kiss, splaying his hand over my neck. Not much can.

  I broke off our kiss, staring at him in false shock. You don’t say? Is that a Drae thing or a Tyrrik thing?

  He lowered his mouth to mine again, saying, A Tyrrik thing. Would you like me to show you?

  Two soldiers stood barring our tent entrance when I awoke the next morning. I patted the blankets next to me. Tyrrik was gone, long gone judging by the lack of warmth under my fingers. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on my ears, growling in irritation. Not just Tyrrik, the entire army was gone.

  I stared at the width of the two men. They wore golden chainmail, and their physique resembled that of a tree trunk: thick, wide, solid. Some of the Gemodians must have fed their young well before sending them off to die.

  I shook my head. After last night, I was feeling acutely morbid and heart sick. Though with my father taking over my mind and forcing me to attack my mate, I was probably allowed to be disheartened for a day, especially because he could do it again.

  What, my love? Tyrrik asked.

  Where are you? I closed my eyes and saw the army through Tyrrik’s mind, and then he shifted his gaze to the surrounding mountains. How long have you been gone?

  Since sun up.

  I pursed my lips at his non-helpful answer. “Excuse me?” I called out to my babysitters.

  Both young men turned to face me.

  “How long ago did the army leave?”

  I looked at the two young men, both of whom were surveying me as though measuring my worth. Was it written on my forehead or something? They were close to eighteen, if not already there, and curly hair the color of dry dirt stuck out in thick waves around their square faces. They were neither handsome nor ugly, and their eyes were pretty close to the same color as their hair. I’d heard of identical twins, but I’d never seen two people who looked exactly the same.

  The young man on the right tossed an empty corn cob away. “Five hours, give or take.”

  Five hours?

  “Lord Tyrrik insisted you sleep as late as you wanted,” the other said, his eyes shifting to me.

  “That sounds about right,” I said, turning my attention to the rumpled blankets.

  The two young men stepped away from the tent a couple of yards and sat down in front of a pile of green husks.

  I took the privacy they’d offered and threw off the blankets, running my fingers through my long silver tresses. They were silent as I pulled my aketon and a pair of hose out from under the blankets. I patted down the bedding, unsuccessfully trying to find . . . Where are my shoes?

  Just outside the tent. On the left.

  I huffed. I can’t believe you left me.

  I can see the tent from here, I could burn both of them to a crisp in seconds, and I’m watching our bond. Draedyn won’t sneak past. You know I’d never abandon you. Besides, you’re invincible, remember?

  Oh yeah, I forget that sometimes. An evil emperor taking over my mind helped with that forgetfulness. A lot.

  Just be careful with the boys. Zakai and Zarad said they’re the best they have.

  I looked at the two young men. One was grinning as he murmured something to the other. They both chuckled as they sat on the ground, shucking corn. The grinning one caught me staring and held out an ear of corn, the husk already removed. “Do you want some?” He wiggled the vegetable at me. “Best corn I ever ate.”

  Beyond the guards, where the clearing had been, was a garden. A vegetable garden, with no rhyme or reason to the plants’ order, fruits of my labor before sleeping last night.

  I couldn’t stop the curiosity bursting inside. What had I grown? Was there enough for everyone? Honestly, it wasn’t my biggest work . . .

  Quality over quantity, that was my new motto. At least until the war was over.

  I stepped out of the tent and slipped my feet into my boots. And stared.

  Vines surrounded the tent—no, they were grasses, only they were mutant forms of the mountainous vegetation. The thick blades were over an inch in circumference, and at least ten feet in length. Two sunflowers lay on the ground, their stalks as thick as my wrist, the blooms three feet in diameter.

  “Lord Tyrrik said you’d want to see,” one of the twins said, his voice softer than the one who’d offered me the corn.

  I nodded my thanks, not grateful at all as I stared at the growth I’d created, knowing at least some of it was grown with the intention to kill Tyrrik. The back of my throat burned with shame, and I swallowed it down, disgusted not only with my father but myself.

  I was too weak to keep Draedyn out of my head again. That made it twice by my count. And both times, someone got hurt. I had to figure this out.

  I accepted the corn from the smiling twin and sat next to the not-smiling twin. Corn, zucchini, and tomatoes had all been picked over, and many of the plants trampled underfoot. In the back of the clearing, a pumpkin sat, untouched. Hmm. Should I take offense to that? Did they think everyone could make pumpkins grow overnight? It wasn’t the small size putting them off, was it?

  Grumbling a little, I bit into the corn, sweet and crisp, but the normal thrumming of joy and pride in my chest after growing something amazing remained absent as I looked over the patch of food.

  “Lord Tyrrik said you could shoot those vines straight through a Druman’s guts,” Smiley said.

  Smiley had a morbid streak. I glanced at him and held his gaze. “What’s your name?”

  “Niemoj,” he said, raising his brows.

  I shifted on the grass, blinked, and took another bite of my corn. I wasn’t really sure how to make small talk right now. What I wanted to do was crawl in a corner and hide. If I couldn’t protect my mind from Draedyn, I wasn’t an asset to our army. I was a liability. If I could turn against my mate, I could easily turn on the others fighting for us. Tyrrik was strong enough to withstand an attack. I couldn’t hurt him, really. But what if I’d attacked one of the guards last night? Dyter? The king or prince? I might’ve killed someone.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be heading into this battle. Maybe I should listen to my fear and hide.

  The silence extended way past the awkward stage.

  Niemoj said, “My name means not mine. My brother”—he pointed at his twin—“is Nielub. It means unloved.”

  I blinked at them in disbelief. “You’re kidding. That’s . . .” Awful. No, wait. Manners. I scratched my eyebrow and said, “That’s . . . unique.”

  Niemoj laughed, throwing his head back, and even Nielub the non-smiler grinned.

  “My mother’s family was from the Slav range on the northern border of Azule. Their tradition was to give their babies a substitute name for the first decade of life. If children lived past ten, then they received a different name.”

  I realized my mouth was open and closed it, but I couldn’t help staring at him, completely dumbfounded. All I knew of Azule was that they were the fishing community and the kingdom closest to the empire.

  I asked the only question that made sense. “They lost a lot of babies to illness?”

  He pursed his lips, eyes squinting as he considered my question. “Perhaps. Probably not any more than most areas though.”

  “Then why . . .” I didn’t even know how to ask. The practice seemed cruel.

  “Because the community was on the border of Azule and Gemond,” Niemoj said as if that were explanation enough. When I raised my eyebrows, he added, “Emperor Draedyn has a different relationship with those of Azule,
or at least he did in the stories my mother told us.”

  Really, I needed to know more about the other two kingdoms. If I’d asked more questions before we went to Kanahele o keola, I would’ve been more prepared for the insanity we encountered. And if I’d asked more about Gemond, I might not have made assumptions about Zakai being evil. Though I’d been a bit anti-all-rulers there for a while. Right now, my ignorance about the ins and outs of my powers and the familial bond with Draedyn was threatening to overwhelm me. There wasn’t space for anything else.

  Yet there had to be.

  I nodded to let Niemoj know I was listening.

  “There was some belief that you could trick the evil ones, that those who stole children in the middle of the night only wanted the best children. If parents loved their child, then those were the children to take.”

  That was some twisted logic. That was like saying your pancakes tasted bad just so no one else would want any. “So if you were unloved, the emperor and his Druman wouldn’t steal you?”

  Niemoj looked at his brother.

  In a softer tone, Nielub said, “Our father, Andrik, meaning brave, died before we were born. He was taken to war by the emperor. My mother’s father, Jedrik, meaning strong, was taken just before her brother, Milos, was born.”

  “Let me guess, Milos means loved?”

  Nielub shook his head and stripped the husk off another ear of corn. “It means most favored.”

  “And he went to serve in the war?” I asked. These people had some seriously sad family history.

  “Maybe. He was taken when he was ten. The Druman swept through Wojslav and took a dozen boys and a dozen girls. Our mother was spared because one of the neighbors said she was worthless.”

  “So your mother named you after what she believed would save you?” I felt like I was barely grasping the edges of their stories. Not that I didn’t understand the words, but the paradigm of their childhood sounded more like . . . like the whispered stories I’d heard as a kid and always thought were just tales from the emperor meant to scare us into submission.