by Raye Wagner
I wiggled and squirmed, splashing a little in the nectar, not even caring that I’d basically drunk my bath water. I took a deep breath and submerged myself, running my fingers through my thick hair still cropped unevenly in clumps but longer than I remembered. I opened my eyes, wishing I could see in the darkness, and jerked when my pale skin began to glow.
Irrik yanked me higher. His eyes were wide, his dark features frozen in shock. In my periphery, I saw a massive cave of jagged black stone, the expanse of it melting into the depths. An inkiness that seemed to go on forever. But my attention was drawn to the Drae standing in the pool of clear liquid.
“Turn it off,” he ordered, mottling and shifting into scales the same color as the rock. But pulsing underneath the black plates of skin was a vibrant, electric blue. His muscles tightened, and his chest swelled. The water rippled with his unrest. In a hoarse tone, he said, “If you value your life, stop glowing.”
There was nothing threatening in his tone. In fact, the air sizzled with his panic. Just like that, as if my power understood his fear, the pale silvery light was gone and we were lost in the darkness. My mind reeled with confusion. “What was that?”
He sighed. “A Phaetyn is light and life as surely as a Drae is darkness and death.”
His grip on my arm tightened, and he drew me closer, before lifting me out of the water. Honestly, I used a similar technique to wash my clothes in Zone Seven. Dunk the tunic, give it a swish, and then pull the drenched tunic out. I felt like a tunic. But as he lifted me out of the water, my thigh brushed his chest. He said nothing as he set me on the stone ledge, but I closed my eyes at the searing sensation caused by the simple touch.
Holy-freaking-Drae.
The water swished and droplets poured from Irrik as he climbed out. I patted the ground, feeling for the aketon he’d mentioned, my skin prickling with energy.
“Here,” he said, his gravelly voice a whisper on my neck.
Blushing, I straightened, and he pulled the garment over my head.
Drak. What was wrong with me? Yes, he was hotness with wings, but he was the Drae. I delivered a major reality check to myself as I wrapped the ties of the aketon as tightly as possible. The stupid thing was so big I practically swam in it. “What about my clothes?”
He snorted. “They’re ruined.”
Of course they were. I patted the thin fabric to my body, letting the cloth wick the moisture from my skin, then pulled the bottom hem up to my head.
“What are you doing?” he asked, clearing his throat.
“Drying my hair,” I said, words muffled between the folds of fabric. “It’s cool in here, and my wet hair is making it worse.”
I did the best I could, but my hair was still damp. With a sigh, I let the aketon fall to my knees and turned to the left. “What’s next? Did I get my work done? Are we staying here for a while?”
“I’m over here,” he said from my right with a low chuckle. “We’re going back to Seven. It’s only afternoon, and you have several hours of work to finish before we return to the castle at sundown.”
I took a deep breath, wishing there was some way to not have to go back. I never wanted to see the damage, the ruination, of Harvest Zone Seven ever again. With Seven gone, there was no hope of ever getting a message to Cal, because I had no idea where Dyter would now be or if he was even alive. Which meant Ty’s plan was no longer an option. All my hopes for escape had gone up in smoke with those I loved and their homes. I dropped my chin to my chest, sucking in air as I fully grasped the king’s blow. He’d swiped away my home and unknowingly destroyed my hope, just like that. I glared into the darkness as determination pulsed through me. I was not going to let him destroy my land, my home, and my family and not pay for it.
“Irrik?” I asked. “Did . . . anyone live?”
He paused. “Most got out.” His tone was foreboding, and I knew not to press him further. I didn’t need to. Most got out. My heart tripped with hope at his words. Maybe Arnik and Dyter had escaped. Perhaps they were still okay.
The time in the pool of nectar had healed my body and rejuvenated me. The news from Irrik regarding the inhabitants of Seven still being alive made me giddy. The darkness offered enough anonymity that I braved a question I’d long wondered. “Is it true about your oath to the king?”
If I could understand this, maybe I could understand Irrik. Here in his lair, I dared to ask him, and in my mind I dared him to answer.
He stood in front of me now. I felt him, his strong presence, the warmth radiating from his chest, reeling me closer. He rested his hands on my shoulders, and I looked up. But I was blind in the darkness. He could’ve stuck his tongue out at me and I wouldn’t know. I chuckled with the ridiculousness of the thought. Warm tingles of energy spread from where his hands were, and my thoughts went to another time when his mouth had been on mine. My heart quickened, and yearned to close the distance, even as warning bells chimed in my head.
“Whatever ideas you have for escape, forget them,” he said, his voice husky. He stepped closer, pushing his body to mine as one arm encircled my waist, holding me flush. “Whatever traitorous aspirations you’re hoping for, let them go. More than anything, don’t trust anyone.”
We were playing a game of chicken with our words, and he was pushing me with his body. I swallowed my nervousness and pressed back. My hands slid up his chest, and I smirked when he sucked in a breath. “What about you?” I whispered, playing with the tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck. “Should I trust you?”
Despite the playfulness of my question, it was in earnest. I wasn’t ignorant that Lord Irrik had helped me more than once. But his motivation eluded me. Certainly, his game with the king wasn’t that twisted. Was it?
The Drae’s chest rose and fell against mine. He circled the back of my neck with his hands, setting every nerve ending in my body on fire. He lowered his head, his breath caressing my skin with the sweet smell of the nectar, and I licked my lips and inhaled. Irrik kneaded my neck with his fingertips and spread his hands over my back. With a gentle touch, he massaged my shoulders, working out knots I didn’t even know I had. I moaned, and he kneaded harder, down my back, and when his hands fell to my waist, he pulled me to him.
“Especially not me,” he said with an exhale.
A stupor blanketed the warning voice in my mind, and I pushed closer, threading my fingers into his damp hair.
Black scales appeared at the top of his chest, the centers pulsing blue. His nose skimmed the soft skin of my neck, tracing under my jaw to my ear. He pushed his lips to my neck in soft kisses. He nipped, and I threw my head back to give him better access.
My mind clouded with desire and want, and the voice of warning faded. I forgot everything else except my need for him. Gripping his shoulders, I begged, “Please.”
He growled, a low sound of lustful hunger that called for me to feed him.
“Please,” I whispered, standing up on my tiptoes, pushing my body to his as I pulled him to me.
He crushed his mouth to mine.
Energy pulsed between us, a mixture of longing, need, desperation, and something so strong I couldn’t even put a name to it. I clung to him as he kissed me, and when my lips were free, I murmured his name, which brought his lips back to me.
“Sleep,” he said.
My knees grew weak, and a blissful torpor settled over my consciousness. I reached up in the darkness to touch his face, to caress his cheek, and to touch his lips again.
“Tako mi je žao,” he whispered.
I awoke with a start, lying in the dirt out in the vineyards, clutching my arm to my chest. What the hay happened?
“Ah, she’s awake,” Irdelron said.
My arm burned, and I stared at it through bleary eyes. It was slashed. Four deep cuts, evenly spaced, were spread from my shoulder to my wrist on my left arm. The blood oozed in rivulets of maroon, soaking into my borrowed aketon. Irrik cut me? On purpose?
“I see you were right. The vineyard is already muc
h improved in the areas you have used the watering experiment,” said King Irdelron.
“Much more could have been accomplished today if Jotun could keep his hands to himself,” Irrik said, his face smooth.
Irdelron turned and addressed another. “Do you see? Brutality for its own sake is wasted. This is why he will always be my first and you my second, Jotun.”
I risked a glance up. The sun blinded me, and I couldn’t see their faces. But I could feel Jotun’s hatred as much as I could feel the sun on my face and the dirt on my hands.
“Take him back,” Irrik said. “It’s difficult enough to get results out of her without having to watch over him and his Druman.”
Irdelron’s cruel laugh made my stomach lurch. “You mean your Druman, Irrik.”
My vision returned, but I kept my gaze low, away from the sun’s punishing light. I saw Irrik’s hands clenched in fists, but he said nothing in response to Irdelron’s comment.
“Very well,” Irdelron said. “Jotun, it appears you and the Druman aren’t needed at this time, after all.”
The king moved away and barked, “Back to the castle.”
I closed my eyes, remaining silent. What did it say about me that I would happily live with scars on my arm if it meant Jotun and his men would be gone. When I heard the bugs chirp and the birds trill again, I knew the king and his entourage were gone. The pain in my arm was waning, my Phaetyn powers helping to speed the healing process.
“Here,” Irrik said, tossing a water skin at me. “Here’s some . . . nectar.”
I flipped the lid off and took a sip. The velvety liquid quenched my thirst. Its sweetness coated my tongue and slid down my throat. “It seems thicker,” I said, “more concentrated.”
He snorted. An answer that was no answer. We were back to that again.
“Pour it on your wounds,” he said. “Then get back to work.”
But I want to know what a Druman is. I watched his dark figure retreat several paces away to a thick wall of green vines dotted with clusters of deep-purple grapes. The vines were thick and at least a head taller than the Drae.
The Drae grabbed a basket and extracted a thin sheet of material from within, spreading it over the ground. Then he sat with his legs extended in front of him, hands propping him up.
Scowling, he stared up at the blue sky.
I wanted to say something, but I wasn’t sure what to say. Should I be grateful or angry? He’d hurt me, yes, but he’d also healed me. This was all kinds of messed up. I kept my thoughts to myself and dribbled the viscous solution on my arm, rubbing the thick fluid into my wounds. My skin responded, knitting together from the inside out until only a thin pink line remained. I took another draught of the nectar, this time a long one, and let it work its magic from within.
The buckets had been discarded all over the vineyard, and I picked up several empty ones and went looking for a stream.
I shouted my intentions to the Drae, but when he didn’t even glance my way, I figured that was consent enough. As I rounded the corner and he didn’t stop me, a weight lifted from my heart.
There was no one watching me . . . for the first time in months.
Irrik was around the corner, but still, I was out of direct sight. I burst into a sprint, row upon row blurring in my vision, until I stopped at the end of the vineyard and dropped the pails. I dug my toes into the soil and let the energy of the ground seep through my skin. I lifted my arms to the sky and, closing my eyes, turned around, feeling free for the first time in as long as I could remember.
Faux freedom? Undoubtedly. But freedom from Jotun and the king for one glorious moment was freedom, nonetheless.
“Ryn?”
The voice hit me like a slug to my stomach, and I stopped spinning with a gasp. My gaze locked with his, and I blinked, willing him to not be an apparition of my desperate mind.
Arnik didn’t disappear.
He and several other people I recognized were scattered amongst the rows. My eyes widened, and I shook my head and held my finger to my lips. If Irrik heard them, he’d come.
Arnik nodded and tilted his head to the side, toward the rows of still anemic vines.
My heart filled with joy so strong I thought I would lift off the ground. I ran down the row, ducking between the scraggly vines until several rows separated me from the Drae.
When Arnik rounded the corner, I crashed into him and wrapped my arms around his waist. I clung to him, smelling the sunshine of my childhood, the steadiness of his friendship, and the hope of my dreams. He was really here. “You’re alive. I didn’t know. Zone Seven was burned to the ground, and I didn’t know.” Tears ran over my cheeks.
“Ryn,” he whispered, cupping my face in his hands. “Drak. I can’t believe it’s you.” He fingered my hair and looked into my eyes. “You’re really here.”
He brushed his thumbs over my cheeks, and I smiled at him, ready to burst.
“I have to hurry. We don’t have much time,” I said. I pulled him down so we were nestled between vines, a poor attempt at stealth considering the sparseness of the crop here.
“What do you mean? You need to come with me, now. I can get you out of here. We’ll hide you—”
“It won’t work. I-I’m . . .” The word got stuck in my throat.
“You’re the Phaetyn,” he whispered. “We know. We’ve been watching you for weeks, waiting for a shot. We’ve seen what happens to a field after you’ve been there.”
I stared at him. “You know?”
He nodded, smiling. “You’re the last Phaetyn, Rynnie. I could hardly believe it. But then I began to remember some stuff your mum used to do, being so meticulous about the water in your house . . .”
“I’m pretty sure she used to make me rub an ointment on that stopped me from healing. I heal really fast.”
Arnik swallowed. “You do?”
I could practically hear the questions about to burst from his lips.
“Arnik, listen. You need to get a message to Cal. You need to make sure he knows the king has a Phaetyn in his power. And . . . I met a friend. He said to tell Cal that if the rebels kill the king, the Drae will be free from his oath. That he might join the rebels.” I agreed with Ty now. I didn’t think we needed to worry about Irrik if he wasn’t under the king’s control.
Arnik worked his mouth, open, closed, open, closed. Nothing came out.
I glanced behind, aware that sooner or later, Irrik would come after me. When I turned back to Arnik, he was shaking his head.
“What?” I asked.
“How could you know that? How could anyone know that?”
I replayed the last minute in my mind and realized he was talking about what Ty told me about the oath. I understood his doubt, but he didn’t know Ty like I did. “His family was raised near the Drae, before Irrik was oath bound. His father told him. Plus, he’s been a prisoner in the castle for a long time.”
“Wait,” he said, drawing back to look me in the eye, “Whose father? Who told you?”
“Ty. He’s my dungeon buddy.” When Arnik frowned, I amended, “He’s in the cell next to mine.”
Arnik pulled me close again and kissed my forehead. “Drak. I’ve been sick with worry. Are you al’right? You look like . . .”
He was asking if they’d mistreated me. What could I say to that? Should I tell him of the horror of my dungeon life? If I did, what purpose would it serve, except to make him worry more?
“I’m fine,” I lied, dropping my gaze to the ground.
He sighed, his chest pushing against mine with his breath. “I miss you so much, Ryn.”
My throat clogged as I thought of my mother, Dyter, and the life I’d had. All of it gone in a blink, along with the rest of Harvest Zone Seven.
“I have to go,” I said.
Arnik held me fast.
“It’s time to leave, Ryn,” Irrik growled, a second before he yanked me out from under the vines. “Tell your lover goodbye.”
The ringing note
of finality in his voice made me twist to face the Drae. I saw his eyes, cold and reptilian, and I shook my head. “No, Irrik, please.”
His jaw widened, and his face seemed to swell, and I knew he was shifting. I wasn’t letting him kill the one friend I had left. I grasped his half-Drae, half-human face in my hands. Razor sharp fangs sliced through the soft pad of my thumb, and I hissed at the sting.
“No,” I pleaded, pulling my hands away. “Don’t—that’s my only friend, Irrik. Please don’t kill him.”
His features snapped back to human, and he shoved me away, down into the dirt. “Go home, human. Don’t contact her again.”
I couldn’t watch Arnik leave. I just listened as his running footsteps faded.
“There’s work to do,” Irrik said.
25
“Where are we going?” I asked Irrik. My head was fuzzy with fatigue, and it took me longer than it should’ve to notice we were taking a different direction through the castle than we had for weeks. He wasn’t leading me to my new room. My eyes widened. He was—
“Where are you taking me?” I blurted.
“The dungeon,” he said in a cool voice.
“What? Why?” I shrilled, desperately. I remembered the darkness and Jotun’s thudding footsteps as he’d come to collect me for more torture. Nearing the edge of hysteria, I tried to reason with Irrik. “I haven’t been there for weeks.”
Irrik gripped my arm lightly, probably sensing I was about to bolt. “Because, Phaetyn, you must learn that what is given can be taken away just as easily. Today, you spoke to your friend. Do you know what Jotun or the king would’ve done to him for that? What I’m still contemplating doing? You would be punished, too.”
I shut my mouth at his threat against Arnik.
As we wound down the stairs that haunted my dreams, my thoughts went from Jotun to the other occupants of the prison. I’d be able to talk to Ty. My heart leaped at the thought that Tyr might come to see me as well. The Drae glanced at me with one eyebrow raised, and I wiped my smile away. His previous warnings about showing affection for Tyr rang in my ears.
