The elderly and children had departed yesterday at first light for Verald, escorted by a guard of fifty. The rest of the Phaetyn, the vast majority, would march under Lani’s barrier toward Gemond. Tyrrik and I would fly ahead to alert King Zakai.
The morning light had chased away the largest of my doubts. There was so much I had no control over, but Dyter and Cal had been planning this for years. When we got back, a group of us would push on to Azule and rally them to our side. It wouldn’t matter that I had no experience in a war of this magnitude; I was surrounded by those whose only thoughts for years were of tearing down Draedyn. I wasn’t in this alone, and I had to remember that in the days ahead.
“Have you got everything you need?” Tyrrik asked Lani.
She shrugged. “We won’t want for food, and I’ll cloak us the entire way. We have plenty of weapons coated in our blood.” Her face twisted. “I sincerely hope we come across some Druman on the way.”
I wasn’t the only one who wanted revenge, and I suspected Lani’s urge was motivated even more by the need to prove herself to her people.
Me? I needed to make things right. I’d accepted blame for what happened, even if it was because I hadn’t done enough practice and not put enough stock in Tyrrik’s warning of what the emperor could do. I still had to make things right and get Kamoi and Kamini back. If anything happened to them, I’d never forgive myself.
“When do you leave?” I asked, dragging my focus back to the queen as the guard edged around Tyrrik and escaped the room.
“One hour.” Her voice was firm, but there was a wild look in her eyes as if she couldn’t believe what was happening.
I understood. None of this felt real even though the evidence was all around us. “Al’right,” I said, glancing between Tyrrik and the Phaetyn queen. I took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
The Phaetyn queen lifted her chin, the ghost of a smile softening her lips. She arched a brow and said, “You might want to get dressed first.”
13
Halfway to Gemond, the sharp, acrid smell of ash settled on the tip of my sensitive tongue. I exhaled, hoping the scent would diminish as we flew—perhaps the smoke was just a fire from one of the settlements of Gemond elders. Maybe they were burning their useless huts and making their way back to the hub of the kingdom now that the land was healing.
The darkness of night did nothing to obstruct my vision in this form, but the jutting peaks of the mountain ranges hid the valleys ahead, and the low-hanging clouds concealed the rising trail of the smoke.
Do you smell that?
I swallowed before answering. I’d hoped it was just me.
No. Definitely not just you.
The strain in Tyrrik’s voice was palpable through our mental bond. When he increased his speed, I knew something was wrong.
What is it? I narrowed my eyes. Don’t tell me you can see through clouds. Because that would not be fair.
What clouds? he asked, glancing up at the sky. Ryn . . .
I swiveled my long neck to glance up, and the stars winked at me. Peering back the way we’d come, I saw the velvet stretch of night to Zivost was blemished only by celestial lights. I faced Gemond again, flattening my Drae form to cut through the air, and Tyrrik’s sympathy hit me.
I stared at the haze as the smell of smoke got stronger and stronger. We were still quite a way from Gemond . . .
What was on fire? Something huge to cause this much smoke. My heart fell, and a crushing weight forced the air from my lungs. My vision blurred, but the murkiness covering the tops of the mountains didn’t fade. Mistress Moons. Where was it coming from? I pumped my wings harder, sucking in the pungent air, the stench growing with every mile, and my certainty of the smoke’s origin growing with it.
The smoke hung over the main center of the Gemond kingdom. Tyrrik pushed us higher into the clean air, but the closer we got, the higher we were forced to go to escape the pollution.
The sun rose, and with the light of day, the gray haze hung over the entire Gemond valley. When we finally descended into the kingdom proper, my mind blanked as I surveyed the destruction.
The homes of the Gemondians were gone as were the barns, the market buildings, shops, storehouses . . . every single structure was destroyed. The scorched ground extended as far as I could see. Only three charred walls, the remains of the buildings, jutted out of the blackened earth like broken, crumbling teeth. The closer we got to the mountain where Zakai’s castle resided, the heavier my heart became until I was swallowing back nausea.
There were no pieces of the past, no evidence of the people who’d once resided in this land. There was only the befouled ground, the deathly white ash, and the noxious smoke rising in the air.
It is not your fault.
I couldn’t respond. How could he say that? He’d only left Gemond to protect me because Draedyn . . . Draedyn had exposed our weaknesses and capitalized on them. Tyrrik had responded to my fear. If it wasn’t my fault, then whose fault was it? Certainly not Zakai’s or Zarad’s or the other people of Gemond who willingly sent their quotas and their sons to the emperor. None of them had plotted to rebel, not until we landed in their kingdom a couple weeks ago.
Do you think anyone is still alive?
Hopefully they’re safe in the mountain.
Tyrrik’s words felt flat, and his attempt at reassurance did nothing to soothe my fear or guilt. The entire kingdom couldn’t fit in Zakai’s castle. There was no way most of the people outside would’ve had enough warning to get in there. How many had died? How many would we have left to fight?
Would Zakai still want to fight?
We should have been here. I should have dropped Lani and come straight back. Then I wouldn’t have been around for Draedyn to take over my mind and force me to hand Kamini over. And our absence wouldn’t have left our friends open to harm.
We can’t possibly be everywhere at once. They’ll understand this. Let’s go to the back. Tyrrik led the way to the other side of the mountain.
I expected him to fly deeper into the valley, but as we descended, the smoke clogged my throat, and I struggled to draw breath. Could anyone have survived? Yes, I told myself firmly. I refused to believe Dyter could be gone.
Zakai is smart, Tyrrik said. I’m sure they have contingency plans for attacks. He tucked his wings and angled down and then disappeared into the trees on the northern side of the mountains where he’d acted as a decoy to my departure to the Zivost not so long ago.
Trees!
I fed the spark of hope, focusing on the organic evidence that not all was burned to ash, and followed my mate. I flew between the scraggly pines, eyes scanning for any movement, uncertain if I should be relieved or devastated when there was none. No Gemondians, but also no Druman. Was that a good thing? I clung to hope until I reached the base of the mountain behind my mate. Relief flooded me when I saw Tyrrik already shifting to his human form, standing on a short ledge . . . next to Dyter.
I roared in joy and sped toward my friend. I’d never shifted mid-flight, but I’d seen Tyrrik do it several times. I belatedly realized Tyrrik made a lot of things look easy that weren’t. Tearing through the air like a Phaetyn projectile, I crashed into Dyter.
Tyrrik’s Drae reflexes stopped us from hurtling into the rocks. Instead, Tyrrik absorbed the impact of us, and of course, he was the first one on his feet. He offered Dyter a hand, letting me get up on my own. Perhaps put off by my scowl in response to his twitching lips.
“You’re okay,” I said, the tightness in my chest lessening as I buried myself in Dyter’s one-armed embrace.
“My girl,” Dyter said, choking on the words. He clung to me, patting my head, my back, and my hair.
I wasn’t sure if it was his body or mine that shook, but after the second drip of moisture hit my head, I realized Dyter was crying. A lump clogged my throat and I wiped away my own tears, pulling away just enough so I could see him.