You mentioned spawning?
I’d mentioned the word errantly, and so my reply was flippant. I like practicing.
I could feel through the mate bond how much my answer meant to him, so I considered my words before answering further. He was over one hundred years old; he might’ve wanted Drae babies for longer than I’d been alive.
I want to have Drae babies with you, I said. But I’m also younger than you. I feel . . . I feel I’m getting better, stronger, and a bit wiser. But I don’t know if I’m ready for little Tyrriks yet. We have time though, right? If we lost the war, my answer was pointless anyway. I closed my eyes, refusing to think of what might happen to Tyrrik if we lost.
We have time, he replied. And experience and wisdom will be good for you and them.
Good. Besides, I want to get my treasure stash all set up too.
He swept his great head to look at me. Of course. That’s a given. I’ll extend my trove into a cavern beautiful enough for my mate—
I was glad we were on the same page about babies and the privacy thing.
You will store your treasures there and then have our babies throughout the ages.
At least I thought we were on the same page. It bothered me we hadn’t come to a compromise on the ‘don’t leave my side’ issue. Maybe I shouldn’t have brushed him off earlier, but I hadn’t wanted to ruin the mood.
Before long, the trailing members of King Zakai’s army were visible dots moving on the stoney ground far below. As we descended, I shivered with how easy it would be for the emperor to spot them. He could unleash a jet of fire upon the army and kill them all without even landing.
Good thing Tyrrik and I were here now. But still . . . Hey, can you attack my mind for a bit? I need some practice.
I instantly turned my attention inward, knowing he wouldn’t delay. I imagined my mind as a ball and then drew the blue tendrils of my Drae power away from my mate, ignoring the hollowness in my chest as I did so. I wound the tendrils of power around my mind, thread by thread in a sort of turban-like shield. Working as fast as I mentally could, I thickened the glowing blue strands creating a shiny defense to outside attack.
Tyrrik’s mental blow hit my forehead with the force of a battering ram. I roared, feeling the buffer around my mind dissolve instantly, the power rebounding back to coil with Tyrrik’s black tendrils.
Drak! I snapped my fangs in frustration. Why can’t I get it? I’ve actually gotten worse. I didn’t even hold you out for a single second this time.
We are fully mated now. Keeping me out will be much harder.
Great, I grumbled. Not that I wanted to keep him out. I was long past that. But if I couldn’t keep Tyrrik out, would I be able to keep my father out?
Try again, my queen. You are creating a barrier. Why don’t you try making the barrier harder or thicker?
Al’right. I wound my tendrils around my head again, coiling them tight, and then imagined the individual tendrils merging into one thick shell as though my spiked tail was wrapped around my mind. I knew Tyrrik was giving me too much time, time the emperor wouldn’t give me, but I focused on hardening the Drae shield, making it an impenetrable diamond.
I nodded, not breaking my concentration. And Tyrrik attacked.
The battering ram struck me just as hard, and I clung to my wall. Diamond, diamond, diamo—
My blue power shattered like glass sugar, the shards blasting inward, and pain stabbed my temples. I reached for the pieces, straining to catch them and form a shield. But once again, the blue energy was drawn back to Tyrrik’s power.
I opened my eyes and sighed, the sound coming out my Drae mouth as a weary groan.
That was better, Tyrrik said. You kept me out for a few seconds, and even then, I couldn’t immediately seize control.
I felt like I’d played my first game of hopscotch and Tyrrik was telling me I wouldn’t fall and scrape my knee next time. Thanks. Perhaps it’s like my Phaetyn veil, and I just need to strengthen the muscle.
We’ll keep trying. We have weeks, maybe even a couple of months before we’ll reach the heart of the empire.
That didn’t mean Draedyn wouldn’t find us first. My thoughts stirred uneasily as I scanned the ground again. We were nearing the front of the procession and descended side-by-side. Soon after, we shifted and strode back through the first ten rows of gold-plated soldiers to reach Zakai and Dyter.
“Hey,” I said, pretending the entire army hadn’t left the Gemond Mountains and neither Tyrrik nor I noticed because we’d had our clothes off.
King Zakai nodded, graciously playing along. “I’m glad to see familiar faces. The sky had been worrying me. I’m afraid we are easy targets out here.”
They are, Tyrrik said.
I hummed in agreement. “You are vulnerable from the sky. Tyrrik and I can help if the emperor attacks, but I don’t want to rely on that.”
Phaetyn veil.
I wasn’t sure if the thought was mine or my mate’s—it didn’t matter.
The army was huge, not as big as Zivost, but I’d need to create a veil, larger than any I’d made before, and definitely larger than I was capable of holding for any length of time. Just more mind-muscle work.
“You have a solution?” Zakai asked, rubbing a hand over his shorn scalp. He looked younger without the long, stringy hair he’d had when I first met him.
“Your Phaetyn veil?” Dyter said, joining us. He was quick on the uptake as always.
Walking beside the king, I replied, “I’m not making promises, but I should be able to cover some of the army if we’re attacked by Druman or Draedyn.”
“What if the army could converge into a smaller space if we’re attacked from above?” Tyrrik asked. I watched him, noticing he took one stride for every two of mine.
Zakai glanced over his shoulder at his son and Gairome who were listening. “What do you think?”
Zarad pursed his lips. “It could be done, of course. In an orderly fashion. My only worry is if our army sees the emperor, they’ll panic and hurt each other.” He paused. “I shall run drills on this when we stop for the night.” He glanced up at Tyrrik and asked, “My Lord Drae, would you be willing to help?”
Tyrrik consented, and Zakai smiled at his son. I felt a pang as I thought of my mother’s smiles.
“I’ll get practicing on that veil then.” I can do this, I decided. Maybe only a quarter of the army to start. But I could do this for Gemond. If I didn’t try, I’d be the one to blame for any life I could’ve saved.
I glanced back at the army behind us and blinked as I encountered the burning gaze of the young man who’d hurled accusations at me yesterday before I grew the potatoes. His anger made me frown and face forward, marching in time with the Gemondians. What had happened to their kingdom was horrible, and yes, I felt some responsibility. That I should shoulder more of the burden for what happened to them hadn’t occurred to me until the soldier behind me shocked me with his vitriolic opinion.
No matter what I thought about myself, those around me saw me as a Phaetyn-Drae, someone with enough power to change the outcome of this war and this world. They didn’t see me but rather a person capable of things they could never do.
As much as I had shied away from taking responsibility for the kingdom’s future since learning of my powers, I now saw I shouldn’t be shirking away from taking any burden either. I was a Drae and a Phaetyn; hadn’t Mum talked about power and responsibility?
Protecting the Gemondian army was one of those responsibilities I needed to pick up. I’d do for them what Lani was doing for her people. And when Verald and Azule joined us, I’d work harder again to protect them all. I had great power, and I guess that came with great—and mostly unwanted—responsibility. But now, I was done running. I had to step up.
I’m going to be working on my veil until we stop, I informed Tyrrik.