Power of invisibility, huh? I liked it. I nodded sagely. “Practice hard, soldier.”
He bowed low, and Tyrrik coughed again, not speaking until the guard had joined the line leaving the forest.
“You’re going to call your veil that from now on, aren’t you?” Tyrrik asked. He ducked us into our tent.
“Hmm, what?” I asked as he set me on top of a blanket, and I lolled there like a blob. “What are you talking about?”
“The power of invisibility.”
“Oh that,” I said casually. “Maybe. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
Eyes narrowed, he stared at me until I couldn’t hold my grin in. He snorted and dropped from his stooped position to sit by my side. I wasn’t sure who’d carried our tent and set it up, but I was glad for it. Really glad. Like, I would maybe show the person something from my hoard in return. Except I’d hidden it back in Gemond, so it would have to be an IOU one glimpse at my hoard kind of thing.
The tent ceiling was low, only to the middle of Tyrrik’s chest, and the tent appeared to be made of a quilted material. Whoever put it up had strung it between two trees and then stretched out either side before lining the interior with soft cushions and two thick blankets.
There were perks to being a Drae-Phaetyn with the power of invisibility.
“Aren’t you tired?” I asked Tyrrik, who was staring out the entrance to the tent.
“After my battle with the one-eyed squirrel? Exhausted.”
He blinked and picked up my legs, removing my boots. I groaned as he rubbed my calves.
“Sweet potato pancakes,” I mumbled. “Please don’t ever stop doing that.”
“I’m not inclined to when you make sounds like that.” He kneaded the muscles down, rotating my ankles before moving onto my feet.
At this rate, I’d be asleep in the next few minutes, but there was one thing I needed to do first. I handed Tyrrik the pouch of seeds and said, “Would you go scatter some of these outside. We’re going to need to eat tomorrow.”
I pulled up the two thick blankets covering the ground and pressed my palm atop the dried pine needles beneath.
“Are you sure that’s wise, my love? You’ve expended a lot of energy today already.”
I yawned and shooed him toward the door. “I’m no use against Draedyn tonight anyway, and growing stuff doesn’t take much energy. But food will keep the army’s strength up so they can fight.”
Does this help? Tyrrik stared at me, and a moment later, the tendrils of his onyx power extended toward me. He pushed the tendrils into me, his energy seeping through the warmth of the power swirling around me. I sighed as the black threads settled back with mine into our normal intertwining bond.
“Better?” he asked.
“A bit, yes. How . . . Did you know that would work?”
I didn’t feel great, but he’d definitely restored some of my energy levels. I felt stronger.
He shrugged. “I didn’t know. But if you can strengthen me, it makes sense I could return the favor.”
Wow. How progressive. In Drae culture, the male was the strength and the female the peace-maker. She tempered his violence, and he protected her above all else. For Tyrrik to strengthen me spoke volumes, almost more than anything else he’d done. And if I had to keep a veil up for a long period of time, reversing the power boost could come in useful.
My heart swelled with emotion, but I swallowed my reaction, not wanting to embarrass him. “Thank you, my mate. I love you.”
He paused, his fingers still where he’d been massaging the front of my thighs, and whispered, “And I love you.”
Leaning forward, he plucked the seeds from my hand and stooped to exit the tent. I listened to him scatter the seeds around the clearing. He returned and replaced the packet in my aketon.
Boosted somewhat by his energy, I focused on my palm, shooting green Phaetyn energy into the ground. I kept up a steady trickle, stopping far before I usually would. Perhaps pumpkins don’t always need to be the size of a Drae.
With a fraction of my mind determined to understand my power and most of my attention on Tyrrik’s hands, I sunk into slumber.
The smell of damp dirt and leafy growth made me shiver and whimper. A heavy weight pressed on my mind because I knew what that smell meant. I opened my eyes, and horror’s vice-like grip forced the air from my lungs. I gasped, shallow breaths, trying greedily to take what I needed to remain calm.
But it wasn’t enough.
Tall sunflowers surrounded me, fully blossomed, their vibrant-yellow petals mocking me, taking me back in time, holding me prisoner there. I leapt from my bed, pushing the blankets to the ground, and reached for the nearest stalk, knowing time was running out. No one could see these flowers! The hairs of the spiky stems dug into my palms, but I ignored the discomfort and frantically yanked.
The soil released the shallow roots, and the sunflower pulled free. One down. I rotated, grabbing stems in each hand as I tried to clear my cell. One, two, five, twenty. Faster and faster.
If Jotun saw the growth, he would know what I was. He’d turn me into King Irdelron, and I would forever be a slave. They could hurt everyone I cared about. And if they knew I feared these things, they would use that knowledge against me.
My heart pounded as I ripped up bloom after bloom, twisting and snapping the thick stalks, my fear squeezing from my eyes and dripping into the rich dirt. I glanced behind, and a dismayed moan left my lips. Where I’d pulled out the sunflowers, more had grown, a lot more, at least two to three times as many, but bruised petals and broken stalks littered the ground too. Jotun would know I’d tried to hide the sunflowers.
They’d know what I feared.
The outer door clicked open, and I stilled at the sound of a blade on Ty’s bars. No, not a blade. A talon.
Lord Irrik was here to play his sick games once again. Only now I knew what would hurt him. I knew his weakness to Phaetyn power. I could exact my revenge.
I threw the flowers to the dank dungeon floor and gritted my teeth. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stood defiantly and waited. But confusion nagged at me, and I frowned. Why did I feel that Lord Irrik was . . . misunderstood?
I shook my head as the wisp of uncertainty was dragged away, and purpose infused me.
Lord Irrik crossed to my cell’s bars, the sleek and powerful lines of his frame gliding forward like liquid darkness. Jotun trailed behind with a cruel smile contorting his features.
“Take her to the torture room,” Lord Irrik said, his voice licking my soul with its warm embers. “Show her what we do to traitors.”
My stomach roiled, and the hatred I held for the Drae and his cruelty burned through my chest, stretching out to my extremities. He would pay for what he did to me and my mum. Shaking my head again, the doubt returned. This wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right. I was missing something about the Lord Drae. I glanced at the still-smirking Jotun. He was the enemy. I . . .
Bending forward, I clutched my head.
“Ryn?” Irrik said.
I jerked violently. Somehow, he’d gotten into my cell without opening my door. How was that possible? He loomed over me, his fingers tracing from my temple to my chin, his touch liquid fire. He nudged me, tilting my chin high, and then buried his face in my neck. His lips trailed kisses down my pulsing vein, and I gasped at the fire coursing through me.
The desire was forced away, and darkness replaced the fire.
This was Irrik’s game. The poisonous kiss of a Drae, meant to control me and force me to do his bidding. He was evil, wicked, his touch poison.
He needed to die.