“Dyter,” Tyrrik said firmly to the servant, evading his mouth with an expert dodge that attested to how many times he’d had to do it.
The man nodded, a sloppy grin plastered on his face as he stroked Tyrrik’s cheek. The servant then pivoted on one heel and marched back the way we’d come.
“Someone needs to go in ahead of me,” I whispered to the group.
“Don’t want to see Dyter doing it?” Nielub asked.
“Oddly enough, no,” I replied, shivering. “Would you want to see your mom playing cards?”
Niemoj frowned. “Playing cards?”
“What are you—” Nielub started to ask but cut off when Tyrrik glared at him.
The servant veered to the right, down a hallway less than half the size of where we’d been. The distance between torches more than doubled, and our group was forced into pairs in the narrow space.
“Anyone notice this hall seemed dark and generally foreboding?” Dilowa asked.
Yep, I silently agreed. But I’d learned there were worse things in life—like well-lit rooms full of naked people.
The servant took a left and then opened an opaque glass door flush to the wall that blended perfectly with the glass of the palace.
Niemoj held the door open, and I glanced back at Tyrrik who was just behind me and then pointed at the rickety stairs leading up. There was only enough room for us to go up in single file.
I don’t like it, Tyrrik said. Something feels off.
Obviously. There was nothing about Azule I liked, and everything felt off. But the servant is under your breath mojo.
I’m well aware. But Dyter wouldn’t have entered a place like this.
Not in his right mind. But I also never thought he’d disappear to do the horizontal jig, so I was officially floundering in new territory. I’m genuinely worried about him, Tyrrik, I admitted. Where was Dyter?
I’m going to check first. Please stay here.
I didn’t even have time to formulate a reply. Before I could open my mental mouth, he was gone, far beyond the servant who had only just ascended the first step, still under Tyrrik’s influence.
“Where did Lord Tyrrik go?” Dilowa asked, her gaze darting back the way we’d come.
“To check if it’s a trap,” I said with a sigh.
Feeling Tyrrik’s approach, I crossed my arms over my chest and pursed my lips. I was not happy about his chauvinistic check for danger attitude.
I blinked as he appeared, knowing he could feel my seething frustration, and snapped, “Well —”
He blew a lungful of breath in my face, his panic pulsing through our bond.
“What was that for?” I asked, waving the air away. His breath wouldn’t control me now, so what was he . . . My fingertips began to buzz, and I dropped my gaze to them. What did you just do?
A monstrous weight wrapped around my head, and I fought against the urge to close my eyes. I peered up at my mate with dawning horror. That weight . . . The blackness . . . That was his power.
The emperor is here, he spoke softly in my mind. I’m sorry, my love.
He flooded his power through our bond, and heavy lethargy spread down my shoulders, into my torso and down my legs. My knees trembled as I fought his control. Tyrrik, I slurred. Please don’t!
I have to, my love. Your Phaetyn veil has been down. His regret and sorrow pulsed into me as he pulled me toward unconsciousness. Sleep.
Even knowing it was my fault I’d dropped the veil in the orgy room, even knowing he could only control me if it was a life and death situation, I was angry. He’d said we were stronger together. My own failure was exacerbated by his betrayal. My knees buckled, and Tyrrik pulled me close, my forehead bouncing against his chest. I opened my mouth to scream at him, but darkness swallowed me whole.
The last thing I heard as I drifted out was Tyrrik’s choked voice whispering, Sleep.
25
I woke up livid. My fists were clenched almost as tight as my jaw, and I knew I wanted to hit someone. At first, I thought I’d been rudely awoken, but then the memory of my mate compelling me resurfaced, much like a slap to the face.
And my anger turned white-hot, building to don’t-touch-me-or-I’ll-kill-you-rage.
Knowing how much I hated what my father was doing to me, how much I’d trained to prevent the vile manipulation from the emperor, Tyrrik still thought he was somehow justified? The emperor had been up those stairs, and Tyrrik had reacted by taking me out of the equation? I was Ryn, the most . . . the freakin’ most powerful Drae-Phaetyn. What part of plan put-Ryn-to-sleep made the smallest amount of sense? Because my veil had been down? What did that matter if Tyrrik was near?
I opened my eyes and stared into darkness. With fury pulsing through me, partial shifting was just a blink away, and the darkness melted away with my Drae eyes.
Oh, no he didn’t. I looked at the small space, a broom and buckets and rags were shoved in the narrow closet. He’d chucked me in a closet. A cleaning closet. My chest rose and fell rapidly as my emotions climbed, and in a blur I was on my feet. My fingernails extended and tapered into deadly talons. I was going to throw him—
Ryn?
I paused, my hand poised at the door, ready to demolish, but his panicked voice made me pause.
You controlled me! You could’ve just had me—
Put your veil on!
Drak. I pulled the mossy-green Phaetyn power over me, still too angry to feel foolish for it not being the first thing I thought of since waking. Why did you do that? Where are you? I’m coming—
I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I thought you’d stay asleep longer—
Longer? I snarled. He still wanted me unconscious? Don’t you dare do that again. Ever.
The moment of hesitation between my demand and Tyrrik’s answer was enough to make my anger slip. I focused inward, gasping as I saw my vibrant-blue energy almost completely alone. He’d withdrawn most of his onyx tendrils from my powers; only threads of black lined my blue. I focused, harder, and felt a twinge of discomfort I knew wasn’t my own. He was there, but then why had he drawn his powers in?
I can’t put you under again. It would take too much energy from here. And we’re trying to find Dyter.
Guilt stung me, and my talons retracted an inch. Did you find him?
No. Not yet.
There was a moment of silence so profound I wondered if Tyrrik was still there. What are you doing—
Will you . . .
I waited, but he said nothing more. And now, with my fury interrupted, I couldn’t quite get the emotional vehemence back. Especially considering the reason for Tyrrik’s manipulation. Despite what I’d been through and my angry words, I’d let myself be controlled ten times over if Dyter’s safety was in the balance. The emperor was here, or had been, and might still be around. I wasn’t about to step out of the door without some precautions. I listened, letting my Drae senses pick up smells and sounds on the other side of the closet door: the clatter of dishes, the murmur of anxious speech, hurried footsteps. The briny smell of ocean was still heavy in the air. I was still in the Azule palace. With my next breath, I extended my moss-green Phaetyn veil just over the door.
Then I annihilated the wooden barrier.
Standing in the splintered remains of the cleaning supply closet, I panted and retracted my talons, feeling a little less hostile after a bit of exercise.
Will you please stay there until I can come for you?
Uhh, I’ve got my veil on. He can’t see me.
What? Ryn. Panic pulsed through the bond, and I got a glimpse of Tyrrik, Nielub, and Niemoj arguing with Gairome and Zarad. Where are you?
Focusing on Tyrrik’s location through our bond, I took off at a run. I’m coming to you.
No!