I could feel him mentally scrambling, but he blocked me from his thoughts, so all I could feel was his anxiety. I sent him a pulse of my energy as I ran toward him, following the wisps of our connection. I rounded the corner and skidded to a stop when I arrived at the same passage as before. But then I hesitated, focusing hard because my mind was telling me Tyrrik was straight ahead . . . through the solid stone wall.
I glanced at the irregular opaque glass on the door to my right which I knew concealed a stairway. I tapped on the wall, but where I could feel him sounded solid, the glass as thick as a normal stone wall. Had they gone into the stairwell and then dropped down somehow? Or did one of the adjacent passages have an entrance to the room beyond?
I examined the entire stretch of wall, but there was only the one door. I gently opened it and listened hard. Nothing.
My jaw was still clenched as I closed my eyes at the base of the stairs. I imagined my Phaetyn veil as strong as diamond. Not sure if that would help, but while I was imagining, I wrapped my Drae tendrils around my mind, thicker, thicker until the weight of the veil and shield felt mentally heavy. After all that practice, surely the emperor wouldn’t be able to get through. The Drae powers alone, maybe. Phaetyn powers, no way. Together, I was invincible.
Ryn. You need to get out of here.
I can help you. I’ve got my veil going strong. I’m good. I wanted to yell at him. Tyrrik should be here with me, by my side, or me with him. But he’d left me behind like a coward. He had patronized me for months with platitudes about us being stronger together. And even though I’d seen the panic in his eyes and felt it as he breathed into my face, that didn’t excuse his action.
I could guess at the reason behind his choice to take my will, but I needed Tyrrik to know that he couldn’t do that to me if we were going to be together. Because what he’d done? That wasn’t love even if I could understand the fear that had driven him to act in such a way.
Inhaling the scent of dust and wood and man, I opened my eyes, tilted my head up, and began up the stairs, flinching when the wood creaked underfoot. Someone needed to oil these—or whatever people did to stop stairs from creaking.
The closer I moved to the top of the stairs, the more I could feel power, and I assumed that meant my father was still here. But wouldn’t he have felt me while I was asleep? If he knew I was here, why wait to take control? I hadn’t had my veil on while I was sleeping, but he hadn’t attacked. Nearing the top, I stopped again, realizing I hadn’t thought this through, entirely.
Ryn—
Because now I was certain the emperor was still here. I could . . . feel his power on the other side of the door at the top of the stairs, the oiliness of it, just like when he’d coated my mind. The dark power left a sour taste in my mouth.
Tyrrik’s control disappeared, and his energy whipped through me. I heard Nielub tell Zarad to not be a fool through Tyrrik, and then I was hit by my mate’s overwhelming drive to protect me. He growled low.
Tyrrik, I’m fine.
I glanced behind me, straining my ears again, but the only sounds of activity were the clamor at the other end of the castle. Uneasiness tightened my chest, and I didn’t shift from my position four steps from the top.
If my father was up there, wouldn’t there be some kind of noise? I concentrated on my connection with Tyrrik and asked, How do I get to you?
I wasn’t a fool. I had no intention of taking on my father alone. I had my veil up, but I could sense Draedyn’s powers from here. I didn’t want to risk him sensing me somehow—even if it was by smell or sound.
You can’t right now. You would have to come into the throne room.
Is there another way?
I don’t know, Ryn. Please . . . I need you to be safe. His body trembled as he fought the urge to dart out of his hiding place and come to me. Which meant he was hiding very close to danger. And I could guess that meant he was near the emperor.
If the emperor had been able to sense me lurking in the stairwell, I’d already be in his clutches. I’d check another way first, some place my father’s power wasn’t looming. Turning, I lowered my foot to the step but froze as the door opened below. Please be a breeze . . . in the middle of the palace.
What?
Voices rose from the foyer, followed by the creaking of weight on the stairs. My heart pounded, and with nowhere else to go, I tiptoed up the remaining steps and twisted the door knob with my sweaty hand. My insides churned, my heart pumping out dread with every beat. Easing the door open a crack, I peeked through, relief washing through me when I saw the space was empty. I slipped into the room and closed the door behind me.
Hidey, hidey, hidey.
The space was an alcove, sparsely furnished with an old rickety table and chair and several rows of bookshelves. The opposite wall was not really a wall. The waist-high structure was made up of ornamental balusters of twisted glass with a thick and wide handrail. Across the distance were similar rooms with half-walls and balusters. The makeshift desk was empty except for the scuffs and nicks from years of use. The balcony opened over a larger space, but before I could look, I heard the men talking on the landing just outside.
My mouth dried as the door opened, and I spun in the middle of the space as two Azulis walked through the entry. I waited for one of them to gasp or shout when they noticed me, and I morphed my talons in anticipation. I was so consumed in the moment I couldn’t even hear Tyrrik. I could do this. I could do this.
But their conversation didn’t even falter.
Relief, both mine and Tyrrik’s, flooded me. I nearly snorted aloud but settled for a shake of my head. Phaetyn veil—I wasn’t sure if the thought was mine or Tyrrik’s, but neither of us cared.
I side-stepped to let them pass by and then trailed in their wake as they crossed the space to the shelves and then disappeared. I sank into a crouch.
I was close enough to the edge to see that the room was a veiling balcony, and a thin path ran either way, giving access to the bookshelves lining the walls around the room’s perimeter. The space below had a glass ceiling. I peeked around the corner of the bookshelves and saw the two Azulis men walking down a small, spiraling stairwell, and I grinned.
I think I found my way to you.
Tyrrik’s attention was fixed on the Gemondian prince. Zarad and Gairome were arguing about visiting the harbormaster while they had the chance. Nielub, Niemoj, Tyrrik, and Dilowa were trying to explain why the idea was unwise.
Feeling a little sheepish because what I was doing might be called that, I duck walked—still in my crouch—to the balustrade of the balcony and pressed my face between two of the pillars to glance down.
The balcony looked down upon a room below, circular like the rest of the area, but a thick layer of glass covered the space underneath the balcony where I huddled. Whoa. That’s why I hadn’t heard anything. The muffled murmurs were only just discernible now.
I frowned, shifting my position to see more. Lots of people down there, Azulis judging by the fabric they wore. From my current angle, I couldn’t make out more.
I swallowed, debating my next move. But I could feel Tyrrik now, and he was closer, so I slowly stood, torn between wondering if I was moronic, courageous, or hopefully safe with my Phaeytn veil on. Maybe a mixture. I gripped the edge of the balustrade and, with only as much of my head showing as necessary, peeked over the side.
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