I dunked under the water again, rinsing the rest of my pain into the sulfurous liquid of the caverns. I steeled my heart. I needed to not feel, to not allow my emotions to rule my actions. I climbed out of the water and pulled my tunic over my wet body and dripping silver hair, fixing my face into an impassive mask.
“It’s fine,” I said to Draesi. “Her disappointment and frustration are her problems. I’m tired of having people, human, Druman, Drae, and Phaetyn, all try to use me to their ends. I will not be anyone’s tool.”
Except mine, Draedyn reminded me.
I rolled my eyes.
We crossed to the exit, and Draesi’s shoulders dropped, along with the corners of her mouth. “I understand why you feel that way.”
Well, that was a first. I appreciated that she didn’t push.
Draesi led me out of the caverns and back to my room. I changed into a dry tunic and offered one from my closet to the other Drae. The beautiful blond-turned-black-haired woman brushed out my hair and plaited it. Before I could offer to do the same, she gathered her dyed hair with nimble fingers into a braid, drawing the long length forward over her left shoulder. I couldn’t believe Draedyn made the women dye their hair to look the same. That was ten levels of sick. I wondered if he was trying to make them look like someone in particular.
“There now,” she said. “Let’s go have dinner. You hardly ate a thing at breakfast, and you slept through lunch.”
What a nice way to say that Draedyn had taken over my being, and I’d passed out and then gone through a whole bunch of weirdness over a bath. My stomach rumbled, reminding me of a lesson from the dungeons of Irdelron’s castle: hunger made even the smartest human or Drae foolish. I needed my wits about me.
We returned to the dining room where the other Drae sat around the rustic table, waiting. The scent of seared meat made my mouth water, and my father waved me to the head of the table, saying, “Thank you, Draesi, for your constancy. Heir, by me.”
Maybe that was why he didn’t call me by name, to avoid confusion. Nice. I trotted over to him like a good little daughter.
My father carved a large roast, the smells of garlic, rosemary, and fresh bread reinforcing my previous memory. As soon as the loaded plate was set in front of me, I reached for my knife and fork.
Someone sniffed, and I halted with the utensils in my hand, but the silverware was still touching the table.
With my head still down, I glanced left to see Draedyn now still, his hands frozen mid-slice of the thick cut of meat, and out to my right Draelys shook her head, her hands in her lap.
Seriously? I let the thought slip through. “Excuse me,” I said tightly and returned my hands to my lap. The food would just get cold.
I waited for everyone to be served and then raised my attention from my clenched hands. The large glass plates were laden with food: a thick slice of the meat, still pink all the way through, was surrounded by roasted root vegetables. Seeded brown bread sat to the side, and a crock of butter was being passed around the table.
I watched carefully and mimicked what Draelys did opposite me, all the way down to the way they buttered their bread.
And still no one ate. What was this torture? Give me pain, take my will, but do not get between me and rosemary potatoes.
“In honor of your fidelity, heir, we are having beef,” Draedyn announced. “Now, don’t worry, unlike some of your precious cattle, you did not know this cow.” His dark eyes gleamed.
“Was that meant to be a joke?” I gritted my teeth. Doubt about the origins of the meat in front of me held me back from the thick slice of steak. There was no reason for him not to hear my thoughts or feel my disgust, and I let my revulsion of his insinuation the meat was human flow freely to him.
A low growl rolled out from his lips across the table, making the glasses shake and the silverware rattle against the wood.
I straightened, squaring my shoulders. Even knowing he would feel the insincerity of my humility, I kept my gaze down.
“Yes,” he said. “But even with the insincerity, your actions are moving in a more desirable direction. And, you misunderstand me, heir. I would not have us be enemies. I don’t see any difference between humans and cattle. You have made your opinion on the matter quite clear.”
“So you’re saying this meat is cow; it’s not human?”
“It is cow,” he said simply. “Now eat it.”
My distrust did not ease as my father sliced into the meat, bringing bite after bite to his lips. The rest of the Drae women followed his example, but still I couldn’t bring myself to eat from the thick slice.
I ate the roasted potatoes, parsnips, and carrots. I added more butter to my bread and ate all of it, sipping on the wine and water by my plate. I kept my gaze fixated on the meat, cutting into it and then pushing the pieces aside for something else until it was the only thing remaining on my plate.
“You do not believe me?” he asked, his irritation pulsing through our bond. “Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever betrayed your trust?”
“What kind of question is that?” I replied. “You’ve stolen my will at least four times.” I met his gaze and continued, slowly, convinced of the veracity of my accusations. “And you would lie and betray me if it served your purpose. I can feel it right now through our bond.”
And through the bond, I could feel his surprise and then pride at my comment. I could also tell he was telling the truth about the meat. I picked up my knife and fork again and cut a large piece of meat and then stuck it in my mouth.
Just like my bond with Tyrrik, this bond with my father went both ways. Useful? Perhaps? I didn’t need help seeing—
Stop thinking while you’re ahead, Ryn, I reminded myself.
33
We finished our meal, and the emperor cleared his throat. I felt him gather up the energy of our bond, and I glanced inward, seeing the mossy power webbing still obscured my thread-like link to my Drae power. He wasn’t completely gone, however I could still feel his sick anticipation.
Something awful was about to happen.
Druman filed into the room, surrounding the walls two layers deep. Their unwashed, disgusting presence extended out into the hall, dozens of them waiting to act on the will of their master.
The energy of the female Drae around the table shifted, going from mild content to anxious and tense trepidation.
Draedyn leaned forward, dark eyes bright. “I find our bond increasingly fascinating, heir. I’ve found when you become excessively emotional, your energy, thoughts, and feelings permeate my mind. While I know you could control and stop me seeing and feeling your thoughts if I give you access to your Drae powers, I’m not sure I will ever want to give this up. I’ve discovered so much through you.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He licked his lips and pushed his chair back. “No, I don’t suspect you do. Come,” he said, standing. “Let’s go out on the balcony. Draeryn and Draelyz, you will join us.”
I whipped my head to look at my aunt. That wasn’t a good sign. She and the female Drae across from her paled, and Druman pulled their chairs out from the table.
Draelyz stood, resting her hands on the table, and my aunt rushed around the foot of the table to help the other Drae forward. Frozen with fear? Yeah, I’d been there, done that.
“Did you know,” Draedyn asked, linking his arm through mine.
What the hay? We were on linking arms terms now?
If the thought had reached him, he ignored it, saying, “The Drae women used to try to defy me all the time. Your mother was usually an instigator.”
I yanked my arm from his and said, “That doesn’t surprise me much.”
He smiled, fangs elongating past his lips. “No, I don’t suspect it does.”
Druman herded the other two Drae out onto the balcony and then stood shoulder to shoulder to cut them off from the rest of the room.
The orange-and-red rays of the dying sun glistened over the water. Smoke still rose from within Azule in the distance but much less than yesterday. The tang of ash coated the air. I stepped past my father, yearning to reach out to Tyrrik, regardless of the danger and stupidity of doing so.