My breaths came in rapid, shallow gulps, and I crawled over to the female Drae, my kin. My real kin.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again. I wanted Tyrrik here.
I wanted someone to make this better.
I didn’t want to have my aunt’s blood on my . . . I swallowed, stunned with the craziness of the idea that flitted through my mind. I looked inward, covering my thoughts with my Phaetyn veil and double-checking my Drae-thread.
Aunt Ryn’s power was completely unsullied by Draedyn’s slick green energy. He’d pulled his power back at some point, leaving me a perfect opportunity. I stretched the mossy web over my aunt slowly, first covering the vibrant turquoise still around her heart and then pulling the power of invisibility over her entire body. I hunched over and whispered, “Please work.”
I’d healed Tyrrik. Ryn was my aunt, so I could totally do this. Couldn’t I? I pushed my healing-mojo into her. I imagined the edges of her skin knitting together, the Phaetyn poison burning away like Drae fire, her blood multiplying, replacing what she’d lost, and her heart pumping her power back through her. I watched the mossy green, turquoise, and lapis lazuli dance and tangle and play like old friends.
When I felt her stir beneath my hand, I opened my eyes wide and shook my head as I pressed one hand to her mouth and the other to my own, indicating we couldn’t talk. I pulled my Phaetyn net over her energy and whispered in her ear, “Don’t move.”
I pulled her body toward the ledge, doing my best to pretend to be sobbing while I huffed for air. Turning her so her feet dangled over the edge, I knelt down and focused on the bubble in my mind, whispering to her again. “I’m going to push you off the edge. I’ve got your body invisible right now, so as soon as you fall, shift and fly to Azule. Find Tyrrik.”
Her eyes widened, and she mouthed, “I can’t.”
“You have to or you’ll die. Give Tyrrik information. He knows.”
She swallowed, pain-filled eyes set on my face, a flicker of regret in their midst.
“I’ll hold the veil as long as I can,” I breathed into her bloodied, torn ear. “Please live.”
And then I shoved my aunt off the ledge of Draedyn’s palace.
34
I stumbled back into the dining room, my hands bloodied and mind still reeling with the acute memories of my aunt’s shredded body. The Druman lined the interior walls of the dining room they waited in to ensure the job was done.
“I pushed her body off the side, like Draedyn did. Is that good enough?” Unless they sent someone to check if my aunt’s body had landed below, my subterfuge would work. I glared at the mules, and when no one answered, I wondered if they were mute like in Irdelron’s castle. “Do you animals speak?”
“Done yet?” one asked, his voice rough.
I don’t know why I found it creepier that Draedyn left his Druman with their tongues, but somehow I did.
I narrowed my eyes, disturbed by how normal he looked. They all wore tunics like mine only bigger, but most of the bastards were filthy and grimy, their long hair matted with unkempt beards and broken nails. But the one who spoke had his hair pulled back, and his clean-shaven face set him apart from the others. That and his apparent language skills. “Yes,” I replied. “All done.”
“Wait,” he said and then ducked out of the door.
Was he kidding? Wait for what?
I stepped toward the doorway, and two of them closed ranks, their wide smirks only slightly less disturbing than the sadistic gleam in their eyes. Nice to see them taking after my father . . . Ew. Our father. That thought and their hulking bodies stopped me in my tracks.
My lip curled, and as I scanned the Druman, I realized I was no longer afraid of them. I wasn’t intimidated by their strength, speed, and violent tendencies. Somewhere along the line, I’d stopped reacting as a human.
I studied the sneering mule, his cruel grin matching his brother’s next to him. I glanced around the room, seeing the same expression on nearly all of the other Druman. How easy it would be to end their sadistic existence, especially with the violent energy coursing through me, begging for any outlet—to run, fight, to lash out. I could destroy them, but really I wanted to hurt the person who’d caused my aunt’s anguish. Only, I couldn’t. Not yet.
So lashing out here wouldn’t help me right now.
I sneered back at the Druman and had the satisfaction of witnessing a quiver of uncertainty momentarily unsettle his smirking fa?ade. If the emperor wasn’t his father, the Druman wouldn’t stand a chance, and we both knew it.
Druman got off on violence at the best of times, but my father’s minions could be a real danger to me if they became vindictive like Jotun, jealous of Draedyn’s attention on me. While Irdelron had raised Tyrrik’s Druman to be violent, Jotun’s jealousy drove him to be excessively cruel. Though my half-bros couldn’t kill me, if they managed to pin or tie me down, I could be tortured for a long time, possibly eternity, if properly restrained.
My angst and frustration morphed to simmering anger as the Druman continued to loom around the outskirts of the room in silence, smirking, leering—grunting like animals, filthy and vile.
Instigating a fight wouldn’t help me right now, so clenching my fists, I stepped to go around the two blocking the door. After the day I’d had, if I couldn’t obliterate my father, I needed the privacy of my chamber. Or even just a plain ol’ empty corner would do.
The two Druman shifted, continuing to bar my way.
“Not a great idea,” I said, clenching my teeth. “If you don’t move, I’ll have to kill you.” If I hadn’t been itching to sink my talons into them, the extension of my father, I may have tried harder to restrain myself. I wanted to fight, to do anything I could to hurt him, and the Druman had fought for him and would again at his whim. Destroying a few now would be less to kill later. I leaned forward and whispered, “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or do you move as slow as you speak?”
Instigator? Yeah, just like my mum. Before my Drae transformation, I couldn’t fathom Jotun’s supernatural speed. Now, craving vengeance, my mind seemed to process their movements as if in slow motion. One raised his arm, lifting the end of his spear, and the other swung wide with his fist closed as I instinctively knew their trajectories. Aiming for my crotch and my face! Dirty move.
I wouldn’t have felt bad killing them before, but the talons were out now.
I crouched and stepped left, evading the strike, and grabbed the Druman’s spear. I yanked on the staff, and when he held fast, I jerked upward, snapping off a large piece. Spinning back toward the first mule, I plucked his dagger from his waist and sliced through the meaty part of my forearm. I turned the blade and sliced again and then dipped the jagged piece of wood into my blood before shoving it into the stomach of the Druman still holding the other end of the spear.
Kicking the now seizing mule to the side, I faced the rest of my foes with a grim smile. I had no idea how my instincts had improved, but I knew they had. Not only could I do this, I would.
Several of the other Druman drew weapons, and others tensed, but I had no time to analyze their hesitation.
To my left, the one who’d thrown the first punch reached for me, and I slid closer, taking advantage of the proximity to slit his throat.
He screamed, a gutteral bellow, and doubled over before slumping to the ground. Bent to retrieve the shortened spear, I dragged it over the closing wound and buried it in another Druman’s solar plexus.
My rage flared, and I ducked under a heavy swing and thrust the knife into the Druman’s armpit.