“You continually need saving,” he said flatly. Instead of coming to share the food, he went to the bed and perched on the edge. He threw me a dark scowl. “If you don’t start eating, I’m going to come over there.”
“That’s rich,” I laughed. “In one breath you tell me you continually have to save me, and in the next you threaten me.” I picked up the fork, speared a glistening sprout, and popped it in my mouth. I would miss the food when I left. Waving the silver utensil in the direction of Lord Broody-Drae, I said, “I wish you would make sense. Just once.”
I sliced into a piece of meat and dipped it in a creamy white concoction on the tray. I sniffed at the sauce, which had a pungent peppery smell, and took a tentative bite. The richness of the meat and the sauce married perfectly in my mouth. My entire world became the tray for a few minutes, but after several bites in silence, I looked up to see Irrik watching me. Still.
Creeper.
I poured the nectar and took a long drink but couldn’t help peeking at him over the rim of the mug.
He raised his eyebrows.
I set the cup down and studied him. “I can’t understand you at all. And believe me, I’ve tried. Nothing you do makes sense. You said you wanted me to learn a lesson in the dungeon, which I assumed would mean Jotun—”
My thoughts skidded to a halt, and I covered my mouth. Him suddenly collecting me from the dungeons. His break from routine. His slumped shoulders. My hunger disappeared, my stomach now filled with the unease of questions I wasn’t sure I wanted answers for. In fact, I was certain I didn’t want answers.
He hadn’t warmed the bath water, and I could only guess that meant . . .
“You’re not going to try to breed with me, right?” I asked, determined to know my fate. The idea of being intimate with the Drae was terrifying for more reasons than I wanted to consider.
Irrik’s features hardened. “Are you asking me this because I didn’t heat your bath water?”
“No.” Okay, maybe that was a leap.
He clenched his jaw. “The king can’t make me do that anymore, so no.”
I blew out a loud breath. “Thank the Moons for that.”
His eyes flashed to Drae slits before flashing back to human. “Just so we’re clear, I’ve never forced myself on anyone. The women, the mothers of the Druman, were all willing.” He clasped his hands in his lap and dropped his gaze to them.
I swallowed the rest of my questions, not sure if I believed him. The two women I’d seen him in company with had seemed happy for his attention, sure, but I’d also seen what his freaky breath could do to them. I knew what his kiss had done to me.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
“Can you read minds?” I asked, rolling my eyes.
He snorted. His most common response to my questions. Lovely.
“No, Ryn. Your expression is a clear window to your emotions. I don’t think I’d need to read your mind.”
Drak. I flinched at his words. I’d have to work on a blank expression, like the one he did so well. And the thought that he could actually read minds was a little terrifying. Stupid Drae powers. He ignored my response and continued talking.
“I would never use my Drae powers to be intimate with someone. Never. And there’s no way the king can twist the oath to that end again.”
Really? “Why not?”
“Because he can’t,” he growled.
Obviously, I’d touched a nerve. But, knowing the king couldn’t make him mate was a relief, for him and for me. I was glad the king didn’t have total power over him. Something else was bothering me though after Tyr’s disappearing act in the dungeon. I gathered my courage and looked Lord Irrik in the eye. “Is Tyr your son?”
Waves of emotions crossed his face—frustration, sadness, anger—before he slipped his features into the flat expression he wore most. “No. He is not.”
I’d learned more this evening than all the weeks of working outside with him.
He ran his hand over the soft comforter on the bed, and his mask slipped. He closed his eyes and took slow deep breaths. His pain and weariness hung in a cloud around him, drifting all the way to the other side of the room, to me. Maybe I wasn’t the cause of his current heartache. Maybe his anguish wasn’t my fault. But I was certainly adding to it. I’d seen enough over the weeks to know that while Irrik was bound to the king, the Drae was not aligned with the brutality of Verald’s monarch.
“I meant what I said. If I can heal you, if there is a way for me to help you, I will.” I scratched my wrist, the itching from before returning with pruritic fire.
Irrik shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”
His gaze dropped to my hands.
I stopped scratching and looked down at my wrist. My fair skin looked normal, but I ran my finger over the rough patch. “Do you know what’s causing this? Did I get some funky disease down in the dungeon? If I did, I would’ve thought my Phaetyn powers would heal it.” He said nothing, and I fixed him with a pointed look. “Do you know how to make it better?”
“I’m not certain what it means, but I can assure you it’s not a disease. You might find that the . . . nectar helps.” He sighed, a tired and melancholy sound. “But it might make it worse, too. I don’t have a better answer for you.”
“Why do you say it like that? If it’s not nectar, what’s it called?” It wasn’t like I was all privy to the Drae’s language.
Lord Irrik chuckled. “You can call it whatever you want, Ryn.”
Okay. I poured another mug of nectar and sipped at it. The sweetness brought a diffusion of tranquility with it. I dipped my finger in the clear liquid and rubbed it on the rough patch of skin on my wrist. The itching melted away. “Hey,” I said, smiling with the relief of my discomfort. “You were right.”
He stood. “If you’re done eating, we should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be another long day.”
“Why don’t you take the bed?” I asked, lying down on the long couch. “You look like you need it more than I do.”
He quirked a brow. “Do you mind if I have some supper?”
I blushed, stood, and hefted the tray with both hands. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Here you go.”
I carried the tray halfway across the room where he met me. Our hands brushed as we transferred possession of the heavy platter. He quickly adjusted it so he held it underneath by one hand. “You didn’t eat very much. Are you sure you don’t want anything else on the tray?” With the other hand, he grabbed the flagon of nectar and held it out to me. “You might want this close by, in case your skin disease comes back.”
“Hey, you said it wasn’t a disease,” I shot back. I accepted the flagon, grabbed a roll to nibble on, and then went back to the couch, feeling his gaze on me.
When he was done eating, Irrik extinguished the lights and opened the panels to the night. He drew near, and I watched him in the dark, my heart pounding. He pulled a blanket out of a drawer of the wardrobe and dropped it on my feet.