“Think of the ruby, Ryn,” Tyrrik said. “I know you really want the shiny gem. You just need to . . . poof. It’s as simple as that.”
A moment later, a chuffing sound came from the Drae now standing over me. I tilted my head back and stared at his onyx scales.
With a booming leap, Tyrrik dove off the drop. With powerful draws of his wings, he rose into the air, just above the tree line, and began to circle.
My stomach churned. What if I couldn’t do it? I pushed some tendrils of my silver hair back.
Stop procrastinating.
I glared at the huge Drae and mentally ventured through the streams of energy between us until I was at his Drae form. I reached to feel his power; it was dark and mysterious and endless. I allowed my energy to dip into his, surprised at what I felt. It wasn’t cold—which is how I often saw Tyrrik—rather, his power was warm and comforting, like the dark nights in Verald with the hot air rolling in from the southern deserts.
This was what I felt when he helped me shift.
I stayed here wrapped in his power for a time, trying to use the feel of his energy and the sight of his Drae form to shift, unsuccessfully. I thought of the countless times he’d helped me shift in the clearing. He’d always touched my shoulder blades.
“Why do you touch the ridge of my shoulder blade?” I asked, already pulling his energy toward me. He was letting me. I could feel his acquiescence, and there was an indulgent edge to it; like I had wobbly legs, and he was nudging me up a steep hill.
The wings are extremely sensitive. It is the easiest place to get a reaction.
Something clenched within me, and I remembered how it felt when he touched my wings yesterday. He’d been gentle, but every nerve ending had stood at attention with his hands on them. I drew his energy close, slowly, nervously, coaxing it to curve around my shoulder until it hovered over my shoulder blade. Then, deciding if this didn’t work I’d have a tantrum, I let the energy connect.
Shimmering light burst around me. I catapulted into my larger form, scales erupting in the fastest shift I’d had yet. My neck extended high, and even in my Drae body, my breath came hard and fast from the huge jolt of energy.
Well done.
I panted in a crouch. That was intense.
I imagine so . . . you used my energy.
For a fraction of a second, I felt his triumph, and then he closed me off from his emotions.
Next time, use your own power.
Embarrassing. I could’ve done that with my own?
Yes. He seemed to consider his next words and then continued. Though it might’ve taken longer to get the hang of it. You should be fine now that you’ve experienced it once.
I pushed onto all fours and flexed my talons. He was right. Now that I’d done it myself, I knew I could replicate the release of my Drae. Is it the same for all of us? How we shift?
No. Everyone sees energy in a different way. You are visual.
I dove off the drop and beat my wings hard to lift to his looping level. The sun had moved, cursed thing. I’d spent at least an hour figuring out how to shift. My stomach grumbled, reminding me it still wanted steak. In Drae form, it sounded like an earthquake.
Tyrrik flashed his fangs beside me in what must’ve been a Drae smile.
Shut up, I’m starving.
In response, he took us higher.
As I circled upward, I noticed patches of vibrant green in the distance. What’s that back there? Could I really see all the way to Verald?
Tyrrik glanced toward Verald. That’s where Phaetyn powers have healed the land. Some might be yours, but those patches of green are how Draedyn knows there are still Phaetyn.
I ground my teeth together.
Without saying anything, Tyrrik picked up the pace.
We skimmed over the treetops, and I let my mind wander, seeing that Tyrrik scanned the ground and sky around us. Confident he was alert to any Druman underwing, I indulged playing with the air currents as I ran over the events of the last couple days.
I was now Drae. And, somehow, I didn’t feel completely out of my depth. My reptilian gaze slid to Tyrrik, and I acknowledged this was because of him; he’d made this easier. He didn’t owe me anything beyond what guilt might force him into doing. Tyrrik chose to help me, and considering everything, he’d been nice about it too. He’d also helped me in Irdelron’s castle, though in a completely botched way. Is that why Tyrrik had helped me today? No way.
Somewhere along the way, a new dynamic had snuck up on us, or maybe I was just slow to recognize the evolution. At some point in the cave, things became different, and the new undercurrents from Tyrrik made me uneasy. Those emotions were what I’d felt with Tyr. I didn’t want to be feeling them again, especially not when I was undecided whether I even wanted a friendship with Tyrrik. How was it that after two days in his company, the friendship thing seemed a given? I hadn’t consciously decided to give it. What if I didn’t want to?
I needed to rein things back and put them in perspective again. I didn’t want to be lured into feeling one way or another; manipulation was unhealthy and wrong. If I was going to feel anything for anyone, it would be reasoned out, and it would be my choice. I owed that to myself and to Tyrrik and to whoever else I came across.
Nearly there. Maybe another hour or so.
His voice broke me from my reverie. There was an inquiring edge to his thought, and I wondered how many hours I’d been lost in my head. Judging by how far the sun had lowered in the sky and the streaks of red and violet reflecting off the clouds, several hours.
I inhaled and gave him a tight nod. Knowing it wasn’t going to get easier, I focused on my energy. Then, bit by bit, I drew the thread of my energy between us back into myself.
He flinched but gave no other reaction, but then, slowly, I felt him drawing his energy in too.
10
The craggy peaks of the Gemond Mountains jutted into the blue sky as we continued our flight to Zivost Forest. The highest points, capped in snow, extended to where the air was thin and unbreathable—even for Drae. The dark rock was interspersed with the sparsest of growth, most of which were gray and sickly cedars. Abandoned homesteads dotted the larger ravines with snaking trails winding between them. The houses were lean-tos, piles of rocks with dried foliage draped to limit exposure to the elements, and looked abandoned.
Without the telepathic connection with Tyrrik, the silence in my head was thunderous and somehow empty. My thoughts rattled, continually turning to him between thoughts of what would happen once we arrived in Zivost. Huffing through my snout, I reminded myself I didn’t trust him and turned my attention to the ground.