Dyter glared at me from behind the prince. Whatever. Dyter could be mad. He hadn't been in prison with Irrik, Ty, and Tyr. The old man had no room to judge.
But the rolling of my stomach didn't quite agree with the rationale in my head because, despite everything, my mind was churning out on repeat that my stupid heart knew what my heart knew.
And after only a couple of steps, I withdrew my hand from Kamoi's.
16
As we approached the rose quartz house, the filtered light it refracted cast rainbows into the meadow. The building was not created exclusively of stone. The double doors were made of wood that had been polished until it shone like the stone, but the wood was pale gray.
We got closer, and the door was flung open, and a young Phaetyn girl of no more than eight ran out to meet us, screaming in Phaetyn language. The only word I understood was Kamoi's name. Judging by her wide smile and bounding enthusiasm, she was ecstatic to see her brother.
I slowed my steps and watched as the girl crashed into her brother, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist.
“Uso ua ou misea, Kamoi, fea na e iai.”
“Kamini, you must speak in the language of man. We have guests, and we would not want to exclude them.”
The girl dropped her arms, and her cheeks tinged pink all the way to the tips of her pointed ears. “You don't have to be a Drae about it, Kamoi.” She sniffed. “Next thing I know, you'll be acting like Father—”
Kamoi put his hand over his sister's mouth and shook his head. “Part of growing up is knowing what to say, when to say it, and how to say it, little Kami.”
Regardless of the rudeness of the little girl, I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. She’d been raised to believe what she was saying, and even three months ago, I might have agreed with her about the Drae.
The girl batted her brother's hand away then sniffed and offered me a tentative smile.
Wow, this girl could change emotions like the weather.
“Are you one of the lost Phaetyn?” she asked me.
“Kami, please stop talking,” Kamoi said with a shake of his head. “Just go tell our parents I'm home and I've brought a Phaetyn from Verald as well as Lord Irrik and Lord Dyter. Lord Dyter is King Caltevyn's ambassador.”
Kamoi rattled the information off quickly, but I noted his sister’s flinch when he said Lord Irrik. Obviously, the Drae was known here, and I felt a flash of irritation at the prince for not giving Tyrrik a clean slate by using his real name. Kamoi clearly meant this as an insult.
Kamini dropped a perfunctory curtsy and darted away.
This crawling sense of unease that skittered over my skin and burrowed deep into the pit of my stomach should not be so familiar after so short a time.
“Is your mother up for visitors, Kamoi?” Dyter asked. “Is she still the one making decisions here in Zivost?”
Kamoi chuckled after a pause, but the tension in the air was only reinforced by the forced laugh. “Of course. Queen Alaini makes all of our decisions in regard to our country and our people. Just like the king does in Verald.”
Without further small talk, Kamoi led us through the open double doors and into the foyer of the stone house.
Dyter and I exchanged a quick look.
I might've narrowly missed my calling as Soap Queen of Verald, but that didn't make me an idiot. I’d seen the same hungry looks on the young men in Verald as those on the younger Phaetyn rioting at the tree. Whatever was happening here, either the queen wasn’t making the choices, or she was making the wrong ones. Happy subjects didn’t have that look on their faces.
Trees didn’t decay when properly tended to.
Dyter was right. We’d walked into a civil war.
Kamoi led us through the rose quartz home, Dyter and me staggering after while holding up Tyrrik. I swiveled my head without shame to take in the sparkling walls. There was no decoration in the hallways, and I could understand why they’d left the area so sparse with the way the walls glowed as though we’d stepped into another realm. I did wonder if I could maybe chip some of the quartz off and add it to my stash, just one tiny piece. Would anyone even notice?
“We’ll put Lord Tyrrik in here for now. He’ll be more comfortable,” Kamoi said, entering a small chamber.
The room had two beds facing the outside wall and a small table between them. A pitcher and bowl sat atop the table, and there was still space for any personal things. The outside wall was a bank of opaque windows, letting in soft filtered light. The room was otherwise bare, but an adjacent door opposite the entrance made me think of the washroom in Tyrrik’s tower. What I wouldn’t give for a bath . . .
“He’ll be safe while we—”
“Uh-huh,” I said, hunching over as Dyter and I deposited Tyrrik on the closest bed. I straightened and fixed Kamoi with a hard stare. “How safe will he be, considering we were attacked and required two sets of guards to get here?”
Kamoi’s violet eyes narrowed, and he raised his voice and called out, “Malaleo.”
A guard appeared.
“You and two others are to guard Lord Tyrrik,” Kamoi said with a glance at the Drae. “He is a guest in this house. It’s your responsibility to ensure he does not meet with any harm, or the royal family will take it as a personal insult.”
He quirked a brow at me, and I rolled my hand in a gesture, indicating for him to continue. There was no way I was going to come back and find he’d been injured. I didn’t quite understand how people twisted words and made loopholes, but I knew words and orders could be easily manipulated and misunderstood by now.
Kamoi sighed and added, “If we return and find a single scratch on him, your lives are forfeit.”
The guard shifted uneasily, his gaze darting from Kamoi to me then back.
Threaten their families, I mouthed, once the guard’s attention was back on the prince.
Kamoi glared at me.
Like I care. I smiled back, putting my hand on my hip.
“And your families will also die,” he said. “Understood?”
The pale-faced guard nodded and exited the chamber.
I turned to see Dyter pulling off Tyrrik’s boots. I raced over to help. Grabbing a pillow, I lifted the Drae’s head to push it underneath.
“Will he be okay, Dyter?” I asked in a low voice. “Shouldn’t he be awake by now?”
“He came as near to death as is possible for a Drae,” the prince answered. “His healing will be slow, but he will heal.”
“Don’t sound so happy about it,” I muttered.
The Phaetyn shrugged, saying, “There will be time to care for the Drae afterward. I will see that everything you need is brought here, but my mother, the queen, awaits us.”
I stole one last look at Tyrrik’s relaxed face, my gut churning at the thought of leaving him vulnerable. My options were limited, and I hated that. Dyter jerked his head to the door, and I nodded, following Kamoi out.