“I said it was the right thing to do,” I snapped, defending myself.
“Aye, but knowing what is right and doing what is right are vastly different. You don’t know whether you want to go up against the emperor, and I can respect that even if I can’t understand it after what you’ve gone through. However,” he said, holding up his only hand to stop my interruption, “I told my king I’d do my best to form an alliance with the Phaetyn, and I mean to do just that. In the meantime, you have an opportunity to learn about your Phaetyn powers. I know this situation is uncomfortable, and if you didn’t hold a trump card, I wouldn’t suggest staying, but I feel we need to . . . for a little longer.” He dropped his hand and with his snarling smile said, “What do you think, ex-farm girl?”
What did I think? There was a deep calling inside me to be in the forest here. I was not beholden to these people, but my connection to Queen Luna, whether because I seemed to possess her power or because she’d helped to give me life, was undeniable. More than learning about my powers—or forming an alliance with these people—was the feeling that the trees had more to tell me, that they were desperate for my help.
And then there was the more tangible concern of Tyrrik.
“We can stay until Tyrrik is better and then go,” I said, keeping my other agenda to myself. “You’re right. I may never get another chance to learn about the Phaetyn and my powers.” I’d rather give up pancakes for the rest of my life than come back at the rate things were going.
“We’re agreed then,” Dyter said.
“Yes, yes.” I waved a hand in the air. “But what’s our trump card?”
“Your trump card, my girl. This old man hasn’t got any cards at all.”
I rolled my eyes. “What’s my trump card then?”
He stretched out on the second bed in the room. Closing his eyes, he said, “If you have ancestral powers, you can put the barrier up.”
“So?” I glanced between the two beds, wondering where I factored in the sleeping situation.
Dyter cracked an eye open and then closed it again, grinning at the ceiling. “So, I’m guessing if you can put it up . . . you can also take it down.”
18
Warm heat cocooned me, and I snuggled closer to the source. My Phaetyn mojo must've kicked in overnight because my muscles were relaxed and my mind clear. I had a dream about being chased by Druman shortly after falling asleep, which nearly made me physically sick, but after my heart settled again, the rest of the night I’d slept amazing. I felt kind of great, considering yesterday involved slashing my hand open and dripping blood into a Drae’s open wound. Tyrrik’s arm fell to my side, and I snuggled closer.
Wait a minute.
My drowsiness disappeared in a flash, and my eyes popped open. Drak.
Maybe my mind wasn't so clear.
I looked across at the other bed, but it was empty. Dyter had folded his blanket and fluffed the pillow before leaving. I’d gone to sleep on the floor; that was a definite. I’d taken Tyrrik’s blanket, folded it up for a pillow, and fallen asleep on the ground.
Not in bed with Tyrrik.
Holy potato-stuffed pancakes.
The Drae mumbled in his sleep, his mouth against the nape of my neck, and his arms circled my waist, pulling me against him. My heart thumped and then began a race as if to pound out of my chest. Clearly my conscious and subconscious mind were not on the same page.
I lay tense, and the queen’s words from yesterday echoed in my mind. Did I truly think the world wasn’t worth saving because of a few people?
I'd always believed the workings of the world and its people were black and white, yet black and white were merely far ends of a spectrum. Between them resided a bajillion shades of gray.
Everything was gray. Choice, people, beliefs.
My thoughts turned to the Drae behind me. Tyrrik was . . . I hated thinking about what Tyrrik was. Was my avoidance of exploring that a refusal to acknowledge the truth? That there may be grays involved in what he’d done. Was it fear? Of admitting his choice had been an impossible one and fear of how that admission would change my life? Was that why I didn’t want to help fight the emperor and why I’d gone to sleep on the floor last night? Was I too scared, too ruined, too broken to do anything but deny where my life was headed?
I pulled Tyrrik’s arm up and scooted to the edge of the bed, gently placing his arm back at his side. He mumbled again, his forehead creasing into a furrow that smoothed as soon as I tentatively reached out and touched it.
Yeah. This was next level stuff. The guy stopped frowning when I touched him. Don’t panic; it’s probably nothing. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Whatever this was would have to wait.
I went to the washroom and allowed myself a muffled squeal of delight when I saw the large tub filled with water. Nearby was a smaller basin of water, and by that sat a pile of unbleached folded material. I shook out the top piece to find a baggy forest-green tunic made of soft wool. The garment wasn't nearly as nice as the silvery threads the Phaetyn wore, but it was clean.
I stripped out of my torn and bloody clothing, a little disturbed I’d slept in all that essence of Tyrrik, and slipped into the tub.
Once dressed, I rifled through my drawstring bag back in the bedroom and found the water skin. It was completely flat, and when I opened the cork, not a drop of nectar remained.
I returned to the restroom and emptied part of the basin of crystal clear water into the flagon, and then I stuck my index finger into the fluid. My thoughts turned to Tyrrik again, to how I wanted him whole. I wanted him healed so I could pester him with questions about the Phaetyn, and why Queen Alani knew about the emperor’s experiments, and how the heck we could get out of here without escalating the tension. Mostly, I wanted Tyrrik healed so he wasn’t vulnerable. I wouldn’t be able to stay with him all the time, and I didn’t trust the Phaetyn when things here were so volatile. Tyrrik was always so decisive, and he knew more about the Phaetyn than Dyter and I combined.
With each thought regarding Tyrrik’s healing came a deeper understanding; while I might still question Tyrrik’s motives for many things, clearly I relied on him in some ways.
I returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed where the Drae still slept. My insides churned, despite his smooth expression and even breathing. He appeared almost peaceful right now. His face was unlined with the tension it normally carried. Gone was the haunted look in his eyes, the self-deprecating smile, and his occasional furrow of worry. His chest rose and fell with even breaths. The pallor of his skin had waned during the night. Was that because I’d slept next to him?