Totally staring at my butt.
He smirked when he caught my gaze, and I turned up my nose, facing the front. Didn’t our argument two days prior bother him? I couldn’t think of anything else. What had he meant with his parting remark? Not knowing was driving me mad.
I panted as we climbed, but it wasn’t because I was out of shape. “I hate corsets,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I dreamed of aketons last night.” An aketon and my usual ankle-length skirt or trousers. I’d even take an aketon without pants at this point. “Dyter, why didn’t you pack another aketon?”
Dyter turned and said, “If you remember, we were in a bit of a hurry when we left Zivost. I’m sure we can find you other clothing in Gemond.”
I thought of the mountains we’d have to climb between now and then. “I’ll die before we get there.”
“Then take it off,” Dyter snapped without looking back.
A menacing growl rippled over my head before I’d fully processed Dyter’s response.
“She’s not taking anything off,” Tyrrik snarled.
I ignored the big lizard stalking behind me. I already knew his aketon was in a bunch. “What’s blocking your pipe, Dyter?”
He threw a scowl over his shoulder, taking a moment to let his disapproval settle first on me and then the Drae behind me. “You two have frayed my last nerve.”
My brief flash of good humor disappeared. “It’s Tyrrik’s fault. He’s sulking.”
“I’m not sulking,” the one-hundred-and-nine-year old said.
“Mmm-hmm, sure.”
Dyter exploded. “Enough!” He whirled on us, stomping back to wave a finger in my face. “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t speak at all.”
“That’s what we were doing before,” I huffed. “You said it made you cranky.” By this point, I was needling the old man, but I craved an outlet for my frustration, and he’d offered one.
“Not cranky . . . irritable.” He sighed, his anger draining away as he looked at me.
“So you’re not cranky, and Tyrrik’s not sulking,” I said, nodding as I doubled down on my own stupidity.
“Ryn?” Dyter offered me a weary half-smile.
“Yes?”
“I love you. But shut up.” He marched ahead to lead the way again.
28
I pushed aside a branch, smiling as I let it fling back. It probably wasn’t high enough to hit Tyrrik’s face, but I grinned at his grunt when the branch thwacked against him. A quick peek told me he still found my rear end far too interesting. I wonder how many branches I could catch him with between now and Gemond.
Which reminded me. “Why are we going to Gemond? The king lets his people eat each other.”
“Did you listen to nothing I told you about King Zakai?” the old man groaned.
I pushed aside another branch and then let it go. The thin tree limb flicked back, and I smirked as Tyrrik grunted again.
“Yeah, I listened,” I answered, jumping a small creek, my wispy skirt bouncing around my thighs. “But I didn’t believe you.”
“You don’t believe a man you’ve known most of your life?” Tyrrik asked, speaking for the first time in a while.
Dyter laughed derisively. “Rynnie didn’t believe plants came from seeds until we put a pot in her room and made her check it every day for three months.”
“I thought it was a scheme to give the people of Verald hope.”
“You didn’t know what a scheme was at five.”
I might not have had the words to express how I felt at five, but I did think seeds were a hustle. Most people in Verald couldn’t get them to grow and bear fruit, so it wasn’t really a stretch for my childhood mind.
“Wait,” Tyrrik said. “She didn’t believe plants came from seeds until five?”
I scowled at the grin in his voice.
“No one was more surprised than I to find out she was Phaetyn,” Dyter quipped.
The conversation was feeling like a man alliance, and Dyter was supposed to be firmly team Ryn. The next words passed from my lips without filtering. “I can’t believe Mum never told you, Dyter. She told you everything.”
The old man was silent, and I had time to wonder if I could’ve phrased my comment better. Definitely could have.
He turned back, his features darkening. “She loved you more than life itself, my girl. When you love someone that much, you don’t take risks that could lead to hurt. I was your mother’s best friend, and she was mine, truly. There were very few who were in the confidence of Ryhl, and I consider myself honored to have been one of them.”
I stared at the blurry ground in front of me, stepping in a puddle. The muddy water splashed up on my calves as I was still bare footed. I didn’t want to bawl again, so I focused on the only other thing in my head: I needed shoes.
It is normal to be sad, Khosana.
Even now, months later, I missed my mother terribly. For the most part, I seemed to get by without thinking of her, and then in moments like these, the sadness, the regret, hit me with the force of a brick wall. Shoes fled my mind as my emotions echoed through Tyrrik.
“Dyter,” I said. “Can you tell me about her? About how you met?”
Dyter wouldn’t normally hesitate to tell me, but I held my breath, remembering Tyrrik. Despite my easy relationship with the old man, he wasn’t one to spill his guts, and he was the king of secrets.
Sure enough, Dyter stiffened. He flung a quick look at the Drae then met my gaze, and his eyes steeled. No one was more surprised than I when he started talking.
Dyter trusted Tyrrik? But my memory niggled at the back of my mind that this wasn’t the first time Dyter had made this decision in front of me.
I shook my head and focused on what he was saying.
“My sister, Dyrell met her first,” Dyter spoke. “Your mother was searching the bins behind The Raven’s Hollow in Harvest Zone Eight.”
I grimaced. Amateur. Dumpsters were always picked clean. Not that I’d had occasion to pick through them like many others, but growing up in starving Verald, rubbish bin-dipping had been common among the poor in the Penny Wheel. Still, life had probably been a bit easier back then, or at least more food was available if my mother’s stories were true.
“My sister took one look at the baby swaddled on your mother’s back and invited her in for a meal, but your mother refused to go inside. Dyrell thought it odd but put it from her mind; even then, people were just scraping by, and Dyrell was busy. A week later, five of the emperor’s men came through the zone asking after a young woman and a child. Dyrell denied it, having forgotten all about your mum; there were too many going hungry to remember any one in particular. But, a few days later, Dyrell saw your mum again and put things together after that. Enough to realize your mother was in trouble.”
My mother had told me she’d run from my abusive father to start a new life. Talk about the understatement of the century.