“They’ve been waiting for you in the castle.”
I didn’t shriek. I’d smelled him coming. Why did he smell so good? Like leather, pine needles, and smoke. I gritted my teeth. “I’m not going into the castle.” Never again. I’d made a vow, and I would keep it, even if it killed me. “You, of all people, should know. If you want me involved in the talk, you’ll need to bring it out here.”
Lord Tyrrik snorted. Always dressed from head to toe in tight-fitting, liquid black, the Drae looked rumpled this morning. Being a creature of the night, I doubted he appreciated the early start, and it showed in his dark disheveled hair and the slow blink of his eyes. “Would you like me to ask the king to come outside to talk to you?”
I arched a brow. “That’s what I said.”
His lips curved into a smile as he dipped his head. “As you wish, Khosana. And . . . happy birthday.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved him away. He’d remembered my birthday? Not that forgetting was easy when said birthday ended with me growing wings and alerting the emperor to my existence. What did it mean that he’d remembered? I shook my head. It meant I should return to sending out mojo into the ground. I took my own stellar advice, humming in a deep voice to see if that helped clear my mind of his presence.
“Ryn,” Dyter said tightly a few minutes later. He strode out of the castle gates toward me, the king trailing in his wake, with Tyrrik and the Phaetyn Prince not far behind.
Dyter used that tone of voice with me whenever I burned the stew, and I knew he deplored my poor manners to the new sovereign of the kingdom. But Dyter had only a fleeting glance of the horror my life had been inside the castle, so I didn’t hold his irrational feelings against him. Beaming up at him, I said, “Good morning!”
The irritation on his face softened, but he came and whispered to me, “What you did was disrespectful.”
What Cal’s father and his crony-Druman, Jotun, did to me was way more disrespectful. I believed Irdelron’s son, Caltevyn, would be just what this kingdom needed. Regardless, I wasn’t about to re-enter the place that still haunted my nightmares. The palace was the setting for some of the worst experiences of my life; I’d meant it when I said I’d never go back inside.
“My lady,” the prince greeted me, bowing low. As he straightened, his eyes widened.
“Hey, Kamoi.” I smiled at him, dusting off my skirt as I stood.
He stared at the ground around me, his mouth agape.
I glanced downward. Nothing had changed to my eyes, but I could feel that the ground was a lot happier than before, almost like I’d felt after eating Mum’s lavender honey-cakes. Could he feel it too? Or what did he see?
Caltevyn, the king, reached for my hand, and I jerked it back. Dyter gasped and the others silenced, but Caltevyn merely surveyed me for a few seconds before dropping his hand and saying, “I understand you would prefer to conduct the discussion outdoors. I should’ve thought of it myself, dear Ryn. I’m sorry.”
“Right,” I said, uncomfortable with his courtesy. I made some semblance of a curtsey to make up for snatching my hand away and scanned the others. “So?”
The king smiled. “So, I’m told all of you must make a journey to Zivost. Once the emperor knows my father is dead, and there is a stray Phaetyn about, his curiosity will be piqued.”
“It’ll be more than piqued when he feels her existence tonight,” Tyrrik said darkly.
My mouth dried. “Why? He can feel your existence, and he isn’t chasing you down.”
He cast me a look. “You are a female Drae.”
I grimaced at what he left unspoken. “Cool. Great . . . Awesome. That’s . . . that’s awesome.”
My legs folded as I returned to my spot on the ground.
“You are also Drae?” the prince said, aghast. “How is that possible?”
Tyrrik opened his mouth but darted a look at me and pressed his lips together, not answering.
The prince’s face firmed. “That is . . . unprecedented, but we must leave immediately. She’ll be safest with my people.”
The king turned to Dyter. “You must go with them, my friend, as my voice.”
Dyter bowed low. “I know it is best, but I don’t like leaving you now. Be careful, Caltevyn. You’re still vulnerable to attack.”
Caltevyn smiled, but his kind blue eyes hardened. “I have Lord Tyrrik’s Druman. I am not without protection, and through them, Tyrrik will be able to tell if any are slaughtered. The Zivost Forest is only five days on horseback from here”—his gaze slid to the Drae—“less as the Drae flies, I imagine.”
The king turned to the Phaetyn prince. “Kamoi, the time is soon coming when our kingdoms must unite. I believe it will be the only way to defeat the great evil.”
“The emperor?” The Phaetyn pursed his lips.
“It is our plan to unite the three kingdoms and the Phaetyn against him. To rid Draeconia of his vile presence once and for all. We have a Drae on our side, and,” he continued, dipping his head at me, “I hope we soon have two. Your people are equally powerful in their own right. I hope you will discuss this with your liege and your people.”
The Phaetyn prince crossed his arms and shifted his weight from foot to foot. He caught me watching and assembled his features, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I will take your proposal to my mother, King Caltevyn.”
“It is all I can ask,” the king replied. He clapped Dyter on the shoulder. “Lord Dyter is my chief advisor and truly my right-hand man. He will act in my stead and answer any questions you may have.”
The prince’s eyes shifted to Dyter, then to me again, then finally to Lord Tyrrik where they rested, but the Phaetyn did not speak again.
4
Dyter stepped forward on the grassy knoll, bowing to the king again. “We will take our leave, your majesty. I’ve horses and provisions readied for an immediate departure.”
“What about my provisions though?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. “You can’t have mine ready because you didn’t know if I’d come or not.”
With a sardonic laugh, Dyter jerked his thumb at Kamoi, and they went back through the castle gates. Tyrrik lingered just far enough away to give the appearance of privacy. The king remained, and I shifted, searching for a topic. Before I could come up with something, he spoke.
“I don’t blame you, you know?” he said with a kind smile. “For not wanting to enter the castle.”
I shrugged, feeling an obligation to explain. “It’s not you. I just . . .”
The sandy-haired king reached out to rest a hand on my shoulder but caught himself and withdrew the caring gesture. He tipped his head down to meet my eyes. “I know, Ryn. My father was awful; believe me, I know. You don’t need to explain.”
I reckon he probably did know. My disposition toward the king softened. “So . . . how’s it going?”
He chuckled. “Fairly well, all things considered.”