The gate cracked open, and two stocky golden-plated soldiers with rounded helmets lurched forward, stutter-stepping as they saw me. They halted well out of reach of my swinging tail. Clever men. I wouldn’t hesitate to use it; I hadn’t come all this way to have Dyter or Tyrrik killed by guards dressed in gold. How stupid. Gold was soft. Was this just to show their wealth? I ran my gaze over the gold soldiers. I bet their armor was worth a pretty penny. The two men would look great in my collection . . . but I’d have to feed them.
Dyter got to his feet and ran his hand over his head as he gulped several breaths. He looked a little green after the flight. I narrowed my Drae eyes, daring him to insult my aerial ability.
“Thank you, Ryn,” he said.
My tail twitched at the blatant lie.
He turned to the guards and announced us. “We seek an audience with King Zakai. Please inform him that Lord Tyrrik the . . . Free Drae, Dyter of Verald—ambassador to King Caltevyn, and Ryn are here.”
I practically gave myself Drae whiplash at that. I lowered my head to Dyter, a low growl rumbling in my chest. Shouldn’t I be Ryn the Coolest Drae, or Ryn the Phaetyn-Drae? Or maybe Ryn the Phaetyn-Drae, daughter of Ryhl—
Dyter eyed me nervously and blurted, “I mean to say, Ryn the most powerful Drae.”
Most powerful Drae. I smiled, showing every one of my fangs to Dyter who rolled his eyes. I could work with most powerful Drae.
The guards disappeared, and minutes later, the heavy gates inched opened with an ominous groan. The shiny soldiers bowed us through, and I picked up Tyrrik in my claw, walking forward awkwardly. I ducked through the high gate and straightened inside the cavernous mountain space. In the distance, I heard another Drae roar, and my heart raced, knowing who it would be. The gates closed behind me, and my Drae jaw dropped as I stared at the royal lands of Gemond.
Mistress Butt-moon.
I shook off the shock, and the air shimmered as I shifted back to my Phaetyn form.
I pushed my silver hair behind my ears, one leg on either side of Tyrrik’s body, and studied the guards. Their shock halted their advance. They really weren’t dumb.
I knelt by Tyrrik and rested my head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady. How long would Tyrrik need to rest before regaining his strength now that we would have the comfort and resources he would need—if the king felt like giving those to us? After seeing what I’d seen, I couldn’t be sure.
Satisfied Tyrrik wasn’t in immediate danger, I took in my surroundings. The castle walls were encrusted with gems at least seven or eight feet up from the floor. I had no idea how one would get rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds to stick to the stone, but there they were, ripe and ready for the picking . . . if someone was inclined to do so for the sake of her collection.
Dyter cleared his throat, and I realized I’d been staring and missed the welcoming party that now stood before us.
Three men, dressed in ill-fitting uniforms, nodded in unison. The one in front spoke.
“Welcome to Gemond. King Zakai is resting, but he’s asked that we take you to your rooms. He will join you for supper tonight.”
I resisted the urge to let my attention return to the precious gems and forced myself to look at the men.
These men were likely in their thirties or forties, if Gemond people aged normally, but their sunken cheeks and thin frames made them appear much older. Two were missing one of their arms, and their empty sleeves were tucked into their belts. The third one wore an eye patch, and the left side of his face had large chunks of flesh missing. The only indication of their true age was the smoothness of their skin around their eyes where the skin was visible.
I thought of the women outcasts in the mountains and how they’d resorted to cannibalism to stay alive. These men weren’t as emaciated, but they weren’t healthy by any stretch. My disgust for King Zakai multiplied as I wondered how a king could have unlimited wealth and still starve his people. And he was resting, taking a late afternoon nap and couldn’t be bothered to greet the ambassador of Verald. How could the king rest while such hardship was everywhere around him? Queen Alani had spent her life resting. Was this king the same? Yet another leader who was taking advantage of his people? My face firmed, and I tried to come up with a way to say what I thought in a way that wouldn’t get us murdered. However, Dyter beat me to it.
“My Lord Tyrrik has fallen ill and will require a dark room with ample access to water,” Dyter said. “If you were to have a suite where we could all reside, we would be most grateful. The Drae will need his . . . he will require significant attention, and if we don’t have to break up our traveling party—”
“We’ll take you to your rooms where you can wash, rest, and have a light luncheon. Supper is still several hours away.”
I slid my gaze to Dyter, but his attention was fixed on our escort. Something was bothering him, but I didn’t dare ask. Worrying about the problems of yet another race would have to wait until Tyrrik was cared for.
I cleared my throat and jerked my head at Tyrrik. “I’d sure appreciate your help, Lord Dyter.”
I had no idea what role I was meant to play here, and I didn’t want to do anything to screw up Dyter’s plans. Not yet.
When I met King Zakai, I might rip his head off, but for right now, I had more pressing concerns.
32
“What are you doing?” Dyter asked.
I jumped, and the dagger I held clattered to the stone floor of the huge bathroom.
“Nothing,” I said, clearing my throat.
Leaning down, I scooped the dagger up and passed it to Dyter who stood in the ornate archway.
He looked past me to the large emerald in the wall. The one that now had scratch marks around it from where I’d tried to pry it out. I wasn’t perfect, and I was the first to admit it.
“When did you wake up?” he asked, sheathing the dagger in the scabbard at his belt.
“Not long ago.” Long enough for me to use the restroom and get distracted by that emerald. He wasn’t going to make it easy for me to get that blade back either. I was going to need to find another tool.
“How long did we sleep?” I asked. Judging by the stiffness I’d felt upon awaking, our nap had been more than a few hours.
I followed Dyter back into the large bedroom, and the sparkling walls captured my attention before I forced it back to the old man. This place was driving me crazy, although I could see why they shoved gems into the dark gray walls. The refracted jewel-toned light in here was deep and rich. If I had a lair, I would want it to be like this.
“A guard came to the door before,” Dyter said. “We slept nearly eighteen hours.”
I whistled low, but I wasn’t truly surprised. We hadn’t really rested since setting out from Verald, and even then, there had been the overhanging feeling of danger. Dyter had placed his packs in front of the sole door into our echoing, shared chamber, and after tending to Tyrrik—shoving as much food as possible into the slurring man—we’d slipped into a deep slumber.
“Is the king rested enough to see us now?” I asked, sitting on the narrow bed beside Tyrrik. His beard was filling in, and dirt smudged his cheek. I looked down at my tattered dress. I needed a bath and some clean clothes.
Tyrrik jolted at the movement and then blinked up at me.