You’re not happy, mate, Tyrrik stated, turning to study me.
I glanced at him. What? Of course I am. I’m with you.
He shook his head. I can feel it here. He pressed his hand to my chest, making my heart pound. You weren’t raised a Drae. You were raised human. Your friends are human and Phaetyn. I know how much you miss them.
Yeah, I’m not sure seeing them twice a year is cutting it. I sighed heavily then hesitated before continuing. Do you think we made a mistake, cutting ourselves off from the world? I miss my friends, but . . . More and more, I feel isolating ourselves isn’t right, even if it was all we wanted at the time. I paused, taking a deep breath to gather my thoughts, determined to make Tyrrik see my way.
He nodded. I agree.
We want our children to experience cultural divers— I blinked at him. You . . . agree?
Tyrrik snorted at my shock. You needed to come to this decision on your own. I’ve had similar doubts; Drae are guardians of the realm, after all. We needed time to recoup—and we’ve had it—and nearly finish a really big cave. Plus, I’m happiest when you’re happy. He cupped my face and pressed his lips to mine in a brief kiss. After pulling away, he added, You need the realm, not just this desert, Khosana.
He stood and brushed off his butt.
My heart swelled with love, and I admired his backside. And you. I’ll always love you most.
That’s a given.
He looked at me gravely, and I laughed at his serious expression. You’re pretty al’right. For a broody-Drae.
Just trying to stand out from the rest. He shook his hips again and cracked a rare smile.
Could we really do it? Reveal ourselves to the world after hiding for a year? I couldn’t really change my mind if we did this; dying was pretty much a once in a lifetime thing.
“If you decide the answer is still yes, we should leave for the Zivost forest tonight,” Tyrrik said, watching me closely.
I straightened, my eyes narrowing. “Tonight? Wait . . . How long have you been waiting for me to come to this decision?”
He turned and stepped away. Got digging to do.
“How long?” I called after him, ignoring the glances of the other Drae milling below.
How long is a piece of string?
Tyrrik’s amusement radiated through our bond, and I rolled my eyes, making sure he could feel me doing so. I was mated to the funniest Drae in the entire realm.
One who made his choice about stepping out from the shadows and taking risks back in Verald. Had he ever looked back since then?
The truth resonated through me. Life wasn’t about looking back.
Life was about looking and moving forward.
40
Hey, I want to land here. Just for a minute, I said, flying beside Tyrrik. He suffered this—I knew—he really wanted to be in front, protecting me from the list of enemies we still had in the night sky. Clouds.
You’re sure? he asked. The night is still young.
I am. My Phaetyn veil made us invisible to human eyes, so I wasn’t afraid of terrifying anyone by accident.
With my Drae vision, I scanned the kingdom far below, clear to me despite being swathed in darkness. Verald. In what felt like another lifetime, it had been my home. From my vantage point, the alterations in the kingdom were plain. The castle still sat in the center—Calvyten’s abode. The ring of quota fields in the valley below was lush and green. I inhaled the abundance of growth, and an approving rumble sounded in my chest. The market circuit road was still there, but the three rings beyond had changed drastically over the last year.
Even with my keen Drae eyes, I could spot no difference between the Money Coil, the Inbetween, and the Penny Wheel, no noticeable sign that one house was significantly wealthier than another; all three areas appeared to be prospering now.
I had to give that King Cal his due. I liked what he’d done with the place. But the most sentimental things were the fields of lapis-blue flowers. My chest puffed with pride as the tyrs waved with the breeze, a rich sea of blue. That was all me.
Come with me?
Of course, Tyrrik replied.
We circled down toward a large field of my flowers, and I shifted mid-air and landed on my feet. Totally had that badass trick down-pat.
Tyrrik did the same, landing at my side.
We crossed the field and into the Money Circuit, approaching the square.
“Recognize this?” I asked with a soft smile.
“Where we first met,” he said, sliding his hand into mine.
I’d taken us just outside the courtyard where I had so many memories. The best of them included my mate. And my mother. Tyrrik turned toward me and closed the gap between us.
“Why didn’t I just tell you we were mates back then?” he mused, studying my face.
The dark cocooned us, and I rose on my tiptoes, bringing my lips near his, intentionally teasing him.
“Why didn’t you tell me we should stop hiding from the world two months ago?” I replied.
Tyrrik pulled back and grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the dark. “Feisty. But I’m not telling you how long I waited.”
I’d get it out of him eventually.
His grin dropped. “Humans are coming.”
Probably not the time for a Heeeey, we’re baaack moment. Following his lead, we blurred to the buildings bordering the courtyard and melded into the shadows in a crouch, watching as a woman and a young girl entered the clearing. I snorted as I pressed my back to the brick wall of the alley and reminded him, Phaetyn veil.
Two females crossed to the middle of the courtyard, to the fountain. One appeared to be in her twenties and the other no more than five or six. As I turned to pulled Tyrrik down the alley, my breath caught at the gleaming metal piece reflecting the light of the twin moons. My welded flower.
Tyrrik looked at me, and I sent him my memories of the flower. Of how my mother had lifted me to touch it each day.
I didn’t think it survived when Irdelron ordered you to burn Zone Seven. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
The woman spoke, and I blinked back the mist in my eyes to listen.
“Do you see that cluster there?” she said to the young girl sitting beside her on the edge of the fountain. “Those seven stars to the side of the moons?” The woman held the girl’s hand and lifted her arm to trace the constellation.
I didn’t bother looking up. Gazing at the stars and moons from the ground was kind of overrated after flying amongst them. Instead, I watched the young girl and her mother, thinking of the numerous times I’d sat on the edge of this very fountain with my own mum.
“Caltevyn named that cluster Ryn’s flame,” the mother said. “Because of her and Tyrrik’s sacrifice, we are free.”
Extra points to Cal for not calling me Tyrryn. Glad to see that one hadn’t followed me to the fake grave.
“The one on the top looks blue,” the little girl said, swinging her feet off the edge of the fountain as she pointed. The child stared up at the night sky with wide-eyed intensity. Her auburn curls had escaped her braid, and the wisps framed her face, catching the moonlight.
“Yes. That’s why our king chose it. Blue was the color of her fire.”
The young girl narrowed her eyes. Clambering up, she stretched, just managing to touch the stem of the welded flower inlaid in the middle of the stone pillar. “I thought Lord Dyter said Ryn didn’t breathe fire. And why didn’t Tyrrik get a bunch of stars?”
I’d like to know that too, my mate thought gruffly, making me snicker.
“I’m sure he helped,” the mother muttered, “He kept her safe from Irdelron, so he wasn’t all bad. But he caused a lot of harm around here . . . for a very long time.” She took a deep breath and kissed the young girl’s head. “Come now, it’s time for bed.”
“That’s dumb,” the young girl huffed and slid off the fountain edge. “Ryn made tyrs. And that’s the start of Tyrrik’s name. She must’ve loved him a lot to make flowers for him. I think he was good.”