“You’ve been making it for me this whole time?” I waited for his nod. “How do you do it?”
A teasing gleam entered his eyes as he waved a finger in the air. “I will it, knowing it will help you heal and replenish your energy. It’s just a matter of wanting that.”
“For another Drae,” I ventured slowly.
He paused before giving a quick jerk of his head.
“So we’re dependent on each other for nectar?” I asked. My thoughts, however, weren’t on how I could never make nectar for myself. All I could think was Tyrrik wouldn’t have had any since his enslavement to Irdelron. I also wasn’t sure I wanted to make it for him. It seemed . . . personal. Too personal.
A slow smile spread across the Drae’s face, his dark eyes lighting. “We’re interdependent.”
He let go of my hand and knelt at the edge of the pool. He dipped the cup into the water, took a sip, and then handed it to me. “More?” It’s an honor to serve you nectar.
My eyes widened at the errant thought, and I hurried to school my features, certain I hadn’t been meant to hear it. I took the goblet, and blinked at the deep sincerity I felt from him as our skin touched. I gulped the nectar to cover the moment, and the sweet drink soothed my throat and nerves, then my aching muscles.
I drank every last drop, even licking the rim.
With a totally straight face, Tyrrik said, “I guess this means you like my nectar.”
I blanched. “You did not just say that.”
Tyrrik cracked a joke? Was the world ending? I thought back to my fake dungeon buddy, Ty, and his funny quips when we were in the dungeon. I supposed Ty was Tyrrik, so . . . It took a few moments for my head to wrap around my altered perspective of the Drae—all the funny quips really came from Tyrrik. If I hadn’t known Ty, fake as he’d been, I would’ve never known Tyrrik had a sense of humor.
He stepped forward until he was in my personal space and wrapped his hands over the jeweled chalice in my grip. “Oh, come on,” he said. “I could’ve said much worse than that.”
My heart pounded, running a race I would never win. “Here,” I said, thrusting the cup into his hands. “I’m good now.”
I fled into the depths of the cave, Tyrrik’s throaty chuckle chasing me. If I were to turn around, I’d see him, but some part of me, a rather large part, was terrified of meeting his eyes and standing too close. Why did I feel so unsure? Was it a Drae power thing? I’d never been unsure around him. At the start, I was so scared I could’ve peed my skirt, but unsure? Never. His place in relation to mine had always been clear and easy to navigate.
I wandered through several caverns, searching for a secure place for my treasure. Plus, I wanted a comfortable place to sleep. I meandered for a while, not in any hurry to get back, looking for somewhere safe. Every room I entered felt off, and eventually, my Drae instincts led me back to the cavern with the pool in it.
Tyrrik was lying in one of the indentations in the wall. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern.
Disappointment and relief pulsed through me, but I told myself it was probably for the best—though what I meant by that I didn’t want to dissect. I paced around the cavern, letting my thoughts unravel the last few days. It wasn’t Tyrrik’s fault my emotions were all over the place or that I was irritable. For being so bodily tired, sleep was the last thing on my mind.
“You still don’t trust me,” he whispered across the darkness.
“Hmm, what?” I responded, deflecting. There were three more indentations in the wall, all three near Tyrrik, which made me all kinds of nervous, but to not go over there would prove his point. I mentally kicked myself, wishing there was a way to block my emotions so he couldn’t read me.
“There is,” he said after a pause. “I’ll teach you tomorrow if you’d like.”
“Will I be able to do it?” I asked, my shoulders sagging. “Or is it going to be like shifting? Because that would kinda defeat the purpose, right? If you had to help me block you.” My weak chuckle trailed off almost instantly. It hadn’t been my best joke.
He shifted, rolling to his side to face me. “What would it take for you to trust me again?”
I grimaced. That question didn’t leave much avoidance wriggle room. “For real?”
Lying in a dug out hole was more appealing than facing Tyrrik, so I crossed the room, feeling his gaze on me. Creeper. I didn’t throw the insult with the same vehemence I had weeks ago. I guess the nectar and his help had softened me. That discovery unnerved me to no small degree. I climbed into the space farthest from him, a whole arm span. At least I could look at the ceiling of my cubby and know his eyes weren’t on me.
“Will you please tell me?” he asked.
I closed my eyes and thought of Tyrrik and our interactions to date. There were many of them if I included the conversations with Ty and Tyr—which I guessed I had to as much as I didn’t want to. Tyrrik must have felt so alone for so long with his only consistent company the twisted Irdelron or a few dozen Druman children Tyrrik had been forced to spawn. The blood oath had caused him excruciating pain, both physical and emotional, for one hundred years, and he’d no hope of escape. Until he found me. If I were in his situation, I might have been a little desperate to be free too. No matter the cost to others.
“The cost to others was all I thought about,” he corrected, his voice aching with a depth of pain that made my heart hurt.
Relieved, but distrusting, I pressed him. “Why did you lie? The entire time. You lied, played with my emotions, and now, somehow, I feel guilty because I don’t trust you and you want me to. But how can I? How do I know you’re not just playing”—with my heart—“some game again? Or that you have an ulterior motive like last time?”
He sucked in a breath. “You think it was all a lie? You believe that?”
I remembered Tyr’s gentle caress . . . the sweetness of his kiss. I thought of the tears he’d shed while wiping away my blood after Jotun beat me. I recalled the jokes and hope Ty gave me, his companionship. However, through Ty, Tyrrik had betrayed my plans, our plans, for the rebels to free us, the plans he’d helped me make, to Irdelron. Tyrrik had killed Arnik and all of those rebels. The Drae had put so many people in danger . . . even me, so he could break his blood oath.
“So we could be free,” he said. “All of us. Is what I did really any different than what Caltevyn or Dyter did?”
“You hurt me,” I said with difficulty. “A lot.” So much I wondered if I would ever be able to trust anyone again.
I’d always thought I’d be able to tell if someone was lying to my face. I’d seen other people in love before, matches where one partner lied or cheated, and wondered how someone could be blind to their partner’s duplicity. I never thought I’d be one of those blind fools. I never thought I’d love someone with those qualities.