The sunlight woke me, and I stretched with a luxurious slowness as I took inventory. I was whole, my soreness gone thanks to my Phaetyn blood, and I was ravenously hungry. I sat up and looked down at the table for the silver tray with food. But it was on the other side of the room, by the couch.

The couch where I’d fallen asleep . . . and was no longer lying.

I gasped, sure I must still be in a nightmare because there was no way I’d willingly be in Lord Irrik’s bed. But I was. Fully dressed, thank the stars, but in his bed nonetheless.

The Drae was gone, and the panels were wide open, exposing a large expanse of sky from a short balcony. I strained my ears to listen, but couldn’t hear him in the washroom. My curiosity swelled, and I jumped from the bed and crossed to the terrace.

I could see all of Verald, the main roads snaking through the pale dust of the Harvest Zones. There were small patches of green here and there, dozens of them throughout the kingdom. As I stared, I thought of my mother and her green thumb, and I wondered if those were the places she visited to help. Had I moved dirt at each of these places? Had I sprinkled Mum’s special water mix over them? A mix I was fairly certain contained my bodily fluids?

A dark bird pulled into the air from one of the zones, but as the bird neared, it grew, and I realized Lord Irrik was on his way back to his tower. The Drae screamed and beat his wings, and I stood staring in awe. As much as I hated him, I had to grudgingly admit he was beautiful.

He flew closer until he was just beyond the ledge of the parapet, hovering. His breath flowed over me, and I reached out to touch him, caught in some kind of thrall. My fingertips grazed his armored cheek before he pulled away.

The massive Drae dove to my right into the room. The air shifted and the scent of leather, steel, and smoke blew by me. His powerful wings wrapped around his body. The air around his Drae form shimmered. He tucked, rolled, and stood in a fluid motion that spoke volumes of how many times he’d done it.

“You need to eat, Phaetyn.” He turned and indicated I follow him with a wave of his hand.

He stood to one side, and as I passed, I risked a glance to assess his mood. His eyes were hooded and dark, his face an impassive mask. A smirk pulled on one side of his lips. “Did you know you sleepwalk? You’re lucky it’s comfortable to sleep on the ground in my dragon form.”

I closed my eyes and grimaced. I’d sleepwalked to his bed? Mortifying. At least he’d left and slept on the floor, so he said.

“Did you know you shape-shift?” I asked with a quirk of my lips. “But don’t worry, you’re black, inside and out.”

I edged past him to the couch, where I ate the rest of a loaf of bread and a large wedge of cheese for breakfast. And grapes. An entire bunch. And a small bowl of figs.

Irrik disappeared into the washroom then reappeared as I finished my meal.

Wiping my sticky fingers and smiling, I stood and asked as sweetly as I could, “Are you ready for today, Lord Irrik?”

His only response was a narrowing of his eyes that sent my heart racing now that I’d seen his true form up close. His eyes shifted, and his advance became predatory. I scanned the room, but Irrik was positioned between me and the doorway leading to the stairs. The only escape open to me was off the balcony. So not going to happen. Why was he stalking me? I’d pissed him off plenty in the last day. This was nothing in comparison.

He ran toward me, but I was distracted by a pounding on the door. Before I could move, he’d hooked an arm around my waist, and in a heartbeat, Lord Irrik pulled me off the terrace and into the air. I tried to scream as we plunged to the ground, but the fear was trapped in my chest, and I couldn’t voice it against the rushing wind. Then Lord Irrik was gone and a black dragon held me wrapped in his powerful claws. My mind caught up enough a few seconds later to tell me nothing about being clutched in the digits of a beast was normal.

Don’t be afraid, the Drae said in my mind. We’re landing now.

I wasn’t afraid. Irrik was bound by oath to keep me safe, Drae and human Irrik. The fear that had been trapped in my chest morphed to shock and then . . . joy. Because there was something about the freedom of flight that made my heart light. I wasn’t afraid because all I could feel was elation.

We dipped toward the ground, and I closed my eyes, wishing we could stay airborne. But there was no way I was asking, so I bit my lips closed and enjoyed the last moments of flight into the fields.

I opened my eyes. “Why are we here?” This was where I’d worked yesterday.

My jaw dropped.

The uprooted plants were taller than I was, but most shocking were the potatoes attached to them. Piles of huge potatoes. The size of pumpkins.

The Drae opened his mouth and let out a low rumbling sound. He reared his head back, stretching toward the sky, and bellowed. Vibrant-blue fire shot out from between his fangs at the massive plants and vegetables to the left of me.

I flinched away from the heat, closing my eyes as the acrid smell singed my nostrils.

When I opened my eyes, Lord Irrik stepped away from the field of ash, past me, to the shade of the beautiful willow tree from yesterday, now double the size and a healthy green from when I’d rested my hand on it. He stooped down to the ground by the trunk and picked up a small bag of potatoes there, a look of grim determination on his face.

“Here,” he said, holding them out to me. “You’ve got about an hour to grow these before the king arrives. I suggest you keep them potato size.”

“Why?” Wouldn’t bigger potatoes mean more food for the people? Would Irdelron really care if I could grow big potatoes?

A growl rumbled through Irrik’s chest. “How much power do you want to give him?”

Only enough to stay alive until I could get away. “Not much?”

He rolled his black eyes. “The more powerful you are, the tighter Irdelron will attempt to tether you.”

“You don’t trust him.” I didn’t see how anyone could, but I wanted to hear Irrik’s answer.

“I only trust myself. Everyone else will betray you if they have enough motivation.”

I furrowed my brow. “And Tyr. You trust Tyr, right?” Irrik sent him down to care for me.

He frowned, and his gaze darted to my lips, making me blush. Finally, he said, “Only to a point.”

* * *

I’d been jogging for an hour by the time the king’s carriage appeared, bouldering down the mountain path and smashing my peace to bits. I glanced toward the rows where Irrik finished burying the potatoes an hour ago. He’d made me roll each of them in my hands and count to ten. How did he know that would help? If he’d known that all along, why was he only sharing it with me now?

My sweat and spit had caused patches of the potato plants to erupt into massive potatoes—that were now ash. I doubted the king would be happy with the large bald patches between them. I’m sure there was a way to make a whole field uniformly luscious and plentiful and normal, though I had no idea how to make that happen. It wasn’t like I grew up with any instruction. Aside from rolling the tubers in my hands and lying in the freshly overturned dirt—courtesy of Irrik’s powerful wings and claws—doing dirt angels, I had no idea how to go about any of this.

—Phaetyn or Faking?—

—Ryn, Last and Worst of Her Kind—

—Patchy Phaetyn, Can’t Bring Home the Bacon—

—Skill-less Ryn, Still Skill-less, Even Though Her Spit is Magic—

The king’s carriage dipped and disappeared in a valley, and I hurried to the revitalized willow tree where Irrik hadn’t risen. Silent guards had arrived steadily in the last half hour in preparation of the monarch’s visit. Having them watch had been disconcerting, but Irrik barked at me, and I cared more about not having him yell than having them stare.

“Do you think it worked?” I asked, leaning against the willow tree. I rubbed my hand over the bark, staring at how different it was now compared to last night. The pale leaves had darkened to a vibrant green, and the trunk itself seemed thicker. Could I grow it large enough to take over a whole Harvest Zone? That would be cool.

He shrugged, finally deigning to stand, but didn’t meet my gaze. “Guess you’re about to find out.”

I surveyed the Drae, who still had me completely thrown. He’d planted smaller potatoes in the ground to fool the king into believing I was less powerful? But why help me? The only conclusion I came up with was that he either helped or hindered, depending on which suited his agenda. As to what his agenda was, I had no idea. Like no freaking clue.

“Thanks,” I chirped sarcastically. “That’s super helpful.”

Turning toward me, he met my gaze, but his expression remained completely flat. “I wasn’t trying to be helpful.”

Hinder it was.

We made our way to the king across the overturned dirt, Irrik several steps in front of me as I pushed my feet into the sunbaked dirt. As we neared the king, I stole a peek at his face. Drak. My feet tripped over each other. He was pissed. A definite step below his usual mild façade, which meant he was in viper mode. And the worst thing? Jotun was behind him, a cruel smile on his lips as he stared at me.

“The progress seems . . .” the king started as he turned to survey the area, his grimace hardening into a glare. His cold gaze flitted over me to Irrik. “Quite thin.”

He held a handkerchief over his mouth and nose as if I smelled bad. I thought back to the last hour. I probably did stink. Served the stupid king right.

“I agree,” Irrik replied without glancing my way. “She’s lazy.”

My mouth dropped open, and I turned to him. I’d been busting my butt! How dare he?

The king shifted his attention to me. “Is that so?” He pointed at Jotun and asked, “Do we need to add more incentive?”

I snapped my mouth shut and wiped the glare from my face, bowing to hide my frustration. Mumbling, I said, “I’m still figuring out how it works.”

Made more difficult by the Drae who’d burned everything to the ground in the last couple hours to allegedly help me. Only now he was throwing me under a moving cart. Having Jotun here wouldn’t help me grow anything, except more hate and bruises.

The king gave me a kind smile, which made my skin crawl instead of offering assurance. “Of course, you are, dear Phaetyn. Of course.” He chuckled like I was a niece he held a soft spot for. “Just don’t take too long, or I’ll have to see if Jotun’s brand of motivation is more convincing.”

His threat hung heavily in the air between us. As if I didn’t have enough pressure on me. Grow the entire kingdom food, Ryn. Be quick about it, Ryn. I’ll torture you if you don’t, Ryn.

Irrik snapped his fingers at a guard in a green aketon. “Dig.”

The guard frowned and looked around. The Drae growled and picked up a nearby garden hoe, chucking it at the man. “Dig.”

“Where, my lord?” the guard stammered.

“In the ground, you idiot. Anywhere.” Irrik pointed at a mound of freshly turned dirt. “There.”

The guard hurried over and dug the hoe into the soft soil. He pulled the tool back, and two large potatoes tumbled from within the bunched dirt.

Those spuds were larger than the ones Irrik had put in the ground. Much larger.

“But what’s this?” the king neared. “Potatoes.” His gaze narrowed, and he pointed. “Dig there.” He pointed to a spot where Irrik hadn’t buried potatoes.

The guard dug, but nothing came up.

“It only works in patches,” I offered lamely. “I’ll try to smooth it out.”

The king smiled back at the potatoes. “Yes, dear Phaetyn. Do that.” His expression smoothed, and he stared at Irrik for several moments before giving a curt nod. “Make sure it works.”

Oh, great. I wondered if I was the it he referred to. Probably.

I’ll get right to work, A-hole.