“I . . .” I inhaled sharply. “I thought I was the only Phaetyn left.”

Tyrrik spoke from behind me. “The only one in Verald.”

“You knew?” Dropping Kamoi’s hand, I threw the accusation at Tyrrik. There were other Phaetyn, and he’d kept that from me? I wondered what else he knew that I didn’t, and a seriously long list of questions ticked through my mind. “How did you fail to mention that?”

“I’m fairly certain, I told you to go to Zivost when I tried to help you escape the dungeons.” He tilted his head at me, and continued in a dry voice, “And somehow, the Phaetyn didn’t come up again in the last three days when you were pretending I didn’t exist.”

I cleared my throat, refusing to dignify that with an answer.

The stunning Prince of the Phaetyn peered past me, and I felt the heat at my back increase as Tyrrik neared. The Drae stood just behind me, and I shot a look at Dyter who wiped the smirk off his face in a flash.

“The emperor would have felt his three Druman dying just now,” the prince said. “You’ve just alerted him that things here may not be as calm as they were.”

Tyrrik nodded. “Better that than having them carry back reports of what they saw here, or what they would certainly discover here in Verald. Even worse would be if they followed us on our journey.”

“I thought you couldn’t kill Drae,” Dyter said, joining the small semi-circle outside his sister’s ruined tavern.

The old coot hadn’t said a single thing about The Raven’s Hollow being ruined. Dyrell wasn’t even my sister, and I was pissed.

Tyrrik broke off his stare down with Kamoi and faced Dyter. Replying to the implied question, he said, “I cannot kill Drae. Or my blood. They were neither Drae nor my blood.”

Druman were half human, half Drae. The emperor had a hoard of them, and Tyrrik had been forced to create a large number here in Verald for King Irdelron, the only way to keep him safe from the emperor’s Druman force in our land.

The Drae’s comment about travel caught up with me. “Wait, wait. What journey? I haven’t signed up for a journey.” I surveyed the mess before me and in a voice trembling with emotion, said, “I will rebuild.”

The Phaetyn prince burst into laughter—if the sound of a quartet of singing birds, burnt-sugar candy, and fresh-cut grass could be called that. I smiled despite myself.

“You’re funny, my Lady,” he said. “I wasn’t happy to be sent here at first, but now I’m glad my mother assigned this quest to me.”

“We were coming to Zivost Forest anyway,” Tyrrik snapped, pulling me away.

I tilted my head up at the broody Drae. What’s got your aketon in a bunch?

Too late, I realized we were touching. The Drae’s lips quivered, but he made no reply.

Kamoi sighed. “I am glad to hear it, Lord Drae. I was sent to see if the rumors of a Phaetyn here were true. My mother wishes to assess her powers and teach her of the Phaetyn ways.”

I scratched my forearm through my long sleeves. I’d taken to wearing them when lapis lazuli scales began erupting all over my skin. Whenever I got emotional, which felt like all the time now, bits of my skin would change to scales. “There’s probably something you should know —”

“We need to speak with the king.” Dyter overrode me. “Before she can leave Verald.”

I frowned at him. What was his deal? Pointy Ears was clearly my kin. I felt it. He wanted to help me. Seemed impolite to not inform him I’d transform into a monster tomorrow. Maybe that would affect whatever training I needed.

Tyrrik covered the resulting awkwardness. “I agree. An audience with Caltevyn would be best.”

I closed my eyes, anger trickling into my body, and I dug in my heels. “I said, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to be a part of this fight! It’s not mine. I’m done with it.”

Dyter crossed to me and took my hand. “Rynnie, no one is asking you to be ready to fight tomorrow. If you still don’t want to fight when the time comes, that’s your choice. But wake up, my girl. There are other reasons to go to Zivost Forest. And if not to help yourself, consider the people of Verald. They may not be safe during your”—he shifted his eyes to the prince and cautiously finished—“transition when a certain person is alerted to your existence.” He pursed his lips before continuing. “I will be going to Zivost Forest, just so you know. There is much to discuss with the Phaetyn now that things have changed here.”

Drak, he knew just where to stab. Dyter was the only person I had left from my previous life. He’d first helped Mum and me when we arrived in Verald, and he’d always been my mentor, and in recent times, my boss. He was the only father I’d ever known. I needed him. I did want to learn how to be a proper Phaetyn, and I didn’t want to hurt the people here . . .

I opened my eyes, heaving a bone-weary exhale. “I’ll think about it. But the answer will probably be no.”

Despite my words, I’d already decided I’d be going. Judging by the gleam in Dyter’s eyes, he knew it, too.

Ignoring the other two man-creatures, I stomped in the direction of the ruined tavern to find a corner to spend the night. “I’m done now. I need some rest. You can all leave.”

“Be at the castle at first light,” Tyrrik said, I assumed, to Kamoi. The Drae knew better than to talk to me in that voice.

I heard someone leave and glanced up to see both Dyter and the Phaetyn prince were gone. I paused, one foot on a pile of broken bricks. My birthday was tomorrow, and there was something I needed to know and only one person I could ask. I knew he wouldn’t leave me, he’d already said as much, so without turning around, I called out to Lord Tyrrik, “Is it going to happen tonight?”

I heard him inhale long and hard. Because that’s not creepy at all.

“Not tonight,” his silky voice carried to me. “Tomorrow, Ryn . . . when darkness falls.”

* * *

I was just going for the company, I decided. I didn’t want to spend my birthday alone. In a bout of morbidness, I’d elected to walk into the center of Verald to the King’s Castle through my old zone. And, potential birthday company aside, I wasn’t about to let Dyter leave the kingdom without me. Who knew what kind of trouble he could, and probably would, get in with Tyrrik there?

Harvest Zone Seven was still mostly a wedge-shaped hunk of ash from when Tyrrik burned it to the ground, with the exception of my Tyr flowers. Now he’d also demolished The Raven’s Hollow, I had nowhere else to go. The people of the Inbetween and Money Coil were yet to come back and rebuild Zone Seven. Who knew if they ever would? And I doubted any more of Dyter’s relatives would want to take me in, knowing I was cursed to be shadowed by a destructive Drae.

I trudged through the mostly barren Harvest Zone that had been my life only a few months ago. The Zone still had no buildings, but there was life now.

Harvest Zone Seven was filled with fields of blue flowers, the shape of the metal one my mother took me to during my childhood. In the moonlight, my vibrant blooms glowed. Thinking about them, I wondered if maybe it hadn’t been that hard for the Phaetyn prince and emperor to find me. The pressure of my emotions built behind my eyes as I moved between the thick stalks of blossoms, but I shoved the feelings back, instead concentrating on the soft petals as I trailed my fingers over them. Those blooms I touched flared with light, standing to attention as I passed.

They were Tyrs as I’d named them. Tears to everyone else who didn’t know about the man I’d fallen in love with while captive. A gentle, kind, caring soul who I’d believed I could’ve spent the rest of my life with. If he’d been real.

I sighed, walking across the Market Circuit, the ring road that went through all twelve Harvest Zones. I entered into the quota fields on the other side of that, trudging through a field of pumpkins. Not one to miss an opportunity, I spat on my hands and touched the pumpkins as I passed, willing them to be huge tomorrow.

I was reasonably certain the land in Verald would survive while I was away, but a bit of extra pumpkin soup never hurt. I made a mental note to ask the king how he was going to keep his subjects fed. Everyone had just been taking what they wanted thus far, but with the king now coronated, he’d soon have to establish order.

As I began my climb up the mountain pass to the castle, I pulled down my sleeves to cover the blue scales. The iridescent gem-like additions to my body hadn’t disappeared since I awoke, and they weren’t the only noticeable difference. My mind must’ve been playing tricks because my teeth seemed awfully sharp, and my sense of smell was quite a lot better. Happy birthday to me.

I chuckled nervously, feeling dizzy. Those things probably meant nothing. My being Drae still wasn’t certain. My gaze fell to my arms, the scales beneath my shirt calling my bluff.

Reaching the castle gates, I halted and sat on a mound of grass directly outside them. I crossed my legs in my ankle-length, practical, brown skirt, smoothing my deep-blue aketon over the top. Assuming I’d need to wait here for a while, I sank my hands into the ground and sent my Phaetyn mojo out.

“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.