I set the bowls in front of the Druman, too angry at the Drae I’d just left to be afraid. The three of them were looking over at the two young men, my regulars, with an intensity that bordered on creepy. Pushing my lips into a smile as insincere as it was uncomfortable, I asked the Druman, “Was there anything else you needed?”

Dyter was still at the bar, pouring a refill for one of my customers. His features twisted with concern, the scar he’d gotten while fighting in the war blanching, as he watched the three men. Dyter was king-to-be Caltevyn’s right-hand man and knew a great deal more than he let on. He’d probably recognized these guys as soon as they entered and had been worrying ever since. As if that ever helped anyone.

The mumbler said something about meat, but the other two shook their heads. None of them reached for the bowls I’d given them, let alone glanced my way.

Like a festering wound I couldn’t leave alone, I asked, “Do you want to pay in coin, or do you have something to trade?”

I saw Dyter’s expression tighten in warning out of the corner of my eye.

The biggest Druman dropped several coins on the counter, way too many for the stew, and scanned the room, not even bothering to glance my way.

“I need ale,” a gray-haired man barked, taking a seat next to them. “And make it quick, wench.”

“Manners don’t cost a thing, old man, but your ale will be twice the price if you call me that again.” I dropped the tray on the bar and turned to get the rude codger his mug.

One of the Druman moved closer to the man, and I listened, trying to pick out the conversation.

“What do you mean?” the Druman asked in a low voice.

“Oh, you missed the revolution,” the old guy chortled. “Caltevyn is the ruler now. Our Phaetyn comes out at night to heal our land. That way the Drae can protect her.”

One of the other men grimaced and added, “He also killed hundreds of the rebels and torched our Harvest Zone. A mixed bag, that one.”

Drak. How did he know all that? I wasn’t sure even Dyter knew I still went out to heal the land. I glanced at him, and the glower he wore let me know this was news to him. That didn’t explain how the old man knew.

“Does the king still keep the Phaetyn? We’d very much like to meet her. Emperor Draedyn is most anxious to have her visit.”

The old man chuckled. His gaze flitted my way, and his face seemed to blur a moment. I blinked, but when I looked again, his weathered features were back in place.

“Caltevyn would love to keep her, but she refuses to stay there,” the old man said.

“Where does she stay? It’s hardly safe to let his only Phaetyn wander,” said the brawniest of the three. The two other Druman were also focused on the strange man.

“Lord Tyrrik won’t let her out of his sight, so she’s plenty safe. Although why a Drae would be interested in a Phaetyn is anyone’s guess.” The man raised his eyebrows at me. “Were you going to bring me that drink, Ryn?”

My heart stopped.

How did he know my name? I’m sure there was an explanation for it; perhaps he’d overheard Dyter. I filled another mug and set it down in front of the old bloke, my anxiety climbing as he assessed the beverage but didn’t pick it up.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” I breathed. He’d yelled at me through the kitchen for it only a minute before. “Why are you even—”

“Ryn,” Dyter warned.

I snapped my mouth shut with a click of my back teeth.

Several things happened at once. The three Druman stood and drew weapons, wicked curved swords with blades the color of blood. The noise in the tavern switched off as though a tap had been turned, and the silent and frantic crowd scrambled back to give the men space.

Lord Tyrrik appeared next to me. I tilted my head up and, as expected, his eyes were all midnight black, and ebony scales had appeared on his forearms and neck. As I watched, his fangs slid down.

The old man disappeared, the air shimmering for a few seconds before a man with silver hair and pointy ears sat in his place. A stunning man. He drew out a short blade the color of his hair and balanced it on the tip of his forefinger, eyes sliding to the standing Druman.

“Are you boys looking for a fight?” the stunning man asked in a lilting voice.

Tyrrik swore long and hard in Drae. The shadows gathered around him, heeding his call, and the strange flickering blue color in his onyx scales flashed for all to see. He stepped behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me to him, a menacing sound rumbling in his chest.

I stiffened and tensed to shove away from him, but he grabbed my bare wrist and spoke in my mind. Not now. I need to get you out of here. You can be angry at me later.

The darkness continued to coil around us, wrapping us in its silky embrace. Tyrrik pulled me closer. This was the first time I’d let him touch me since we’d left the castle, and something in my chest felt funny with the contact. Probably indigestion.

Come with me now. Tyrrik moved us out of the tavern room in a blur that left my head spinning. I gasped and opened my eyes to find we were in the back alley, and Tyrrik’s skin was rippling with black scales.

“No, Tyrrik,” I screamed. I knew what would happen if he turned into a dragon. My heart ripped and bled, the pressure mounting in my chest. “Please,” I begged. “Don’t shift here!”

The air around Tyrrik shimmered, and I covered my head, ducking as an inferno of heat erupted. The heat grew, sweeping upward, billowing and coiling until all I knew was the consuming warmth of the Drae.

My pounding heart settled as the sensation dimmed, and I uncovered my head.

Then blinked.

“Holy pancakes,” I murmured. I was standing between two huge, onyx-scaled Drae legs. “Holy pancakes,” I repeated, edging out. “Please don’t squish me. The community will be devastated.”

The Drae was oddly still. As I crept past Tyrrik’s armored chest and came alongside his giant fanged head, I saw why.

“The tavern,” I mouthed. The back half of Dyrell’s tavern was demolished, Tyrrik’s Drae butt now sitting where the kitchen used to be. It was the second tavern he’d demolished, and even though I hadn’t owned either of them, both The Crane’s Nest and The Raven’s Hollow had been safe-havens in my life.

“You ruined my tavern!” I grabbed at Tyrrik, and he lowered his head. Holding either side of his Drae face, I narrowed my eyes at his slightly sheepish expression. “You are so paying for that,” I snarled, staring into his inky eyes. “In coin, not carrots.” I released his head and sank to my knees. “Everything . . . I’ve worked for. In ruins.”

Tyrrik nudge me with his snout. It’s only been three days.

He breathed out warm air, and I shivered as it hit my back. Glancing back to shoot another insult his way, my breath caught as bright blue rippled through his scales in a wave.

“Why do they do that?” I whispered, getting to my feet. I laid my hand on his scales, and as I did, the blue flickered in its depths. Warm tingles ran up my arm, and the skin where my scales had started to appear pulsed. “What is that?”

But shouting and screaming broke my trance before he could answer.

“My patrons.” I burst into a run down the alley, leaping over the rubble of Tyrrik’s transformation. I got to the end, and a whining crack had me whipping back around.

Tyrrik was squeezing through the alley after me, demolishing the rest of The Raven’s Hollow and the wall of the store next to the tavern as he did so. Lifting his head, he huffed at me.

“I don’t believe this,” I muttered.

I was not waiting for him and his stupid Drae butt to squeeze from between the two buildings. I sprinted to the front and rounded the corner, skidding to a stop.

The crowd was outside and staring at the tavern in shock. Hopefully all of them got out. People from the nearby businesses poured into the dirt streets, and I scanned the increasing mass of humanity for the one person who mattered most. I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw him.

Dyter caught sight of me and hurried to my side.

“Ryn,” he said, gathering me up. “What happened?”

I resisted the slight discomfort at Dyter touching me. I avoided touching most people now, but I refused to let what had happened affect things with my only remaining family. I jerked my head at Tyrrik as he escaped from the alley. “He accidentally shifted. Though, after one hundred and nine years, I’m not sure how that happens. I certainly don’t have accidents anymore.”

Tyrrik hadn’t done this on purpose, had he? After spending months in his company, only to discover he’d deceived me the entire time, I really couldn’t be sure. He was manipulative to the extreme.

The Drae stomped into the road, clearing a space in the crowd before the pile of wood, iron, and bricks that had been The Raven’s Hollow and the inn next door. There was a heartbeat of shocked silence, and then the screaming started anew. Really, it was amazing how quickly the crowd cleared after that.

The illusion I’d built of returning to my normalcy ran away with the patrons. I wanted to cry, scream, and run away, too. I wanted to scream and never stop screaming, but I shoved the emotion away, refusing to let it take hold of me. Standing next to Dyter, I stared after the crowd of humans fleeing. “I didn’t know Seryt could run that fast.”

Hearing a scratching sound, I turned to see Dyter rubbing his chin. “He’s in front of all the young’uns,” he said. “Impressive.”

Within seconds, the space was empty and the only ‘people’ remaining were the three Druman, the stunning man with silver hair, and the three of us.

Tyrrik stood over me, still in his Drae form, and puffed out a small jet of flame. The molten heat landed just in front of the three Druman before angling up.

A cloud of smoke appeared. I coughed, waving my hand to clear the air, and my jaw dropped.

“Where’d they go?” I went to stand where the three large men had been.

“Look down, Rynnie,” Dyter said drily.

I glanced down and saw I stood in the middle of three piles of ash. I swallowed and, with my voice shaking, said, “You could’ve warned me.” Not so long ago, it hadn’t been Druman being burned to white ash; it had been two hundred rebels who had come to save me.

I swallowed again and stepped out of the Druman remains, avoiding Tyrrik’s gaze.

Dyter was eyeing the stunning man with pointy ears. I turned to study him and found I couldn’t really blame Dyter’s blatant interest; I wanted to keep looking, too. The stranger wore hugging brown breeches and a loose forest-green tunic ornamented with golden buttons down the front. The curved top of his chest muscles peeked through the open neck of the tunic, and I cataloged the sight. A leather belt with two sheathed daggers hung around his hips. Another loop of leather was slung across his torso, holding three more daggers. I should have been scared of the newcomer, but I couldn’t figure out how to connect with my emotions after I’d just banished most of them. I was curious, so maybe that was something.

A growl filled Tyrrik’s chest as I continued to look my fill.

Rather than being put off by the ginormous Drae at my back—when had I stopped being afraid of that, by the way—the stranger pulled his dagger again, stepped forward, and balanced it on the pad of his finger.

I watched the action, certain if I could learn that one trick, I wouldn’t need to actually learn to fight with a dagger. It’d be a great bluff.

The air shimmered, warmth flowing over me as Tyrrik shifted back.

I refused to look at the Drae even though his presence assured my safety from the strangers in the tavern. Instead, I folded my arms and asked Pointy Ears, “Who’re you?”

The man sheathed his dagger and extended his hand. “I am named Kamoi.”

Something about the man called to me, and without conscious thought, despite the fact that physical touch with anyone but Dyter had given me a sensation of bugs under my skin for the last three days, I clasped his hand. I gasped as I stared into his eyes for the first time. Violet. The area where our hands touched flared, and a smoldering heat swept through me.

“You’re Phaetyn?” I whispered, continuing to hold his hand though I knew the hand shake had officially gone on too long.

“The rumors are true,” he said as he bowed over my hand. “My lady, I am glad to find you, another Phaetyn.”

Unease crawled over me with his words where his touch hadn’t bothered me. I couldn’t help where my mind went. I formed the words with a thick tongue. “We’re the only two left?”

A teasing light entered his eyes. “No, my Lady. I am merely one of our kind. I am the Prince of the Phaetyn.”