Tyrrik settled like a raptor on a branch. Despite his obvious fatigue, everything about him was predatory. His inky gaze remained fixed on me. “You’ve felt the connection between us. I’m able to hear your thoughts, and you hear mine. If we keep that bond open.”

I flushed, remembering the time I’d severed the emotional tie with him when flying over the mountains.

“The connection doesn’t just allow us to speak,” he said, glancing at his hands. “In our culture, the male is the protector. The female—”

“Do not tell me I’m meant to be peaceful again. I have perfectly violent tendencies myself.”

“I was not going to say that.” He raised a brow, but his expression remained dark. “Drae females are perfectly capable of defending themselves. But their role in a mated couple is to balance the male’s violence, to ground him, and when they are threatened, to strengthen him.”

Despite myself, I edged closer, not wanting to miss a single word. Leaning toward him, I asked, “Strengthen him how?”

He glanced up, meeting my gaze for only a moment before looking away.

I studied the hang of his shoulders and bit my lip. Even though I was filled with confusion, the prominent feeling racking me was guilt. Tyrrik had divulged the truth to me, and I couldn’t find it within myself to give him what he so clearly wanted. Why did that seem like such a grave offense?

“You have felt the push and pull of Drae energy,” he finally answered. “You’ve practiced pulling the tendrils of power that flow between us back into yourself.”

Our lesson in the mountains felt like so long ago, but I remembered asking him how to protect my thoughts from the emperor. “Yes.”

He shrugged. “Instead of pulling the tendrils into yourself, you push them into me.”

I stirred uneasily at the thought. Putting more into the tendrils weaving between us? When I used my Phaetyn powers on Tyrrik, it was almost business-like, the same as I’d do for anybody with an injury. I saw the problem, and I healed it. But the tendrils of Drae power between us . . . they were different. I knew they were specific to us. The idea of expanding the threads of force that connected us, increasing them in size and strength so the attachment was more powerful, made me feel faintly unwell. I didn’t want to be chained to Tyrrik; I didn’t want to be chained to anyone. I changed the subject. “Anything else I should know?”

“Plenty you should know, but not much you’ll want to.”

I crossed my arms, irritated that he seemed so confident in his assessment. “Try me.”

A ghost of a smile lit his face, and his eyes warmed. “Your sudden obsession with shiny objects.”

My hand went to the top of my corset, and Tyrrik chuckled. Inside the corset sat my ruby and golden pill box. “What about them?”

“It is a courtship ritual between male and female Drae, just as my scales reflect the color of your scales to show I am the right mate for you.”

A courtship ritual. “Me collecting precious things does something . . . for you?”

Scales appeared on his shoulder and climbed up his neck. “The way you care for precious things does.”

My face slackened. “You’re right. I don’t want to know any more.”

His face closed off, and the guilt gnawing in my chest roared in protest.

I sighed and went to sit beside him on the rock. Dyter could come back as soon as he liked in my humble opinion. “Tyrrik,” I said. “When did you know we were mates?”

He slowly turned to me, and I saw the scales had a lapis lazuli glow to their onyx shine. His gaze dropped to my lips, and he said, “When I first touched you.”

“The nape of my neck,” I said. I remembered the moment; it was seared in my memory.

A shiver rippled down him, and the twist of his neck was decidedly Drae. “Yes,” he rumbled, his guttural voice filling the rocky shelter. “The nape of your neck, though it could have been anywhere.”

I remembered the pain, falling to my knees, knowing something had just happened to me, and chalking up the sensation to the Lord Drae before me. He’d known from the very first moment, our first meeting. He’d kept this to himself the entire time? His actions in the room with my mother took on new meaning, his desperation to get me out of my bedroom and away from the guards to save me from the king. My heart clenched as I thought of Tyrrik as Ty and about all the information he’d disclosed, the effort he’d made to be close to me while in prison. I thought of his tender ministrations as Tyr. He wasn’t just trying to clean up my blood to keep me from being discovered by the king. Tyr hadn’t needed to be gentle to wash the evidence away. He’d risked a lot to even bring me food. I thought of the emotion in his eyes when he’d come as Irrik to give me a bath. I’d thought I was part of some game, and I was right, just not about who he was playing for. My throat clogged with feeling. I swallowed the lump as the memories washed over me. Was Dyter right?

Tyrrik had been watching my face, and he slowly raised his fingers toward the nape of my neck.

His scent made me dizzy; his eyes stared to the deepest recesses in me. My head and my heart were no longer in agreement of the certainty I’d known a few minutes ago. That’s what made me jerk my upper body away.

We were both panting hard with only an arm’s length between us. With wide eyes, we stared at each other.

“Tyrrik, I . . .” I started then cut off. How could I put my reaction into words? How did I explain to him my doubts regarding him shrank every day, no, every second, but my self-doubt only grew?

I felt him seal himself off. He pulled his energy back into himself, his expression smoothed, and his eyes hardened. He slid the mask he’d worn for a century back into place, and still I could not think of a word to say.

“It is no less than I expected,” he said, his voice rough.

I reached out a hand, and this time it was Tyrrik who lurched away, going so far as to stand.

“It’s not you—” I said, even though there were some reservations against him in my heart. “I need time. Mating seems so . . .” Final.

“For Drae, there is no between,” Tyrrik said, brusquely. “Mates feel too much to be slowed by petty human traditions of courtship. You either accept me, or you do not.” His eyes turned to slits, and he spun away. “I cannot woo you as you would like or expect.”

The comment slapped me across the face. “That’s too much to ask? To know you better?”

“Yes,” he said, striding for the edge of the shelter as blue-black scales covered his exposed skin.

Yes, it is, his final words echoed through our bond.

* * *

A part of me felt bad Dyter was stuck in the middle of the awkwardness between Tyrrik and me. Over the next two days, the cave was seriously uncomfortable and not because the only furniture it offered was rocks. More than once, I thought of offering an apology, but then what was I apologizing for? Binding was a serious decision, and I shouldn’t be guilted or manipulated into it. As for Dyter, he’d left me alone with the Drae, so maybe I shouldn’t feel bad about that either.

Tyrrik needed time to regain his strength, and I’d be lying if I said my body wasn’t craving the same.

The two days passed with hunting, drinking, sleeping, and Tyrrik’s sulking—or so I’d dubbed it. The Drae was back to his Lord Broody-Pants days, except without pants. He was sullen and withdrawn, only answering if he was asked a direct question, and then only with as few words as possible.

On the other hand, I had every reason to be in a bad mood, which was why I felt no guilt for my grumpiness.

I couldn’t understand his last comment. I’d assumed he wanted to mate with me; I still did, but if he wanted to be with me for life, which was a freakin’ long time judging by the emperor’s lifespan and the fact that Tyrrik had been alive for over a century, why didn’t he want to court me? The mate . . . thing didn’t seem like an option really, although I wasn’t fully Drae, so things could be different for me. If being each other’s mate wasn’t an option, why didn’t he want us to get to know each other?

I’d spent yesterday certain he only wanted me for my baby-making ovaries. Then, most of today, I was sure I was only an annoyance to him, which reinforced my previous point about making Drae babies. But, a part of me, a little bit of Ryn, kept telling me I had it completely wrong. Though that bit of Ryn was the part that felt warm when Tyrrik neared her and dizzy at his scent.

That Ryn seemed a little untrustworthy.

And now, I was talking about myself in third person. Maybe I was going crazy. I nodded as I came to the conclusion.

Everything was on the up and up.

“We need to leave for Gemond today,” Tyrrik said, interrupting the internal assessment of my sanity.

Dyter glanced at me, and I replied to him, “You need another few days to recover.”

Dyter’s gaze slid to Tyrrik, who answered, “It’s not safe for us to stay here.”

Dyter looked back at me.

“We haven’t seen the emperor at all in the last two days,” I said, my eyes narrowing. “Not since before entering Zivost.”

“You think that means he’s not here in some capacity? His Druman are a direct extension of the emperor himself,” Tyrrik replied, facing me now. “You think he won’t have guessed the Zivost was our first stop and Gemond our second?”

What I thought was that Tyrrik should still be using Dyter as a conversational middleman.

Crossing my arms, I turned to the Drae with a sniff. “You’re not strong enough yet. What if we come across the emperor on the way to Gemond? What then? You probably couldn’t fight off a Druman right now.”

Tyrrik’s eyes flooded with inky black.

“He’s right, my girl,” Dyter said, clearing his throat. “We’ve stayed too long in one place, and it makes us sitting prey.” Dyter stood and grabbed all of our possessions—his pack and the water skin. “I believe Kamini and Kamoi will take control of the Phaetyn in time, but we risk too much by lingering. The queen’s supporters may decide to come after us.”

“Fine, let’s go. Who cares if we encounter the freakin’ emperor? Or Druman?” I stood abruptly, and fear spiked my gut when I spoke of Jotun’s kind. The thought of encountering more like him made my heart race. Cheeks flushing, I strode for the edge of the rocky overhang.

Tyrrik caught my arm as I passed him, halting me. He frowned as he studied me, and his thumb caressed my arm. “You know I’ll protect you, Ryn.”

Oh sure. Now he’d speak to me and act like I was the unreasonable one. I yanked my arm free and started down the rocky hill. I resisted the urge to kick at the patches of scrub on the way down, muttering to myself about stupid old men and stupid Drae.

The sun had only peeked over the horizon in the last hour, and its rays were still tentative as they stretched into day. Rain had fallen overnight, and the once-packed dirt between the rocks and shrubs was mud and puddles of clear water. I reached the bottom of the hill, realized I didn’t know where I was going, and turned to wait for Dyter and him.

Dyter lifted a brow and pointed right.

I rolled my eyes and waited for them, inhaling the strong pine smell with the undercurrent of charred wood from our meager fires that must’ve settled in the valley of trees. When Dyter took the lead, I asked him, “How long until we get to Gemond?”

“On foot, two weeks. If we were flying, a day.”

“Then why aren’t we flying?”

I picked after Dyter through the forest. Only the trickle of a stream disturbed the silence, a reminder of what Tyrrik and I were from the absence of animal sound. Of course, the creatures of the forest sensed our presence, and they knew to make themselves scarce.

That’s how I felt about the emperor, but I still preferred to risk flying to Gemond. Besides the speed of travel, I wanted to scout the area. Kamini’s sister could be right under our noses.

“Tyrrik is not strong enough to carry me,” Dyter replied. “And he thought you might not feel comfortable flying with me.”

The Drae was right, but I wasn’t going to admit it. Instead of answering, I remained mute, which still felt like an admission. Drak.

We continued picking our way through the underbrush, and I became painfully aware of Tyrrik walking behind me. What was he looking at? As we began to climb the next mountain, I was convinced he was staring at my butt. As I pushed up and over a large boulder, I glanced back.

Totally staring at my butt.

He smirked when he caught my gaze, and I turned up my nose, facing the front. Didn’t our argument two days prior bother him? I couldn’t think of anything else. What had he meant with his parting remark? Not knowing was driving me mad.

I panted as we climbed, but it wasn’t because I was out of shape. “I hate corsets,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I dreamed of aketons last night.” An aketon and my usual ankle-length skirt or trousers. I’d even take an aketon without pants at this point. “Dyter, why didn’t you pack another aketon?”

Dyter turned and said, “If you remember, we were in a bit of a hurry when we left Zivost. I’m sure we can find you other clothing in Gemond.”

I thought of the mountains we’d have to climb between now and then. “I’ll die before we get there.”

“Then take it off,” Dyter snapped without looking back.

A menacing growl rippled over my head before I’d fully processed Dyter’s response.

“She’s not taking anything off,” Tyrrik snarled.

I ignored the big lizard stalking behind me. I already knew his aketon was in a bunch. “What’s blocking your pipe, Dyter?”

He threw a scowl over his shoulder, taking a moment to let his disapproval settle first on me and then the Drae behind me. “You two have frayed my last nerve.”

My brief flash of good humor disappeared. “It’s Tyrrik’s fault. He’s sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” the one-hundred-and-nine-year old said.

“Mmm-hmm, sure.”

Dyter exploded. “Enough!” He whirled on us, stomping back to wave a finger in my face. “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t speak at all.”

“That’s what we were doing before,” I huffed. “You said it made you cranky.” By this point, I was needling the old man, but I craved an outlet for my frustration, and he’d offered one.

“Not cranky . . . irritable.” He sighed, his anger draining away as he looked at me.

“So you’re not cranky, and Tyrrik’s not sulking,” I said, nodding as I doubled down on my own stupidity.

“Ryn?” Dyter offered me a weary half-smile.

“Yes?”

“I love you. But shut up.” He marched ahead to lead the way again.