Page 113 of Black Crown

The Druman swung his dagger downward in a slow arc. And sliced through my mate.

Blistering pain stabbed through our bond, and my vision wavered.Tyrrik?I gasped. Frozen, panic pressed from all sides as I felt the poison course through his body. I screamed,Tyrrik!

I reached through our bond as desperation flooded me. I screamed his name over and over. Phaetyn poison pumped through him, carried by his bloodstream to kill him. I screeched and lashed my tail wide as I spun in a circle, leveling everyone within reach. I crouched and then bounded into the air as I extended my wings, pumping as hard as I could.

Tyrrik’s pain consumed me, yanking me to him. I tried to focus through the blinding panic. Tyrrikneededme to focus.Hold on, my love,I begged him.

At the bottom of the valley laid my mate, right where Azule met with Draedyn’s lands. Throughout the area, only small skirmishes remained. The army might think the battle was won. How wrong they were.

There. In the center of a mixed cluster of Phaetyn and humans were three Drae. In a blur I could barely decipher, my mind absorbed the scene. Tyrrik and Draedyn were in their human forms. And one of the female Drae lay still in the dirt. The once vibrant amethyst color of her scales was now gray and ashy. The lack of movement from her rib cage indicated the end of her suffering, and as I drew near, the coppery tang of blood wafted into the air from the gaping wound on her side. Druman surrounded her body, their weapons dripping with her blood.

They were killing my kin. And yet, despite what I knew through my bond, that my mate was dying, a small part of me hoped I was wrong, that only this female had been slaughtered and not the other half of me.

Three Phaetyn were on the ground . . . Two of the three silver-haired healers lay prone and unmoving, their skin sliced to ribbons and their heads twisted at an unnatural angle. Kamini knelt between her two dead compatriots, her face buried in her hands as her small frame shook with her sobs.

I didn’t care. If my mate was safe, I would’ve felt grief on their behalf. But my heart lay torn and exposed on the ground, and as my gaze fell to Tyrrik, what was left of me disappeared.

In front of Kamini was my mate, his back riddled with small blades.

High in the sky, my vision tunneled, a strangulated groan escaped through my snout, and I swept closer, vicious determination filling me. He would not die.

I would save my love.

I had to save him.

The closer I flew, the more the crowd funneled in. As if they believe that by closing ranks, they could prevent my landing. I bellowed in warning, but the group refused to heed my caution. Red crept in on the edges of my vision and then flooded my every sense. I barreled forward, pulling up at the last second.

Only one thing could have stopped me in that moment. How had Draedyn known?

Terror squeezed my heart. Dyter stood in the midst of the cluster and, next to him, the Verald servant he’d disappeared with, clinging to his arm. Behind Dyter, a Druman hovered, holding a knife to my oldest friend’s throat.

And yet, Tyrrik was dying.

I pulled up when the Druman inched the blade over Dyter’s neck, and he cried out. I couldn’t make sense of my thoughts. Instinct screamed at me, and my mind was desperately,furiously,attempting to figure this out. Or maybe my mind knew there was no solution.

I circled wide, and the Druman released his pressure on the blade. Keeping Dyter in my line of sight and Tyrrik in my periphery, I angled to the left and landed. Swinging my tail wide once again, I cleared the area around me.

Empty space surrounded me for a heartbeat, and then the crowd converged on me. I roared and whipped my tail in figure-of-eights, the mace-like weapon plowing into the Druman and humans alike. Screams rent the air, and the tang of blood increased as the spikes tore into my attackers. Crimson warmth splattered as I raked my talons through a group of humans foolish enough to attack now, when my mate was breathing his last breath and my true father was at knife point. I’d kill them all!

Weapons bounced off my vibrant-blue scales, impenetrable without the aid of Phaetyn blood. I lashed through the foolish and stubborn mortals, ending their existence without remorse. I turned my pain and anguish upon them; they’d been complicit in Draedyn’s reign.

A sharp sting pinched my back, followed by a bolster of energy. I reeled to see who was so foolish and couldn’t stop my broad smile as I faced several dozen of my father’s mules. I charged.

Lunging forward, I snapped my jaws through two of the men and rose up on my hind legs to toss their bodies wide. I roared again and swung my forelegs in an arc, letting my talons carve through those who remained. I brought my front legs back to the ground as a group of Druman moved as a pack toward me. Wielding my head as a weapon, I reared back and then hurtled down. The horns atop my thick skull hit the group, impaling three of them and sending two more airborne.

I stomped the ground and bellowed, challenging anyone. Everyone. I would not stop until I reached my loved ones’ sides.

I could feel my mate as I shifted back to my Phaetyn form. I couldn’t see him, but he was still alive, his pain consuming. His vitality was draining rapidly. I tried to burn out the golden Phaetyn blood, but with the number of distractions to still deal with, I couldn’t give him the singular focus needed. I sent waves of my healing power to him during the brief silence as additional enemies sprinted to attack, but they were too far away to stop me. I shoved more power at him and pleaded,Hold on, Tyrrik. Hold on . . .

I had to kill Draedyn. Only then would this madness stop. I stepped in the direction of his emerald power, my fangs and talons lengthening on their own accord as I prepared to fight.

My father stood in the center of the clearing. I froze as the scene before me bludgeoned my chest; my breath completely stolen. To Draedyn’s right were Kamini and the two dead Phaetyn; to hisleftDyter stood with the Veraldian woman, a Druman behind him with the knife.

And in front of my father was my mate. Tyrrik lay face down, unmoving.

“No,” I cried. My heart shattered, and I screamed, “No.”

“Ryn?” Dyter moved his head slightly to the right and flinched. His face was covered in bruises and dried blood. The Druman pressed the blade tight against Dyter’s throat, and he froze. His split lip oozed fresh crimson horror to mix with all the other evidence of pain he’d had to endure. Next to Dyter, the servant from Verald wept incoherent pleas for assistance. Behind the Druman holding a knife to Dyter stood a row of Azulis, their weapons aimed at the Druman.