Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae, #2)

by Kelly St. Claire

“That would be a great slogan. Never underestimate what a hot stew can do. Maybe I’ll open up my own tavern.”

“If you ever want me to trust you, ever, you need to stop hiding things from me. Stop omitting details. Stop passively letting me come to the wrong conclusion. If you want my trust, you need to stop doing what you’re doing.” I pointed at Dyter and the prince. “If the three of you know something I don’t, you better start showing some modicum of confidence in me and some respect for what I’ve been through, or I’m leaving right now, and I’m not coming back.”

I chewed and spoke around my food. “Um, did you want any?” Tyrrik snorted. “If I do?” I chewed again, pushing the food to the side of my mouth. “I’m not sure, honestly. I was hoping you’d say no.”

“If I do this, will you trust me?” I clenched my jaw, keeping the scream of frustration inside. He was always manipulating me. “How about, for once, you give something with no strings attached?”

Being Ryn the Fearless also meant being the bigger person. I could give the win to others on occasion—I could be gracious. I took another deep breath as I trudged over the rocks like a lumbering mule. Life as a hero wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, but I could roll.

I might've narrowly missed my calling as Soap Queen of Verald, but that didn't make me an idiot.

Trees didn’t decay when properly tended to. Dyter was right. We’d walked into a civil war.

I tensed, ready to kick some Phaetyn butt into the nearest talking tree.

I didn’t bother curtseying or even inclining my head. If she could be conveniently ill, I could conveniently forget my manners. I stalked out of the chamber after Dyter without a word to anyone. To be gracious would be a lie, and I was over the lies.