Chapter 13

1523

Castle Leolinnia

Fatigue weighed Killian down, so he'd left his relentlessly expanding garden to lounge at Castle Leolinnia. His sister and her mate had journeyed there with him but were below stairs in the Great Hall, deep in conversation with Saura. As for Killian, he sat in the solar with a perpetually scowling demonic necromancer, a pair of sentinels, the Arch Lich, and a light warlock. The sentinels were kissing deeply below an array of stained-glass windows.

"I swear I can hear their tongues," Kaedan complained with a frown for Benton and Baxter. The sentinels paid him no mind as they continued to taste each other.

"I'm surprised you can hear anything over the sound of your chewing," Chander drawled. The black faintly glowing dagger he twirled between his fingers moved so swiftly it was nearly a blur to Killian's tired eyes.

"I grow weary of the complaints about my appetite and penchant for cakes," Kaedan groused.

"Perhaps you might try eating just enough for a small warlock like yourself," Killian remarked, stretching his arms above his head to release the tension in his muscles as he shifted slightly on the nest of pillows he'd arranged to lounge on.

"Why do you constantly find it necessary to comment upon my stature?" Kaedan asked. "Surely you have noticed that every warlock has less height than your druids. I am near the very top of what can be expected of a warlock in that sense."

"Bloody hell, you are adept at lying to yourself," Chander retorted, the amusement in his pewter gaze nearly drowning out the fury and guilt rooted so deeply in his soul Killian worried he might never find happiness again. "Only your mother, her familiar, and your own stand shorter than you."

"I fear your eyesight may be failing," Kaedan countered. "Do you wish for spectacles, or should I use some magick to correct your terrible vision?"

Killian opened his mouth to tease Kaedan but gasped instead as a rolled piece of parchment created by his hand popped into view.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Baxter roared, tearing himself away from Benton and moving so swiftly Killian had no chance to grab the correspondence before the sentinel did.

"Read it," Benton ordered. "If it is a threat, we alert Drystan and Conley posthaste."

As swiftly as he could, Killian rose and forced his way over so he was less than a foot from Baxter. Unsuccessfully, he tried to retrieve the letter. Both sentinels hated anyone getting near them except each other, but Baxter stood his ground and narrowed his brown gaze at Killian.

"Move away, Killian, and allow me to perform the duties I was resurrected for," Baxter snarled.

"There is no threat," Killian retorted. "I made the paper myself, and there is only one person on this planet I gave a stack to."

A black bubble soon formed around the parchment, forcing Baxter to release it or risk losing his fingers.

"Calm yourself," Chander told his sentinels. "It is from Killian's mate."

Baxter grimaced. "My apologies, Killian. I worry about you and Kaedan as much as I fear for Chander."

"I know it well. You are a dear friend, but I have no notion of what the content of the letter may be, and I prefer to read it myself privately," Killian said, the shock of receiving anything from Dravyn settling into his beleaguered mind. After over a hundred and fifty years of silence, what could Dravyn possibly have to say? Why was he writing now? Should it make any difference to Killian that he finally had a word from his mate?

"Go on then," Kaedan urged. "Take the letter into your bedchamber here and read it. If there is aught we should discuss, return and we'll aid you however we can."

Chander released the letter from his sphere and handed it to Killian. But instead of rushing out of the solar, Killian dropped to his arse on his stack of pillows.

"I do not believe I am ready to open it," Killian murmured.

"That is understandable," Chander replied.

"Is it?" Killian asked, filled with conflicting emotions. He felt a sense of joy and excitement at hearing from Dravyn, but it was hardly a remedy for the long century and a half of loneliness and rejection. Although he'd often tried in his darkest moments to scrub his mind of the dragon so cautiously tied to his soul, Killian could not forget those deep dark green eyes and his handsome face with its beautiful sprinkling of freckles. "What would you do if you found yourself in my shoes?"

"You do not wear shoes," Chander answered with a smirk. "But I would hand the paper to Kaedan to burn…without reading a word."

"Rather cold," Kaedan said.

"You could destroy it yourself," Benton insisted.

"Yes, but I pride myself on being a good friend to those around me," Chander mused. "Kaedan is so enamored of fire, I dare not deprive him of an opportunity to use his magick."

"Why not ask our Magus Superus?" Baxter asked. "He is a mage of fire."

"Because the man is a pompous arse," Kaedan answered before Chander could open his mouth. "Imagine asking me to refer to ignis mages as pyris to reflect the name of his family and castle."

"You are Grand Warlock and head of The Council, but are you not required to honor the wishes of the other rulers?" Baxter asked.

Kaedan glowered. "Of course, and when they come to me with reasonable requests, I am most amenable. However, I daresay I would be failing in my duty if I set aside thousands of years of tradition to indulge a man far too enamored of himself by changing it as he wishes. The day I have a hoard of angry mages at my castle gates demanding I change them from ignis to pyris, I will consider the demand more worthy of my time. But we can discuss Egann and his delusions later. Killian, what will you do?"

"I know not," Killian murmured, staring at his name carefully scrawled across the parchment in what he assumed was Dravyn's hand. "He is my mate. The other half of my soul. And yet…"

"And yet, he has ignored you," Chander remarked.

"Why would you be so willing to throw away the other half of your soul?" Kaedan asked Chander. "I do not judge you, Killian. There is much to consider, but Chand, you have yet to meet your mate."

"I beg Fate to leave me be," Chander stated emphatically. "My life is not an easy one. I can care for myself. Have I not spent the last century and a half learning to fight and harnessing my magick to protect myself and destroy anyone in my path? But who else would be drawn to such extremes? No, a man in my life would be a target for the cruel wretches who curse me for my demonic blood or seethe with jealousy that I have a title they covet. I am better off alone."

"We are here to protect you and your mate too," Baxter insisted.

"What you need is a sentinel for a mate," Benton added.

Chander laughed caustically. "Where would I meet another sentinel? No necromancer wishes to even hear the word. Not that I wish for a sentinel in any event. While I love you both, you are far too sure of yourselves and follow me everywhere. I do not need a third man in my life telling me how to live it or insisting he remain at my side to ensure my safety. A mate like that would not do for me at all. I answer only to my people."

"It need not be like that young man," Killian replied quietly.

Closing his eyes, Chander's breath escaped him in a huff. "What crime did that man commit? I will tell you. He met me and shared my interest in a night together. I bid him to go into my castle and await me in my chamber. Whether he was famished or tempted by the meal left upon the table in there, he helped himself heartily. When I found him, he was dead. I had to look into the eyes of his parents and explain that it was my fault. I knew better than to be in that castle. I should have run from anyone who had a spark of interest in me. That is what I know. If I had taken matters into my own hands and emptied my ballocks alone, that man would still live."

"Chand, you cannot hold yourself responsible for the evil of others," Killian told him, resting the parchment on his lap to focus on the troubled gaze of his dear friend.

"Listen to Killian, he would not tell you untruths," Kaedan insisted.

"What of you?" Chander scoffed at the Grand Warlock. "You have not taken a lover in far too many years to count either. Do not judge me for my restraint. You do the same."

"Our reasons are vastly different," Kaedan muttered. "I wish for a mate. One who understands me and will share the burden of my title perhaps. A warlock would do fine for me. To be honest, anyone would do fine for me unless he was a dragon. I will not tie myself to anyone lacking in honor or with no respect for the value of life."

"You speak too broadly," Chander said. "Killian's mate is a dragon."

"If Fate has any mercy, we will learn that he is not among those that prey upon our people," Kaedan answered.

"How would I know if he was among those who have murdered our people?" Killian asked, his eyes squeezing shut as he contemplated the horror of learning that Dravyn's beast had been responsible for any of the burned villages they still regularly found.

"You will learn nothing if you do not open the letter," Kaedan commented softly.

"While I rarely agree with Kaedan," Chander said, grinning at the Grand Warlock as he lied, "I believe you cannot gain any answers if you leave it unopened."

The pair sparred, but they shared plenty of the same motivations and philosophies. As did Killian. It was one of the reasons their Council functioned so well.

"You told me to set it afire," Killian retorted.

"If it were me, I would. But I am not you. And you, thankfully, are not me. I know you think of him often. Despite the time that has passed, I believe you are curious about why Fate put you together."

"I suppose I need to think a bit prior to glancing at his words," Killian said. Although he was curious, he was afraid too. Had Dravyn written just to tell him they could never be together? Then again, could he consider a future with a man so eager to ignore him for a century and a half? Killian would have answered no that morning upon waking after a scant few hours of sleep. But he found himself lost once he laid eyes on his name in Dravyn's hand.

All his life, he'd been taught to obey Fate. His title and the rewarding role of caring for his people kept Killian's soul and heart nourished. That was because of her bounty. Could he be so careless as to dismiss Dravyn as a mistake without ever considering that there may be a genuine reason he had waited so long to write?

"No sensible person would judge you for your desire to think about it before you read it," Kaedan said.

"While you think on it, perhaps we could return to the question of why Kaedan does not wish a man to touch his rod?" Baxter asked.

"I did not say I preferred a man to keep his distance," Kaedan snapped. "What I grew weary of—and the reason I distanced myself from the idea of finding another lover—is the burden of being Grand Warlock."

"Plenty of people around us have titles and seek the company of others," Chander drawled, his concerned gaze still resting on Killian's face.

Forcing himself to set the scroll on his lap, Killian decided he would wait until nightfall, then read it. To distract himself from whatever life-shattering contents it might hold, he turned to Kaedan.

"Chand is right. You seek to make excuses so you need not make yourself vulnerable to anyone."

"That is not the truth," Kaedan snarled. "If you must seek knowledge of my private affairs, I will tell you why I prefer the quiet of my chamber at night. It has been an age since any man has assumed that I might wish to have a say in lovemaking. No, they assume that I, as the Grand Warlock, want to bugger them. It is my own arse begging for a man. I do not wish to have another fool writhing beneath me while I stay unfulfilled."

Killian curled his lips in to hold in his laughter at Kaedan's angry face, but he lost his battle with hilarity when Chander's chuckles filled the solar.

"Present yourself arse up next time," Chander retorted through guffaws.

Kaedan hopped to his feet and propped his hands on his hips. "Do you think I did not already try that? Damn and blast, Chand, why must you share my preference for being buggered? We could see to each other without worry."

Chander laughed harder. "Blame Fate. If she had not put Dravyn in Killian's path, we could both have a Dwyer seeing to our needs."

With a roll of his eyes, Killian shoved aside the unfamiliar sensation of nagging guilt at ignoring Dravyn's letter, even if it was only for a few hours. "I would not bed either of you. Too headstrong by far. I have no wish to be ordered around as I'm taking a man."

Grabbing a small cake from a tray, Kaedan lifted it and smiled. "I will not apologize for being headstrong."

"Neither shall I," Chander added.

"Good for you both, I already have much concern for your mates. Fate needs to take her time to match you. You need an opportunity to be shown the errors of your ways."

"While I shall think about what words to use as I compose a letter to your Dravyn in case you should decide to pick up a correspondence with the man," Kaedan replied. "He needs to be warned about what he is taking on."

Unsure of everything regarding Dravyn and how to settle his soul after receiving the unopened letter, Killian shook his head at his friend and did not bother to offer a response. The future of his matebond was no more certain today than at any other point in the past century and a half.