Chapter 14

For several nights, Dravyn had snuck out of the modest home he shared with his family. In the three years that had passed since their escape from Castle Draconis, the D'Vaires had done their best to rebuild their lives. Thanks to Marcus's decision to wipe away their land from the map, no one bothered them, and peace was slowly settling into Dravyn's family. Both Zane and Marcus had pledged fealty to Aleksander, and His Highness had granted titles to Marcus and Noirin.

It went against draconic tradition and law to appoint a woman as a Duchess in her own right, but Aleksander paid no heed to what other dragons did. He refused to allow any formality in his household, and although he was present for every decision, he kept his distance from everyone. Aleksander no longer looked like the bedraggled man they'd found in the dungeon, but one only needed to look in his eyes to know he was far from the intrepid young Prince who had been kicked from his father's land.

Dravyn gave his cousin plenty of space and focused on building a vast garden to feed their family and still have plenty leftover to sell. Since they wanted nothing to do with dragonkind, their buyers were human. Among their new allies, they passed the word that if anyone stumbled upon any rogue dragons searching for an escape from the lawlessness and cruelty that began with Imperial Duke Bernal's rule, those men and women could find refuge with the D'Vaires.

Thus far, they had encountered none of their kind, and it pleased them. Dravyn thought immediately to write to Killian, but he had to be practical. They'd escaped with little more than the clothes on their backs and a few gold coins Zane and Marcus had pocketed. It was necessary to build a home and create a foundation for feeding themselves.

At night, as Dravyn lay on his pallet, he thought of Killian and wondered what to say to the man he'd met so long ago. As he weeded, watered, and cultivated vegetables and fruits, Dravyn rewrote a letter in his head countless times. When he finally put ink to paper, he'd gone with honesty and simplicity.

Killian the Dwyer,

Allow me to begin with an apology for any injury or worry I have caused by my long silence. It would take far too long to explain the circumstances of my life and my court on parchment, so I hope to someday stand in your presence again and tell you everything. I kept hidden the paper you gave me, and I am grateful for whatever impulse spurred me into that important action.

I know naught of magick and must confess that it causes both me and my dragon fear. However, I praise it too, for if you had not so cleverly produced this page, I would have no way to correspond with you. I have little in the way of grace or fancy words, so I will speak plainly, as it is my only choice.

Fate led me to you. I seek to honor that gift, but I understand if you prefer otherwise. Despite finding myself living now among my family, I have no confidants. I have told none of you. It is not because I feel shame. It is my fear that if I boasted of the handsome man I met a century and a half ago, any words of a matebond would be a lie, for you may be unable to excuse my reticence and may have decided to be done with me.

I suppose my purpose in writing is to beg of you a second chance…perhaps to start anew as if we have just encountered each other and not so many years ago. The truth is, I yearn to know about you, your life, and anything else you wish to share with me. In turn, I will answer whatever questions you may have for me to the best of my ability.

I am undeserving of a response. This I know. But I dream of holding something you have touched and want desperately to learn aught of you. If my silence has caused you to firmly put our meeting into a closed book of history, I cannot say I blame you. Yet if you are tempted to write, I would ask that you send me correspondence at night lest I must explain to my family members how I have made a friend like you.

Yours,

Dravyn D'Vaire

He had received no response from Killian despite working in his garden until the sun gently rose above the horizon each morn. Exhausted, Dravyn would take off flying each afternoon and curl up in a nearby cave to nap. It was such a boon to have built a strong relationship with his beast.

Dravyn's dragon had forgiven him for the lack of shifting during the long years when they had been stuck at Castle Draconis, and Dravyn thanked him daily by spreading his wings and soaring through the air. It pleased them both. Despite having a mate, his dragon remained more afraid of Killian and his magick than interested in building a relationship with the gorgeous dark-haired man.

Despite the terror rooted in his dragon's heart, Dravyn believed that if Killian wished to communicate and they had the chance to learn about one another, his beast would eventually settle. Dravyn no longer believed magick was evil, as he'd once feared. Along with the other D'Vaires, Dravyn had vast experience with maliciousness, and it had nothing to do with whether the person was human, dragon, or gifted with magick.

Wickedness was rooted in the soul, or perhaps the heart, of those tempted to follow dark desires that harmed the world around them. In Dravyn's experience, the only people he'd learned to distrust were his own kind. The D'Vaires didn't have news traveling to the wide wooden door of their home daily, but the humans spoke of the ongoing travails of anyone caught in the path of dragons preying upon villages and people alike.

Thanks to men like Bernal, the earth was scorched by a century and a half of dragon-led terror. Dravyn oft wondered how many druids had died. Should he have apologized on behalf of those horrid dragons? Was his lack of apology the reason Killian had decided not to respond? Or had too much time passed for Killian to consider granting Dravyn an opportunity to know him?

With a heavy sigh, Dravyn gave his throbbing leg a break and lay between the rows of potatoes. He propped his head on his hands as he stared up at the stars bravely shining between clusters of clouds. Maybe he did not deserve a mate. It was not as if he'd offered the world much. He was free now to expand his garden and allow it to flourish, but how precious a gift was that beyond the food on their table that his sister prepared so deliciously?

While Aleksander had made him a Duke, Dravyn knew nothing of swordplay, so he was incapable of defending anyone. Nor could he offer any counsel. What did he know about anything? Very little. His life had consisted of hardly more than servitude. And loneliness. Crushing loneliness so vast, Dravyn wondered if he lacked the ability to fill the gaping hole inside himself. Was it wrong to wish for someone at his side to talk to? A person who might share his interest in gardening? A person like Killian the Dwyer?

As if he'd summoned it, a tightly rolled scroll suddenly blocked Dravyn's view of the night sky. Too stunned to even realize he was smiling, Dravyn lifted an arm and clutched it. The paper crunched in his fist, and he relaxed his fingers so swiftly for fear of crushing it, he nearly dropped it.

Dravyn brought it to his nose and breathed deeply. It smelled of rich dirt, or was that because he rested on the ground and wished for some connection to that moment a century and a half ago when he first met Killian? In his heart was a mixture of dread and excitement. Had Killian only written to demand Dravyn stop all correspondence?

After slowly sitting up, Dravyn bowed his head and stared at the letter. Had Killian done the same upon receiving the letter from Dravyn three days past? Thanks to King Ethelin and King Bernal, Dravyn had barely lived his life, and he wanted more than to be a lonely gardener. So, he forced himself up from the ground and snuck into the house.

Careful not to make any noise so he would not wake the other D'Vaires, Dravyn slipped into his bedchamber. In the low light provided by the fireplace, he lit a candle and sat in a wooden chair he'd built himself. It was not a beautiful piece of furniture, but it was serviceable, and that was all that mattered to Dravyn.

As gently as he could, Dravyn uncurled the scroll and admired the bold handwriting slashed across the page. It was far finer than Dravyn's own hand.

Your Grace,

It was quite a surprise to find myself reading a letter from you. I confess it took some courage to read its contents and time to compose a response. I have always honored Fate; she has granted me much, so I have lived this past century and a half in a quandary. How do I respect a matebond when I receive no word from the man precariously tied to my soul?

I have no wish to burden you with the entirety of my feelings during your long silence, but I both worried and grew angry with you. You do not wish to explain your reasons in a letter. I must conclude that the story is vastly detailed or deeply troubling. Perhaps both. This world has changed much since that fateful meeting so long ago, so I must ask, are you among the dragons plaguing my people and other magickind?

Many have died, and I fear many more will lose their lives or their homes to the furious blast of dragon fire. If you have preyed upon anyone, I beg of you not to attempt to explain away your actions. There is no excuse I can find worthwhile. If you have been innocent of any such crimes, I hope you can understand my desire to ask such a direct query of your actions.

Without knowing anything about your life in these many decades, I cannot know if a matebond between us is possible. But I do not seek solitude either. I can respect your desire to keep our correspondence private, and I pray you can teach me that not all dragons are rooted in evil.

As for magick, it is such a part of me I cannot imagine being the same man without it. Fate granted me a rich bounty of abilities, and I stretch them each day by pushing myself harder. Little has brought me solace in my life beyond sorcery, so it troubles me to hear it causes you and your beast fear. I would allay it if I had the power.

Tell me, are you still a gardener? Whenever I have thought of you, I've recalled you telling me about our shared interest in the land, and I hope it is counted among the things that continue to bring you joy.

Yours,

Killian

"I should have mentioned I had terrorized no one and hadn't murdered magickind with dragon fire," Dravyn muttered, angry at himself for the oversight.

As long as he'd toiled, choosing the right words to use, he should have started off by assuring Killian he had never murdered anyone. Eager to reassure Killian and allow the druid to rest easy about his past, Dravyn dragged out some parchment he'd purchased from humans and dug out his quill and ink. He would practice his words and ensure each one was perfect before he used one of Killian's magical pages.

My next letter will not be missing vital information, he promised himself. Dravyn desired to learn more about Killian, and he would have no hope if he didn't choose his words with care. Although his dragon was antsy about the letter from a sorcerer, Dravyn sent him soothing thoughts. The extent of Killian's powers was beyond Dravyn's comprehension, but Fate had paired them. It was time to learn if that would affect his future or if Dravyn would never share his garden with another.