Chapter 19

With his hand nestled in Killian's, Dravyn strode forward to the growing throng of people. In the distance, Dravyn saw a wide semicircle of ornate chairs differing vastly in color and theme. People called out to Killian and offered them congratulations on their matebond but, thankfully, didn't stop to chat. Dravyn wanted to take in the experience, but he was anxious around so many people.

"I hope you don't find anyone rude," Killian said quietly. "I asked everyone to give us distance tonight. That is why I am not overwhelming you with the names of the many people we have passed and encouraging them to ask you questions. I want you to be comfortable, and thousands will be gathered tonight."

Grateful for his kindness, Dravyn smiled. "No, I thank you. They seem kind, but I am rarely around crowds. Even on the days we sell our goods in the village, it is the women in my family who do the bartering. They are most adept at it."

"Come, we can say hello to some of the other leaders before we begin. I do not know how many of them you recall from our meeting at Castle Draconis."

Besides being chained in a garden and carefully monitoring how much he allowed his gardening skills to flourish so he was not accused of consorting with a sorcerer, Dravyn had not had much to do in the last century and a half. He had often recalled the fateful day he'd met Killian. With some shame, he admitted it was not always in a positive light. Dravyn was fearful of much, and magick had seemed cruel trickery in his youth.

A somewhat familiar man stood between the two sentinels Dravyn had met that week, but for a moment, he could not place him. Then the man lifted his head, and Dravyn vividly recalled his pewter gaze. Much had changed the inquisitive teenager Dravyn had met so long ago.

Arch Lich Chander Daray had lost the fluffy hair, innocence, and boyish face imprinted on Dravyn's memory of him. Like Kaedan, Chander wore a thin coronet—only his was jet black and adorned with winged skulls. He was also dressed in a dark cloak from neck to toe.

"Your Grace, it is a pleasure to see you again," Chander said. "Please thank Her Grace for the delightful pastry. I doubt I have tasted finer."

"Please call me Dravyn, Arch Lich. I will gladly pass along your words to my sister, she will be most delighted."

"It's Chander or Chand. Did Killian explain to you that the sentinels at my side can sense lies? I tell you this not to embarrass you but because I am sick of their bellyaching about listening to a mate lie to his other half. They do not comprehend how it is none of their business, so for the sake of my sanity, could you kindly abstain from saying anything if you do not wish to speak the truth?"

Blinking at the sorcerer's directness, Dravyn wondered if it was the dragons preying on The Council that had caused Chander's boldness and the undercurrent of ire in his tone. More likely, it was Dravyn's foolishness for lying, and he was ashamed of himself. Bowing his head, Dravyn swallowed heavily and stared at the ground. What could he say in return other than an apology?

"Chand, be mindful of what you say," Killian stated, his jaw clenching.

"Yeah, Chand, what are you thinking? Dravyn does not know you well enough to understand you are always so blunt," Baxter chastised.

"Do not mind Chand; he cannot help but say what is on his mind," Benton added.

Chander sighed heavily. "My apologies. I suppose I can only excuse my frankness by explaining that my reputation usually precedes me. It is the pettiness of my sentinels I sought to complain about, not your choice to say whatever you wish."

"Tonight is a humbling you deserve," Killian said, laughter in his voice. "Word of the cranky outspoken demonic necromancer has not reached Dravyn's court. Dravyn probably believed you to be a kindly soul until the moment you opened your mouth this eve."

"Dravyn, you can do better than Killian," Chander groused.

Relieved that he had not erred as badly as he feared, Dravyn attempted a smile. "Killian explained tonight, after Baxter left us, about his ability to sense untruths. I will do better in the future if I wish to hide my feelings or opinions."

"You mean when Baxter took off in a pout because he had to curb his impulse to act like a child and spit out your lie in front of Killian?" Chander asked.

"Let us leave Dravyn to speak to the others and locate his platter so he can return it to Her Grace," Benton said. "Kaedan has no doubt devoured everything by now."

As the trio walked off, Killian leaned close to Dravyn. "I hope Chander did not offend. Although I do not wish to make excuses for him, his life has not been easy these past decades. Not only must he contend with the dragons, but his people are also split. Some rightly praise his efforts to lead them well, while the other half accuse him of all manner of nefarious things. I do not know if it is because of the rifts among the necromancers sewn by seeds of his long-dead elders or if his demonic blood is an affront to short-sighted fools, but we have lost count of the attempts on his life. Under his cloak, you will see he is armed. Chander does not even sleep without his daggers within reach, and he has two assassins at the ready."

Saddened that Chander was at the mercy of dragons and his own people, Dravyn dared squeeze Killian's warm palm in assurance. "I am sorry for what he has suffered and must continue to endure. He did not offend me. I was taken aback at first, but I understand now. In the future, I will accept his words at face value and not search for phantom insults within his speech."

"Trust me, if you step out of line with Chand, he will assuredly let you know."

Dravyn smiled. "Until I escaped Court Ethelin and Court Draconis, I often witnessed people twisting their words to manipulate others. Knowing that Chander speaks truth no matter the consequences…well, I find that a relief."

"Good, you will find much of The Council is the same way."

"Killian!" a woman shouted.

Following Killian's lead, Dravyn turned to find not one but two women racing toward them. The taller of the two was faintly familiar, and Dravyn soon realized it was because her smile reminded him of Killian's.

"Dravyn, allow me the pleasure of introducing my dear sister, Aloisa, and her mate, Clara," Killian said, pride coursing through his voice.

Aloisa reached out and took Dravyn's free hand in both of hers. "I have waited so long to meet you. For decades, I have cursed that I was but a girl when you two first laid eyes on each other. I have had to listen to the tales of others about that fateful day, and my jealousy has known no bounds. Do not take this the wrong way—for I assure you my brother has praised you highly—but you are even more handsome than he described. Is he not, Clara?"

"Yes, we are honored to meet you," Clara added, her brown gaze shy.

"The honor is mine," Dravyn managed, overwhelmed by Aloisa's exuberance.

"I've embarrassed you," Aloisa commented with a frown as she released her hold on him. "I am so sorry. From what Killian says, you are much like my Clara and uncomfortable with praise. Oh, how I wish everyone was as humble as you two. The world would be a far grander place with such kind souls in abundance."

Unsure how to respond, Dravyn's cheeks went pink as he searched for words.

"You are making it worse," Killian teased his sister and tugged on one long strand of her brown hair.

"Okay, okay, we will leave him be, but you will sit with us while Killian is working, won't you?" Aloisa asked.

Dravyn glanced at Killian, and his mate smiled. "Yes, I will feel better if he has the two of you to keep him company," Killian assured his sister.

Aloisa grinned, grabbed Clara's hand, and took off toward the crowd. "Have fun," Clara called out behind her.

"Your sister and Clara are kind," Dravyn offered, grateful he'd remembered to praise Killian's family.

"I think so too. Do not be alarmed, they are eager to know you is all."

With a quick search of his own feelings, Dravyn had to admit he wanted to know Killian's relations and friends as well. "They are your kin. I want to know them too."

Apparently pleased by the words, Killian's lips curved even further, and Dravyn's lower limbs trembled with weakness again thanks to the handsome druid.

"I am glad to hear it. Would you like to sit down? I have crafted a seat for you so you can be at my side tonight," Killian said, leading Dravyn toward two chairs that appeared to be made solely of branches and flowers. "Kaedan and Saura will begin the festivities with a few songs to encourage everyone to relax and enjoy their night. Then the true fun will begin. We will work together to ensure everyone has what they need to survive the next month. Above our heads are several layers of magick to protect everyone, so no rogue dragon will spoil our festivities. Magick is used in everything around you."

Dravyn finally calmed enough to take in his surroundings, and he noted the fires dotted around in different colors. "Why are the fires in different colors?"

"They represent the races present. Navy and gold for warlocks, black for necromancers, brownish green with gold for druids, the seven colors of wizards, and so forth," Killian explained.

A man Dravyn recognized sat next to him. Kaedan and Saura walked to the center of the semicircle of what he could only describe now as thrones. The Arch Wizard leaned closer to Dravyn and offered him a small smile.

"It is good to see you here with Killian," Egidius said. Gone was the meanness in his eyes that Dravyn distinctly recalled from 1369. It was replaced by sorrow and what had to be the heavy burden of leading with the constant threat of death hanging above their heads. "I thank you for being levelheaded when we stole the bodies of Drystan and Conley. We needed them far more than we ever realized that day. Because of you, they were not separated. It was not a lesson I forgot despite Fate not granting me my own mate. If you have a moment before the end of the night, I hope I can introduce you to my son, Jael."

"It would be my pleasure, Arch Wizard," Dravyn managed, unsure how else to respond.

"Egidius," the wizard ruler insisted. "The Council is a family. Same as your court, I believe."

The drums surged along with other instruments Dravyn couldn't name as Kaedan's voice lifted. In addition to the magick Fate had given Kaedan, she had also rewarded the warlock with a rich voice that caused raised bumps on Dravyn's arms as he sang about unrivaled courage, overcoming obstacles, and the bond between everyone present.

Saura caught Dravyn's eye, and she winked as she joined her son in the chorus. Like Kaedan, she was a pleasure to listen to, and Dravyn unconsciously smiled as people danced around the fires. Halfway through the second tune, the cloaks started to disappear, and Dravyn's gaze widened as he took in how little the sorcerers wore. A few feet away, Kaedan's cloak evaporated, and he wore nothing but a pair of breeches. They hung loosely on his hips and were secured by a wide navy sash with gilded threads. A few gold chains flowed around his waist too.

Time was lost to Dravyn as the music continued. While the pointy-eared elves, fallen knights, and sentinels wore tops, none of the other men did. The woman mostly switched out braies for skirts with high slits showing off their toned legs and little more than a cloth covering their chests. It seemed fair to Dravyn that they readily exposed as much flesh as their male counterparts, and he judged none of them for their near-nakedness, though it was a surprise to him. Dragons routinely stripped in front of each other to shift, but Dravyn preferred to take off his own clothing when he was alone.

Long after Dravyn had lost count of the number of songs, Killian moved close. "I have to go garden now," Killian whispered next to Dravyn's ear, causing a lovely shiver.

"Okay," Dravyn replied.

Killian stood and dropped his cloak. Dravyn could do nothing but stare. The druid wore green—the same deep color as Dravyn's dragon—and the beast roared in approval. Around Killian's biceps were thick gold bands, and his smile was dangerously slow as he held out his hand to Dravyn. There was no question Dravyn wanted to go wherever the man led.

Soon, Dravyn was on his feet and traipsing across the ground. People cheered as Killian passed them, but Dravyn barely noticed. His focus was on the long muscles of Killian's back and the low pants that barely covered the curve of the druid's arse.

"Dravyn," Aloisa said, spotting him. "Come and sit with us."

"I will be nearby," Killian promised, releasing Dravyn's hand. Dravyn turned toward where Killian had gone and nearly swallowed his tongue. At his feet, small seeds were already sprouting. But it wasn't Killian's magick causing Dravyn's entire body to lock in place. It was the gorgeous vines crisscrossing Killian's exposed skin. Vibrant green leaves appeared in his black hair, and a thin coronet of flowers befitting the ruler of druids bloomed before Dravyn's eyes.

Never in his life had he ever witnessed such a glorious or sensuous sight. His rod firmed, and Dravyn was so lost in his staring that he forgot to be embarrassed. Something Dravyn could only describe as magical passed between him and Killian. With Dravyn's dragon spurring him on, he took a step closer to the druid.

Killian moved like lightning and took a chunk of Dravyn's hair in his fist. His hold wasn't tight, and Dravyn loved it. He would have smiled at the pleasure, but Killian surged forward, and his lips touched Dravyn's. With no experience of kissing, Dravyn stood there helplessly, and his mouth opened. That turned out to be a wondrous thing. Killian licked his way in, and his tongue soon stroked Dravyn's.

Something unnamable swept through Dravyn, and he was conquered in that moment. Gone was any shyness or reticence about the future. For several breathless seconds, Dravyn was Killian's mate. No more. No less. It was perfect. His dragon roared with triumph. His soul glowed brighter, and his heart bloomed.

Dravyn was far from ready to stop, but Killian took a step back and stared at him.

"Thank you," Killian whispered. "I didn't expect a kiss to feel like that."

"I have not been kissed before. It is not always like that?"

"No. No, Dray, it is never like that."

Be brave, Dravyn told himself. "I should like to do it again."

"Allow me to grow a few things, and I will kiss you as long as you wish," Killian told him with a wink. The druid sauntered off, and Dravyn stood there stupidly as the gorgeous vine-covered man grew crops in the space of a minute that took Dravyn a few seasonal harvests to produce. Magick was truly wondrous. So was Killian.