Chapter 5

The man formerly known as Emperor Drystan Draconis lay on a comfortable bed and fought warring memories and a flood of information he did not understand. He trembled. His breath came in pants. Then a hand slipped into his. He did not need to ask who it was. Drystan would know the touch of Conley anywhere.

His fingers tightened and tears slid from his eyes as he recalled it could not be Conley. His beloved was dead. At seventeen years old, Drystan had met the love of his life at the former Emperor's annual fair. For the next three hundred and fifty-plus years, they'd spent every day together. But they were together no longer.

Drystan's shoulders shook, and his despair was too great to comprehend. Moments earlier, he'd stood across a room filled with humans and a bed still tousled from their lovemaking as someone had plunged a sword through Conley's heart. His body battered and broken beyond repair, Drystan had dragged himself to Conley's side for the last time.

He'd whispered words of love and kissed Conley's blood-splattered lips as life had leeched from him. Why was Drystan alive to relive it? How could he survive without the other half of his soul? Drystan expected his dragon to mourn along with him, but the beast was gone. Likely reunited with Conley on the opposite side of the veil separating life from death.

Why was Drystan forced to stay here and not follow? A sob escaped him, and he gasped in shock as a head landed on his chest. Tearing his eyes open, Drystan set aside the weird ramblings of his brain that spoke of a council and fairy tales of magick. To his shock, there was a man resting on him, his shoulders shaking as he wept.

Fate was a cruel bitch, for he had hair the same gorgeous chestnut brown as Conley's. Then the apparition—for he must be to resemble his mate so closely—shifted, and their eyes met. The strangeness did not end, for instead of a pair of scaly golden dragon eyes with no match for their beauty, Drystan was met with the sight of the peculiar irises caught between orange and yellow Conley had had before his first shift.

"Drys," the ghost said.

With a trembling hand, Drystan cupped his cheek. His senses were screaming at him that their soulbinding was as complete as the day they'd first bitten one another. This was Conley. Comely Conley. His beloved. "Con, w-w-what has happened?"

Someone near where Drystan lay with Conley clapped their hands.

"Come along," a woman ordered in a weepy tone. "Out in the hall. They need privacy. Drystan. Conley. We will be outside when you are ready with your questions."

Ignoring the strangers piling out of the bedchamber, Drystan cared only for Conley and his comfort.

"My love, I lost you," Drystan said. "I am so confused."

"I remember," Conley whispered, pressing his lips to Drystan's chin in a whisper-soft caress that grounded him. "You told me you loved me. That was the last thing I heard. It comforted me. I was in such pain. Such horrible pain, and I could not speak. I could not tell you the same, but know…please know, I tried."

"Think you I do not know how much you care for me? You were never shy with your affections. In the centuries we've had together, I did not question whether I held your heart."

Conley snuggled closer to him and smiled wryly. "Hmm. No, it was you that ignored me for six months while I waited anxiously for a missive from my mate."

"You deserved the silence for allowing that servant girl to take liberties with your beautiful cock."

"Drystan," Conley said, his grin fading away. "What are we now? Where are we? Who were those people? Have we yet more danger to fear?"

"I know not, but before I ponder all the strangeness in my mind and beyond this bed, I would hold you."

Rolling to the side to take Conley fully into his embrace, Drystan breathed him in and was soothed by his presence. "What is this Order of Fallen Knights, and why do I feel as if we lead them? What is The Council, and why do I know so much of it? The rulers, the peoples…the magick?"

"Is this a dream? Or is this what one experiences in the afterlife?"

"I thought our dragons would be with us even beyond the veil."

"As I did, Drys. Odd that we would find ourselves with strangers and in a bedchamber we do not recognize."

"As much as my heart yearns to hold you forever, and to bare your body to fully love you now that we are alone again, my mind will not rest."

Conley brushed his mouth with Drystan's, and he took full advantage of the invitation. He tasted him thoroughly, and the passion that had sparked between them since they were in their teens bloomed.

"I will have you inside me before we rest again," Conley vowed. "But not now. Do you feel it? These new senses? Those strangers are just on the other side of the door."

"Yes. We need answers."

Lifting his head, Conley grinned. "Your sword is there, resting against the wall. So is mine."

"At least they did not choose to disarm us."

"Give me another kiss, Drys," Conley ordered. "Then we will ask our questions and make sense of where we are."

Obliging the man he adored above everything and everyone else, Drystan did as he was told. As he held him and their lips met, Drystan's heart overflowed as it so often did whenever Conley was near.

Moments later, Conley's inquisitive nature asserted itself as he rolled over Drystan to spring off the mattress. Conley snatched his sword as Drystan shifted and slung his legs to the wooden floor. He took his weapon from his mate as he stood and once again took his hand.

"Whatever truths await us, we are together," Conley said. "I love you."

"And I you. I am ready."

◆◆◆

The door to the bedchamber swung open, and Killian didn't miss the trepidation in the eyes of the new fallen knights as they stared down the leaders of The Council with their swords in hand.

"Somehow, I know who each of you are," the taller, black-haired man said. "We have questions."

"Of course you do. Are you Drystan or Conley?" Saura asked with a kind smile.

"He is Drystan," his mate replied. "I am Conley. Who gave us the title Reverent Knight?"

"It was me," Chander responded. "Come on, let's go somewhere we can sit and satisfy your curiosity."

T'Eirick led the group up the stone stairs to the meeting room for The Council and urged the new rulers of the Order of the Fallen Knights to have seats at the small round table.

"Would you like a repast?" Saura asked. "You have slept for the past two weeks and are surely famished."

Dra'Kaedan slid his seat back and raced for the door. "I will ask Hilanore to prepare something."

The door closed behind her eldest son, and Saura rolled her eyes. "That boy will ask our dear Hilanore to give him a tray of nothing but sweets. He barely eats anything but cakes, tarts, and puddings."

"Hilanore will sneak some savory things onto the platter," Dre'Kariston assured his mother. "But we need not wait for Dra'Kaedan to begin answering your questions. Where do you wish to start?"

"What do you mean, we slept for two weeks?" Drystan asked.

"Two weeks ago, we stole your bodies from Castle Draconis," Chander replied. "It was the morning after your murders. Do you have your memory of the past?"

"Yes," Conley said, closing his eyes briefly. Killian hated that they had been unable to rob the men of the horror of the way they had died, but he was grateful the pair had not lost the memories of their lives together.

"We were told by Killian's mate, Dravyn, that your love was legendary among your people," Saura explained. "Like you were once, Dravyn is a dragon. We heeded his words and did not separate you. Your memories must be horrid, and we wish we could rid you of them, but that is beyond our abilities. As mates, the soul remembers even through death."

"We are some kind of undead?" Drystan asked.

"Yes," Chander replied. "Like my sentinels, you have been resurrected. In your case, we believed you to be skilled warriors as well as devoted mates. I emulated my sentinels as much as my abilities would allow. Like them, you are impervious to temperature extremes, have invisibility and tracking abilities, will adapt easily to weapons—though your skills can atrophy if you do not train regularly—and you can lift memories. That will aid you in solving crimes against The Council. We have put you in charge of the defense of all our people."

"Although you are a part of The Council now, you will lead your race without interference from us," Egidius added. "How many fallen knights you require and how you wish to organize things is up to you."

"We ask that you seek only Chander out for resurrections," T'Eirick stated. "He is the first Fate-chosen leader of his people, yet there are those among the necromancers seeking ways of holding onto his power. It took some negotiating, and none of the self-appointed elders who advise him would agree to anything else but a slow transfer of control. Until his thirtieth birthday, Chander cannot pass laws without their consent."

"You look hardly more than a boy," Drystan said to Chander.

Chander narrowed his eyes. "I am seventeen."

With a smile, Conley stood and settled his hands on Drystan's shoulders. "The very age Drys was at our first meeting. I was two years older and far less sheltered. Although I understand the things you are saying, I am still stuck in disbelief. Yes, my mind flows with information. Before I woke up just now, I did not even know magick existed. Now, I am overwhelmed."

"I am also worried for the dragons," Drystan commented, his mouth twisting. "How do they fare?"

Killian shook his head. "We do not know. My mate is a dragon, but our magick frightened him, and he has not sent word since the day I met him at Castle Draconis. It was the same day we encountered the news of your murders. We arrived there to beg your aid. Our Council needs protection, and we believed the dragons could help us."

"Shortly after I met Con, we went home to our separate courts. We did not speak again or exchange letters for six long months," Drystan said, glancing up at Conley, who perched himself on the arm of the new Reverent Knight's chair. A wave of envy crashed through Killian as Drystan wrapped an arm securely around Conley. His eyes sliding shut, Conley melted against Drystan, and the matching silver rings they wore on their left hands glittered in the low light of the candles. Rings were uncommon in The Council, but Killian assumed the pair had wanted them to celebrate their matebond. There was no question Dravyn had told the truth about the special bond between the couple.

"Drys deserved to wait. He acted like a beast and did not write me because he is prone to pouting," Conley commented, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Con tells fables about my supposed inclination to pout," Drystan remarked. Then the faint humor left his face. "So, you took us from the castle and resurrected us to work for you?"

"No, you do not answer to us," Saura responded. "Our Council works to aid our people, but we cooperate and negotiate things to benefit everyone. All we ask is that you serve your people with the same honor you gave the dragons."

Dra'Kaedan pushed open the door and set a platter and two tankards in front of the newly resurrected men. And, as predicted, it was far more sweet than savory.

"Have we discussed what happened in Castle Draconis yet?" Dra'Kaedan asked after accepting gratitude from Drystan and Conley, who tucked in to their meal immediately.

"No, but we know some of it," Killian reminded the future Grand Warlock. "Imperial Duke Bernal told us humans entered the castle."

"While the dragons meant to protect us stood aside and let over a hundred humans enter our bedchamber," Conley snarled. "We cut down a fair amount, but they continued to flow into the room. It was an execution designed by the very dragons who took an oath to serve us."

"I fear for the next Emperor walking into that nest of vipers," Drystan added. "We could do nothing. We were given titles by Fate, but we arrived to find literally dozens of these Dukes. Men concerned with finery instead of defense and obsessed with finding power of their own. Dragons are immortal, yet our predecessor died mysteriously following a long, unexplained illness. Annual fairs and aid for dragons were stopped. Those Dukes had emptied the coffers of everything. We were making plans, but—"

Drystan's eyes fell shut, and Killian didn't have to ask if he was reliving his last moments. Conley turned to cup Drystan's cheek, and they rested their foreheads together.

"Do you seek vengeance against them?" Egidius asked with no judgment in his voice.

"Do you see a future for this Council of ours where we have a relationship with dragons?" Conley asked. "Killian, your mate is a dragon. Surely you wish to add his people to this Council?"

"Until they can prove themselves to have some honor, this Council will have nothing to do with them," Kolsten snarled. "We will not burden ourselves with their greed and disgrace."

"Then you need not worry that we will seek the deaths of those who ended our lives," Conley assured them. "It is for the dragons to figure out. Though I will miss my beast, my fifty years at Castle Draconis were lived in a constant state of apprehension and unrest. The dragons must help themselves first. You have taught me a little of your abilities, but war helps no one. Your people will die at the mercy of dragons. I doubt you would lose in the end, but even a single life lost is not one you should be willing to spare."

"Your words are wise," Egidius said, his gaze landing on Chander briefly. "It seems our young Arch Lich did not err in deciding you should be granted another chance. Like the dragons, all our people were granted immortality from Fate. But our bodies are still vulnerable to the weapons of war."

"While yours are not," Chander replied. "Nothing will harm you but the poison I created to allow your kind to complete their matebonds. You cannot be ensnared in a trap by humans or dragons again."

"How can I ever give you the gratitude you deserve for giving me a second life with Drys?" Conley asked.

Chander shook his head, and his unruly curls bounced wildly around his boyish face. "I am fond of using my magick and was happy to rescue you. Now, I ask that you take the time to design a plan. You will need additional fallen knights, and we must provide you with a home and a place for all your people."

"But first, you are owed rest," Saura said. "You need a chance to heal. To reconcile your past. To adjust to all the information Chander has granted you with his resurrection spell. I would not have you face the future until your spirit is settled. We have placed a significant burden upon your shoulders. Please know we are aware that we ask much of you. But we see ourselves as a big family, not just a Council. You are part of that now. A part of us. We owe you a celebration. One of life and new beginnings. To honor the matebond you so rightly cherish."

"Thank you," Conley replied, his eyes misty. "Thank you for everything you have already granted us and for your understanding. I am fair overwhelmed, but I welcome this chance. I will embrace it with everything I am. So will Drys. Neither of us is known for doing anything without putting our heart into it. We respect your Council and will do whatever we can to protect you. I beg of you, is there any way we can send word to our parents of our fate? King Aeron and Queen Helen of Court Bera. They are Drys's blood but treated me as their own. They must be beside themselves with grief, and I could not bear it if we were to live without them knowing we breathe still."

"The warlocks can lift memories from you," Benton said. "Bax and I can teleport to them and inform them of your new lives."

"I will go with you," Killian insisted, eager to learn anything he could of dragons and to aid their new Reverent Knights. Killian doubted bringing two supposedly dead men to the sides of their parents would go well, so he did not suggest the men accompany them on the trip to Court Bera. But he hoped someday the family would be reunited in some fashion.

"It is far too dangerous," Baxter replied.

"No, you will keep me safe," Killian said and dared anyone to stop him from traveling to the home of the Beradraconises. "Perhaps you wish to write a letter to them? I could carry it to your parents."

"Yes, please. We will both write them," Drystan responded.

"You can keep in contact with them as long as they will keep your existence protected from dragonkind," T'Eirick stated. "Magick can enable you to correspond with them, and any of us would aid you in that endeavor."

"Thank you," Conley replied. "We will work on that and on our plans."

"It is our pleasure to help," Chander commented. "I am eager to start the resurrections."

Drystan chuckled. "Your greatest feat will be to find others with Conley's abilities with a sword. He has no match."

"You must spar with us," Baxter insisted. "Our weapon of choice is a dagger, but I should like to learn to wield a sword if you will teach us."

"Teach me to use a dagger. I will show you everything I know about swordplay," Conley promised.

Killian was pleased at the excitement on Conley's face, and the guilt of taking two people from their former home slipped away. Resurrecting the fallen knights was the right choice, and Killian had little doubt Conley and Drystan would serve their people and the Council well.

As for the dragons, Killian cared only for one. He dearly hoped it would take far less than six months to receive word from the handsome Dravyn.