Chapter 6

Dravyn's stay at Castle Draconis had become a nightmare. Word had spread quickly throughout the stronghold that Fate had cursed young King D'Vaire. Within a day, servants ran from Dravyn and the other D'Vaires, while the Dukes watched them with hate in their eyes. No one spoke to them directly, but loud whispers of their supposed misdeeds followed in their wake.

Two weeks had passed, and no new Emperor had arrived to command the thousands of dragons scattered across the land. Imperial Duke Bernal seized upon the opportunity to blame Aleksander for that as well. It was Aleksander's stay at the castle preventing Fate from choosing the ruler dragonkind desperately needed.

The D'Vaires debated leaving, but where would they go? No dragon would aid them, and the humans hated their kind—enough to have murdered the Emperors. The brief visit from the sorcerers who'd stolen the bodies of Conley and Drystan was determined to be an act of war, and Dravyn spoke to no one about his connection to Killian the Dwyer.

Dragons were searching for the sorcerers to demand answers for the theft. Yet there was no funeral pyre lit for the Emperors. Their belongings were sent to Court Bera, where Emperor Drystan's parents ruled. The Dukes never mentioned the humans that had barged into the castle to commit the murders or how they got past the huge litany of guards.

As for Dravyn, he had to pretend to mourn the loss of Conley and Drystan with the D'Vaires. His wild day meeting his mate and the inexplicable sight of a necromancer granting life to the dead Emperors was a secret Dravyn easily kept. It was not as if he knew the other D'Vaires well despite the blood ties among them.

Free from their previous home, the D'Vaires could converse and often discussed their plans. Although it was difficult to stay at Castle Draconis, they wanted to speak with their new Emperor. They wanted a chance to clear their name and live without the shadow of guilt Bernal had so effectively created. So, they waited for Fate to make her move and coped with their fear and the hatred of every other person in the castle.

Nature had been Dravyn's refuge since he was four, but even walking among the flowers and plants in the small garden tended by the servants did not fully quell his dread. Or settle the conflict of finding himself tied to a sorcerer with skills that frightened him. His dragon was no less apprehensive. Neither man nor beast knew what to make of it.

The magical paper Killian the Dwyer had given Dravyn was buried beneath a stone bench in the garden. With rumors flying that Aleksander and the D'Vaires were cursed, and the open war Bernal craved against the sorcerers, Dravyn could not be caught with something crafted by a druid. It was a damning piece of evidence, and Dravyn doubted the dragons discovering his matebond would take it well.

Lost in thought about what to do regarding the stunning druid who had barged into his life, Dravyn didn't bother to glance up at the presence of someone else in the garden. It was tended to by a few diligent servants, and he assumed they had shown up to complete their duties.

A startled gasp left his lips as someone grabbed his arm in a viselike grip.

"Dravyn D'Vairedraconis?" a castle guard asked curtly. His helmet nearly obscured his black scaly eyes.

"Duke Dravyn D'Vairedraconis," Dravyn corrected softly.

Another guard cackled evilly. His nose was crooked as if it'd been broken so many times his dragon had given up mending it. "Imperial Duke Bernal has stripped you of your title. You are unworthy of the honor."

"Come with us," the first guard demanded. It was the second time in Dravyn's life someone had stripped him of his title without him being present—perhaps he was truly unworthy of such an honor.

Swallowing thickly, Dravyn gathered his courage and ignored the heavy thumping of his heart. "No. I answer to my King alone."

"Your King is being dragged to the dungeon as we speak," the crooked-nosed man growled. "We will ensure the curse is beaten from him. He will not see the light of day until the shameful blue is leeched from his hair."

After his first shift, Aleksander's previously black locks had gained a thick layer of navy at the nape of his neck to match his unique two-toned scales. Dravyn thought it was a beautiful gift from Fate.

"You have no right to imprison a King," Dravyn commented, his head bowed.

"A former King," the guard with the too-large helmet snapped. "You have no right to question us. You are a commoner. A servant. You will serve Imperial Duke Bernal just as you did King Ethelin."

Dravyn didn't bother to question how they had discovered his past. His dragon roared loudly in his head, and Dravyn struggled to free himself. With a string of curses, the second guard squeezed Dravyn's arm to aid his friend. Although Dravyn fought wildly, they unceremoniously dragged him to the edge of the garden.

Expecting to be added to the dungeon alongside Aleksander, Dravyn heard the rattle of chains. A third guard held a long black manacle. Another pair of men anchored the length of thick steel into the castle wall. Fighting with all his strength, Dravyn was no match for the guards.

His beast growled, and he tried to shift, but he could not avoid the cuff locked around his ankle.

"Tend to the garden like a dutiful servant," a guard taunted.

"You may shift once a week," another added. "If you do anything untoward, you and the other D'Vaires will face the lash."

Breathing heavily thanks to his exertions, Dravyn was pushed on his rump. He hit the dirt with a plop, and dust settled onto his clothing. It was the same hose and tunic he'd worn as he'd labored amongst his plants at his former home. Gardening brought him solace, so Dravyn did not fear for himself.

His terror was for the rest of the D'Vaires. Was Aleksander truly a prisoner now? What horrors would his cousin face at the hands of the Imperial Duke? Why had Fate not saved the dragons and picked a new ruler? What of Dravyn's sister, Noirin, and the other D'Vaires? What would happen to them? How would they escape this nightmare?

"Get up and work or you'll feel your first sting of the lash," someone shouted.

Brushing away the tears streaming down his cheeks, Dravyn forced himself to his feet. He quickly jumped to the side as both a shovel and pitchfork were hurled in his direction. Terrified for the other D'Vaires and what would become of them all, Dravyn bent to gather the sturdy tools. He was grateful he'd hidden his connection to Killian.

If these guards knew of the paper buried beneath the bench a few feet away, they would likely burn him at the stake, so convinced they were of the curse Aleksander and the D'Vaires carried. Not to mention their hostility toward magickind. Too overwhelmed with the present and scared of what the future would bring, Dravyn and his dragon could hardly worry for a druid far from the evil lands of the dragons.

◆◆◆

"Killian, you need not join us on our visit to King and Queen Bera," Baxter insisted, tugging his cloak securely around his shoulders to hide his glowing weapons.

"Bax, calm yourself," Killian replied. "I have no fear for my safety, for I shall abide by your rules and stay planted between you and Ben for the entire trip."

"Why is it necessary for you to go?" Chander asked, his pewter gaze boring into Killian. For a man of such tender years, Chander possessed incredible intelligence and curiosity, and his childhood of being passed around selfish elders had given him far too much insight into the motives of rotten people.

"I mended the wounds caused by the humans on their son and his mate," Killian answered. "I played a part in what was done to Drystan and Conley without their permission. Perhaps I can assure them that the men they love are well. Bax and Ben, you are both assassins, and they may rightly fear your presence."

"We are quite formidable," Baxter boasted while Benton rolled his blue eyes.

"There is more to the tale," Chander stated emphatically, crossing his arms.

A ghost of a smile crossed Killian's face. "It is an opportunity to gain a bit of knowledge of dragons. Something to aid me in my relationship with my mate."

"No letter has arrived?" Benton asked quietly.

"Not as yet, but it has only been a fortnight. King and Queen Beradraconis may have news from Castle Draconis and the successor to Drystan and Conley. I cannot and will not barrage them with questions in their time of grief, but they may be more willing to have speech with us after they learn that their son and his mate still live."

The door to the meeting room for The Council swung open, and the two new Reverent Knights stalked in. Saura and T'Eirick had insisted on showing them to a bedchamber and giving a quick tour of the castle they would call home until permanent arrangements could be made for them to live on their own.

"We have discussed it, and we wish to go with you," Drystan said. "They are our parents, and they deserve the right to see with their eyes that we are hale and whole."

"Your ability to teleport will not work just yet; I slowed everything down purposefully with your stasis," Chander replied. "I did not want you overwhelmed. It will take a few days for your body to catch up to everything you have gained in your resurrection spell."

"Warlocks and druids can teleport people," Conley argued. "You granted us knowledge of all your people."

"I fear the sight of you walking around when you are supposed to be dead will be a fright from which your parents may not recover," Killian commented. "Allow me to speak with them first, then I will gladly return for you."

"Thank you," Drystan said with a faint smile.

"Do you have a letter for us to carry to your family?" Benton asked.

"No," Conley replied. "We would rather speak to them in person."

"Off with you three now before Egidius runs in worried about the fate of The Council and demands we discuss the idea of traveling to a dragon court for hours to decide if it is wise," Chander remarked.

Since Dra'Kaedan had already aided Killian by lifting the memory of Drystan's childhood home, he had naught to do but focus on the image of Queen Beradraconis's solar to travel. With barely a wisp of his magick, Killian and the two hooded sentinels were in a castle teeming with dragons.

Across the room—which was lit up from the sun thanks to a multitude of brightly colored windows—a woman shrieked and stood. Her needlepoint fell to the floor with a soft thud, and she lifted a hand to her chest.

"Queen Helen?" Killian asked the tall wide-eyed woman.

She nodded as her gaze skidded to the two sentinels.

"Please accept our apologies for intruding upon your solar. I am Killian the Dwyer. I am here on behalf of The Council."

"Wait," Queen Helen said. "You are a sorcerer. Are you among the people who stole the bodies of my only children?"

Before Killian could respond, she lifted her head and shouted for her other half.

"Your Highness, please—"

That was all Killian managed. The door slammed open, and a dark-haired man resembling Drystan filled the opening with sword in hand.

"Get away from my mate," the man growled, stepping into the space and putting himself between Killian and Queen Helen.

"They are sorcerers," she told King Aeron, whose expression quickly turned darker.

"What have you done with my sons?" King Aeron demanded, lifting his sword so it rested precariously close to the front of Killian's chest.

"Shite," Killian muttered as his two companions melded into the shadows, disappearing from view. They moved so fast, Killian could barely track their movements, but he easily heard the gasp from King Aeron as he was effectively disarmed.

The two sentinels stepped back so they were once again on either side of Killian, and Baxter aimed King Aeron's blade at the wooden floor.

"My apologies, Your Highness, but I cannot allow you to threaten the life of Killian the Dwyer. He is the leader of his people, and they need him," Baxter drawled. "We mean you no harm."

King Aeron swallowed thickly and pulled a now quietly crying Queen Helen into his arms. "Why are you here? Have you not done enough? The Imperial Duke has sent word of your depraved theft of my sons. In our grief, you have stolen even our ability to light their pyres properly. What use do you have of their bodies? I beg of you to think about what we have lost and give us what you so brazenly stole from Castle Draconis."

"Your Highnesses, I know dragons know naught of magick. Please allow me to explain. My companions are a mated pair like you. They go by the names Baxter and Benton. Their race is believed to be nearly fourteen hundred years old. But they were not born. Like your sons, they once died," Killian explained quietly to the weeping couple. "Yes, we took the bodies of your sons, but not because we wished to desecrate them or deepen the burden of your grief. Among our magickind are necromancers. They can breathe life into souls who have already passed beyond the veil. Your sons live again. Although they are no longer dragons, they lead a new race. A people called fallen knights. Reverent Knights Drystan and Conley Gylde have sworn to protect The Council. But before they start their duties, they wished for one thing—for you to know that their journey is not over."

"If anything…if anything at all you are saying is true…where are my sons? Prove your words," Queen Helen demanded.

"If you will grant me permission to leave and return, I will bring your sons to you," Killian vowed.

"I do not believe anyone has the power to overcome death, but I will call your bluff," King Aeron stated, his jaw flexing. "If you lack the ability to bring my sons here, do not return."

Without a word, Killian left the solar and returned to Castle Leolinnia, where the two Reverent Knights were pacing. Drystan took one look at Killian and winced.

"I take it our parents are not handling things well," Drystan drawled.

Baxter held out King Aeron's sword, and Conley snagged it from his grasp. "I will allow you to return your father's sword after he is sufficiently less interested in slaying Killian."

Conley pulled his lips in to hide his chuckle, and Killian cast his third teleportation spell of the day. The moment Killian arrived with the Reverent Knights, King Aeron fell heavily into a chair and Queen Helen laid a hand on his shoulder. She gripped it so tightly the blood left her fingers, leaving them as white as a fresh snowfall.

"Conley? Drystan? Tell me you are not mere apparitions," Queen Helen pleaded.

"Mother, we are real," Drystan replied, his blue eyes damp. "Arch Lich Chander Daray and The Council have granted us new lives far from the dragons who ensured humans could enter the castle to murder us."

Queen Helen rushed forward and embraced Conley as a shaky King Aeron made it to his feet to hug Drystan. Stepping as close as he could to the windows to give the foursome some privacy for their reunion, Killian bent his head and kept his gaze trained on the floor while the dragons and fallen knights spoke fondly to each other in soft whispers.

"Necromancy is a far more powerful magick than I gave it credit for," Benton remarked softly. "It is not just creating soldiers and defense but changing the lives of those both living and undead."

"Think you we once had relatives who grieved for us?" Baxter asked.

"It is possible, for you are men of honor," Killian said. Death was not new to him. When Killian was seventeen, his parents were murdered. But instead of crying over the loss, he had rejoiced. "Not every person deserves grief. Sometimes what they do in life is so evil, the world is far better without them."

Everyone in The Council was aware of the savage butchery Killian's parents had forced upon their own people. The former ruling family of Dwyers were ruthlessly murdered so Killian's parents could gain their titles. But Hrodeberht and Irmengard had not mourned their predecessors.

Instead, they'd drunk their blood to ensure they became the Dwyers and railed at Fate because two of their children had lost their lives in the rebellion. Then they had banned weapons and quietly dispatched anyone who dared speak against anything they did. It was something Killian could hardly explain to his baby sister, who'd been a mere four years of age at the time of their deaths.

Although Killian had been intimidated by the prospect of raising Aloisa, he was glad she was spared another moment in the presence of Hrodeberht and Irmengard.

"That Imperial Duke sent your belongings back to us," King Aeron said loudly enough for Killian to hear. "They are in our bedchamber. Anything else we will need, Helen?"

"Need for what?" Drystan asked.

"Our journey with you," Queen Helen replied.

"What?" Killian asked in surprise.

"We are going with our sons to begin our lives anew too," King Aeron said.

"You cannot," Conley argued. "Fate made you rulers of Court Bera. You are needed here. We will be fine. Our abilities will keep us from harm. It is you we will worry about, but the Emperor will keep all dragons safe."

"There is no Emperor," Queen Helen replied. "Fate has not chosen a successor, and a fortnight has passed. She has forgotten the dragons, and it is a deserved neglect. For those sworn to protect you allowed you to die instead. Without a leader, Imperial Duke Bernal had appointed himself as the head of the dragons. Our kind are headed for naught but misery."

"Our Dukes can care for the Bera dragons," King Aeron added. "They can be trusted to rule in our stead."

"I need you to understand you cannot return if you come with us today," Killian stated, his mind reeling at the news of the dragons' fate and what it could mean for his mate. Was he still at Castle Draconis? Was Dravyn safe? "The Council will not allow me to travel here at will."

"Surely we can be of service to the Reverent Knights," King Aeron insisted.

"I would have hated saying goodbye to you," Conley said, raising his hand to cover his mouth.

"Grab your things," Drystan ordered his parents. "We need to get Killian home to safety."

"I will gather what we need and speak to the Dukes," King Aeron said, rushing out of the solar.

"Dear, what kind of magick do you have?" Queen Helen asked Killian politely.

Taken aback by the question and her now-friendly demeanor, Killian shrugged. "I am a druid. We…we grow things."

"No one in The Council will ever starve with Killian's druids among us," Conley remarked. "They need not even have the correct season or the right weather to produce fruit or vegetables in seconds."

"What a useful magick. Lives depend upon a bountiful harvest. I cannot wait to learn more."

"Did Bernal send our chess set?" Drystan asked.

Queen Helen smiled. "Yes, dear. He did. Have no fear, your father will fetch it."

"Good, for Drys still requires much practice," Conley replied.

A quarter of an hour later, Killian teleported the two dragons, their sons, and the sentinels back to Castle Leolinnia. It was a shock that King and Queen Beradraconis had immediately forsaken their titles to be with their sons. Killian's own family would have never done the same. But it was a useful reminder to Killian to focus on Aloisa and to ensure she was given no reason to question her worth or how much he loved her.

Killian could not shake the cold dread wrapped around his heart. It was impossible to know if Dravyn was in danger or how he was faring. His people were now governed by the man responsible for the murders of Conley and Drystan. Only Fate knew what kind of evil would fall upon the dragons now. Killian hated the thought of his mate in danger, but even with his vast and ever-growing sorcery skills, he was powerless to aid Dravyn.