Chapter 7

1382

Castle Draconis

Close to the spot where Dravyn toiled in the dirt, a pair of guards chuckled and gossiped. They were near the bench where the magical paper Killian had given him thirteen years past still lay buried. This part of the garden was forbidden to anyone but Dravyn, and in the morning's quiet, he could not miss their conversation, though he tried hard not to listen.

Nothing they said ever settled his heart. Sorcerers were blamed for nearly every problem the dragons faced. Those issues not credited to magickind were heaped upon the heads of the D'Vaires. The disappearance of King and Queen Beradraconis over a decade ago was a warning to everyone.

Those with magick could not be trusted. The Council did not bother hiding that Drystan and Conley were alive. So were Aeron and Helen. The former rulers of Court Bera had forsaken their titles to live among those with powers the dragons did not understand. Dravyn could not comprehend magick either. Was it true that Bernal and his ilk had witnessed the sorcerers twisting the minds of people like Aeron and Helen to serve them?

It was difficult for Dravyn to believe. Or perhaps he did not want to accept it as truth. Fate had handed Dravyn's soul to Killian. Would he someday pay for that by being stripped of his own thoughts and desires? It was a fear that kept him and his dragon from pining about the loss of their other half.

But there were times at night when Dravyn's body ached and his terror of the next day overcame him. To settle his soul, he would dream of a vast garden and a beautiful dark-haired man with eyes of shifting green and brown. Dravyn remembered clearly the fine-boned features of Killian's face and his humble confession of being a gardener. Was he truly? Did Fate pair them for having such a thing in common?

It hardly mattered. Dravyn was a prisoner. Fate had not granted the title of Emperor to anyone, so Bernal ruled as he saw fit. His guards were reasonably loyal and willing to spy upon Dravyn and the D'Vaires to find any infraction worthy of facing a lash. Dravyn had not been beaten after the first few months.

One crisp cool morning the castle had shaken. Dravyn soon learned that Aleksander had an ability unknown to dragonkind. As the guards had whipped him, he'd somehow gained an invisible shield that blew his tormentors back and rattled the stones of the large keep. Bernal laid the blame upon the heads of the sorcerers who'd stolen Drystan and Conley's bodies.

Although he'd ordered Aleksander tortured until he confessed a sorcerer had granted him his unnatural powers, the young King used his newfound talent to keep the men at bay. That was the only day Dravyn had left the garden. He was dragged to the dungeon where Aleksander was kept and stripped of his tunic.

But before a single lash settled against his skin, Aleksander had sacrificed himself to prevent any hurt to the men and women of Court D'Vaire. Dravyn hated to watch his cousin suffer, and he'd squeezed his eyes shut as Aleksander had gracefully knelt in the dirt to be whipped. They'd shorn off his beautiful black-and-blue locks, and he wore nothing but a dirty pair of torn pants. Somehow, Aleksander had been far more elegant than anyone else present.

Each day afterward, Dravyn's cousin had submitted to whatever punishment any D'Vaire incurred. Dravyn both loved and hated him for it. He was also in awe of him. Aleksander's kindness, nobleness, and willingness to martyr himself to spare the D'Vaires even a second of pain was almost unfathomable.

Dravyn worried for Aleksander and what it was costing him. Each day, Dravyn was goaded by chortling fools like the guards currently lounging in his garden. But he never allowed those men to break him. He was much too aware of how easily they would punish Aleksander for it. Dravyn allowed the men to spit on him, steal his tools, and force him to dig with naught but his hands, or crush his precious crops.

Their cruelness helped him. It dulled his emotions and swept away his desire to work hard. Dravyn soon learned that his ability to grow things caused the guards to whisper of sorcery. So, he had to temper his drive to tend to his plants as he'd done at Court Ethelin. He would not see Aleksander punished for it. Nor did Dravyn want to die as each sorcerer the dragons encountered did. They were cut down where they stood.

The dragons considered everyone different from them an enemy. Dravyn could attest that even their own people were easily labeled traitors. His entire court was evidence of that. His sister, Noirin, toiled in the kitchen. Madeline was aiding the blacksmith and crafting the weapons that stilled the hearts of magickind.

Bernal and his son, Zane, had unmatched finery in everything they donned thanks to Larissa's talent with a needle. Brogan was forced to attend Bernal as his squire. Life at Court Ethelin had not been perfect, but it was far better than their present circumstances. Not that they would be welcome at their old home.

King Boian Ethelindraconis visited Castle Draconis twice a year and cared not that his only son dwelled in a dungeon. He offered no plea to Bernal to release Aleksander, and Dravyn did not know if he visited his child. For Aleksander's sake, Dravyn hoped his father left him alone. The man was nearly as cruel as Bernal.

"Dravyn," a guard shouted, startling him.

Knowing better to lift his head or address the man, Dravyn instantly stood and bent his head in deference to the guard.

"It is time for your shift. Get over here so I can remove the manacle."

Dravyn trudged to the man with the heavy weight of the chain clanking as he walked. He'd long ago adjusted to the way it cut into his skin, and he barely felt the chafed raw skin anymore.

"Fly for as long as you want," the guard taunted. "But remember, if you do not return, Aleksander and the rest of the D'Vaires will die before sundown."

It was a perfect way to control the entire court. They faced slaughter if they were selfish enough to want to escape the cruelty of Court Draconis. For Dravyn, it was not a choice. He would fly just long enough to please his beast and stay in sight of the castle. No one would be hurt if he could help it.

High in the sky, his mind would wander and travel back to those dreams of a lovely gardener full of magick Dravyn could not grasp.

◆◆◆

Turmoil was not something The Council wanted, but they were swimming in it. Every sorcerer who accidentally stepped onto land the dragons had claimed was slain. Each death weighed heavily on the hearts of every Council leader, including Killian. They did not want war with the dragons. Sadly, the only reason the dragons even knew of the existence of magickind was because The Council had sought them out for protection.

Now, Killian and the people of The Council were dragon prey. Thankfully, it had not splintered The Council. The leaders had grown closer as they sought solutions to aid everyone.

The chaos was not solely rooted in external threats. Chander was poised to turn thirty and harness the full power of his title. His so-called elders were begging the public to revolt against their young leader and insist they remain as his advisors with sizable chunks of his Fate-chosen abilities handed to them. Although many necromancers were willing to put their faith in Chander, whispers of threats reached the ears of the Reverent Knights.

Drystan and Conley went far beyond two undead rescued from the clutches of the dragons. They had grown into dear friends, and Killian was grateful to have the noble men in his life. Their parents refused to be called by any title and had devoted themselves to the care of every fallen knight.

Leaders like Egidius and Jurdann had grown fearful of death and insisted Chander resurrect extra fallen knights each year. But it was foolhardy to summon hordes of men and women to protect them. The Council did not have infinite funds, and no one wanted the fallen knights to suffer from hunger or homelessness.

So, each leader invested more time and money to fattening the treasury. When Killian wasn't attending meetings with his fellow leaders, he and Aloisa were in the garden. Whether it was Fate or not, Killian's power grew twice as fast as his sister's. Dear Aloisa reveled in his successes.

His darling sister was a woman grown now, but she had no love for politics. Aloisa complained mightily on each occasion he dragged her to a conference with other leaders. Her preference was to be among their people. Or tramping through Castle Leolinnia with her dear friend, Saura. With Saura's help, Killian had raised Aloisa, and he considered his sister's poise and grace a gift straight from the Grand Summoner.

It was a title Saura would give up the following month. Kaedan and Kariston were ready to rule. They had dropped the Dra and Dre from the front of their names. Saura and T'Eirick had given their sons traditional warlock names but had added the prefixes to reflect the ancient word draca, which meant dragon.

The twins were born with an unheard-of ability—they each had a tiny dragon form. But neither Kaedan nor Kariston wanted any connection to dragonkind. When they assumed their titles in several weeks, they would not use the Fate-granted dragon symbol on their wrists to represent them. Dragons were a source of fear among sorcerers, so the soon-to-be Grand Warlock had announced that he and his people would be represented by a phoenix.

The ruler of the Eldrvalkyria was honored by the choice, and everyone in the Council had rejoiced. Both Kaedan and Kariston had already summoned their familiars—the warlocks were the only race to have a familiar who resembled them in human form. Although both Renny and Derwin had dragon forms like their summoners, they too had shied away from including it in the names they'd chosen for themselves.

Renny was never far from Kaedan's side and invested fully in aiding his warlock in ruling their people. As for Derwin, he preferred to indulge in lengthy meals and lounge with fellow familiars he'd befriended. Nothing about Kariston's future title or the prestige they'd both gain was a draw for Derwin to help him, despite Kariston's role being dominated by how to best care for familiars.

It was Saura and T'Eirick's familiars—Eldwyn and Briallen—who would act as additional advisors to Kariston. Although it was odd for a warlock and familiar not to have a strong friendship and similar interests, Kariston refused to push Derwin into making different choices. Derwin's life was his own, and Kariston supported him. Providing for and understanding each other was the message T'Eirick and Saura had preached since the start of The Council, and everyone had taken heed of their words.

Killian considered each of the leaders his friends and did not have to wonder if they would be there in times of need. The ruler of the mages, Jurdann, was the man Killian knew the least. Jurdann rarely visited anyone but Egidius. Thankfully, the wizard leader had come far from the reluctant, often chastising man who'd first signed the treaty thirteen years ago.

Over a decade of sorcerers being slain by brutish dragons had changed everyone. It was rarely discussed in Killian's presence. Each leader knew Killian had his soul matched to a dragon's and that he had not spoken to Dravyn since the first day they met.

The Council dared not trespass any more than necessary upon dragon lands, which granted them little knowledge of their tormentors. What they did know was that Imperial Duke Bernal considered himself a leader, but he was not accepted universally.

Helen and Aeron were brave enough to correspond with a few dragon rulers they had met in the past, and they had learned that each kingdom made their own choices. Some listened to Bernal and were faithful to him, while others ignored him completely. Dragons were mired in chaos.

Dravyn's court name was notorious. Killian had learned Dravyn's ruler had dual-colored scales and that he was the first dragon to be granted them. Instead of celebrating this difference, the dragons were frightened of it. They considered it a mark of evil.

Where King D'Vaire was or where his court resided was not something Aeron or Helen had discovered. It had been many years since a dragon King had returned a letter, so any news they had was ancient. Although Egidius wanted the fallen knights to spy on the dragons, there were far too few of them to spare the men and women.

There were too many dangers the people of The Council faced daily to put resources into spying. With Chander's position so precarious, his sentinels could not be asked to leave his side. No other necromancer was willing to keep a sentinel at their side. Or summon them from their prison to live elsewhere. Thanks to Lich Sentinel Alaric's decision to refuse to meet with Chander, the necromancers—already fearful of sentinels—had cut off all contact with the assassins.

It was troubling that an entire race was locked indefinitely in another realm, but Killian could do nothing to aid them. Helplessness was something Killian had unfortunately grown accustomed to in his time as a Council leader. His feeling of powerlessness did not stop when he set aside his duties and relaxed in his garden.

What had become of his mate? Where was Dravyn? Did he hate sorcerers like many other dragons? Would their next meeting be full of vitriol? Would they even have another opportunity to stand face-to-face? Killian had no choice but to keep faith. Fate had put them together for a reason, and it could not be to condemn them each to a life led alone.

Or the goddess was far more malevolent than Killian had previously believed.