Page 157 of Heart of the High King
Chapter 59
Although Rafe wasn’t alone in his office, there wasn’t the normal camaraderie that his days were filled with when Aleksander was around. Worth was hunched at his laptop, muttering to himself while Brogan and Mac discussed a Council bill. Rafe had the two wolves sprawled on a bed Larissa had produced, and he was dutifully working on his database for Ellery and Chrysander. As for his mate, he’d been motionless for a week. Chander was called and hounded about a guess for how long Aleksander was going to continue to lay there, but the Arch Lich was unable to offer new insight.
Rafe wasn’t sleeping well. It was too damn odd with Aleksander so close physically, yet light-years away in terms of actually being there. The one thing Rafe had learned from the experience of trying to function by himself was that he was badly scarred from his months trapped in a mine. It was imperative that he try to heal from the betrayal of his family and find a way to put it to rest for good. To do that, he had to work through his emotions, which was overwhelming as they were suddenly bombarding him, but it was better for him to do it alone than to dump it on Aleksander. Now that his body was healed and his primary goal was simply surviving one day at a time, everything was catching up with him.
As Kendrick had pointed out, he was careless. There was an absence of any true concept of money as he’d never been trusted with funds, and every aspect of his life had been dictated by either Charlton or Sullivan. So, he was channeling his rage through swordplay and busting his ass with the sentinels while the evenings were for running. Each day he pressed himself a little further, and the wolves were at his side as he forced himself to see the truth of his centuries in Court Kestle. Rafe had quickly concluded that he’d never been comfortable in his skin, and that was something he was determined to fix.
Confused about his sexuality, afraid to upset the men he looked up to, and with the hours of his day planned for him, Rafe had simply not thought about who he was or what he wanted. His aim had been to gain the respect of Charlton and Sullivan, so he’d worked hard, and still they’d hated him. They had to or they couldn’t have hurt him the way they had once they found out his mate was male. Out of the darkness of his thoughts, Rafe saw that horribly awkward moment when he met Aleksander as a beacon of light. Fate had selected a man who Rafe would likely fail to measure up to, but he would not give him up.
Rafe was doing his best to use the love they’d built to burn away the depths of his fury, pain, and marred soul, but he understood it wouldn’t happen overnight. Although it was probably stupid not to shove it aside until his best friend was available, Rafe was tired of fighting himself. His emotions choked him while he tried to rest, and when the sun was up it only took a single word or even a smell to suck him back into the ruin of nearly everything inside him. So here he sat trying to make sense of the work the Office of the Emperor paid him for, in a mansion full of people who understood that he’d walked away from Aleksander and could not possibly believe he was truly a High King.
“Hey,” Dra’Kaedan shouted, bursting into the room, causing Rafe to jump. Mortis got to his feet and leaned against Rafe. The wolf understood that Rafe was on a knife-edge and it didn’t take much to spook him. Unlike the first few days when he first met Nox, the two four-legged sentinels rarely left Rafe alone.
“What’s up?” Brogan asked.
“Rafe, have you been in contact with Jeremiah?” Dra’Kaedan demanded with a sharpness to his voice Rafe didn’t understand.
“No, I told him I was going to take a break from dragon training until Sander wakes up,” Rafe offered quietly, petting Mortis.
“Okay, good because I was about to start yelling,” Dra’Kaedan remarked. Walking to Rafe’s desk, he handed him a small stack of papers. “Get this. Jeremiah’s shifting ceremony was this past weekend. Did he invite any of us? Nope. His dragon sounds crazy cool, and I can’t wait to see it. According to him, he’s different shades of silver, gray, black, and even a little white…he says his eyes look like glitter.”
“That sounds incredible,” Worth said.
“Court Wells doesn’t think so. Jeremiah’s filled out our sanctuary application.”
“Isn’t it a bit backward to shun someone for their scales?” Rafe asked, taking the form. “Obviously, it happens. Aleksander, for example. Even I was told my dragon wasn’t welcome, but that was hundreds of years ago.”
Dra’Kaedan scooted onto Brogan’s lap. “That’s the tip of the iceberg for Jeremiah. While he’s always been here, smiling and going on about the things he’s volunteering for, there was a deeper reason for all that. He doesn’t know who his parents are. Growing up, he was shuffled around and went through more homes than he can count. He’s never understood why they don’t like him, and he’s tried everything he can to gain the approval of the other dragons. When he decided to become a dragon trainer, it pissed everyone off. Now they’re saying he’s not a strong enough beast to continue with it.”
“It’s a person’s merit, not their color,” Worth snapped. “Did Elf not prove that?”
Everyone stared at Rafe, and he grew horribly uncomfortable but couldn’t be anything but honest. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I’d like to process this application. Jeremiah’s been to D’Vaire several times. He knows everyone. I’m sure Elf will be happy to vouch for him. The only question I have, is do we leave Jeremiah with these asshats until Aleksander wakes up, or do we move forward now?” Dra’Kaedan asked.
Rafe hated the idea of making such an important decision without Aleksander, but Dra’Kaedan had a point. Jeremiah wasn’t a candidate from nowhere. The D’Vaires had known him for years and by all accounts was well-liked. “I think…I think since this is a special case, we can go ahead with it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, though.”
Hopping up, Dra’Kaedan grinned and out of thin air produced a bowl. “Just stick your hand in there and pull out a slip of paper. We always select a random D’Vaire to assist with the process. This motley group of dukes in here aren’t supposed to be part of this, but it’s Jeremiah, so I’m bending the rules.”
“Okay,” Rafe responded. Grabbing one, he unfolded the vanilla-colored paper. “It says Macardle.”
“You could just put Mac on there,” the duke in question complained.
“I happen to like the name Macardle,” Dra’Kaedan argued. “Okay, let’s do this. We don’t have to get to know Jeremiah with phone calls since we’re familiar with him. However, we aren’t going to break rules either, so let’s see if we can check out his story. Rafe, maybe you could call King Wellsdraconis? It might help to expedite things if it’s one dragon ruler to another.”
“Uh, sure.” Rafe’s palms were sweaty as he fumbled with the pages.
Dra’Kaedan assisted him by flipping to the one he needed. “Here’s his number.”
After two rings, a curt voice said, “King Wells.”
“Your Highness, this is High King Rafe D’Vairedraconis. I was wondering if you have a few minutes to talk.”
“No disrespect, Your Highness, but I thought your name was Aleksander.”
“That’s my mate, Your Highness.”
“Oh. I hadn’t heard. Congratulations, Your Highness,” the man said in a flat tone.
