Page 16 of Killian
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 wastended 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.
“DukeDravyn 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.”
“YourKingis 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 theside 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.
