Page 25 of Killian
Anger had deepened Duke Zane’s voice, and Dravyn desperately wanted to trust someone, but only a fool would take the word of a man whose father had forced him into chains.
“Your Grace, all I ask for is the wood that you have already used,” Dravyn dared to say. “It is a comfort I doubt I deserve, but while my dragon is fond of raw meat, I am not.”
“Then wood you shall have, Your Grace. Think about what else would aid you. I will return and offer what I can to you.”
The mysterious Duke Zane stood, and Dravyn was left alone in the garden. He moved to a section of the garden closer to the roaring fire to steal some of its heat. Returning to his task, Dravyn wondered if Duke Zane was a man of his word. A mere minute later, the guards returned, and each carried a large stack of wood.
“His Grace doesn’t want you to freeze to death,” one of the guards bit out. “Get closer to the damn fire so I don’t get punished for your stupidity in courting a chill likely to kill you.”
Creeping closer to the lovely warmth emanating from the crackling wood, Dravyn focused on the merry thought of Larissa and Madeline having a moment together after sixteen long years apart. Had it truly been that long since Dravyn had stood in this very garden and met the leader of the druids?
His life was so uneventful that if it were not for the changing of the seasons, he doubted he would even know how much time he’d lost. As he often did, Dravyn’s attention went to the bench, hiding the magical paper beneath. Did Killian crave a reunion? Both Dravyn and his dragon could not contain their fear or curiosity about such a simple query.
???
Killian strode into the Great Hall of Castle Leolinnia and found only one person already there.
“Good day, Arch Lich,” Killian said with a smile as he nabbed a seat next to Chander. “Where are your sentinels?”
“Emptying the Leolinnia food stores,” Chander mused. “Are you worried about me?”
The cocky teenager who’d dared suggest they steal two bodies from Castle Draconis was long gone thanks to the multiple attempts on Chander’s life. But it was not fear that dominated his pewter gaze; it was fury and determination. In his hand, he twirled a black dagger. He’d taken to training with his sentinels the day he’d awoken from his first poisoning and was never unarmed.
That did not stop the former elders and the cultists who followed them from preying upon the hybrid Arch Lich. Half of those elders were dead thanks to the Reverent Knights and their diligent work to protect Chander. The others were careful enough to keep their hands clean, but Killian did not trust them.
Dragons were ever eager to aid in the death of sorcerers and were easily recruited to chase the dream of ending Chander’s life. But each day it grew harder to harm Chander. Not only did he diligently train as if his life depended on it, but he was proud of his giant wings and strange dark magick. He was learning to combine the art of his undetermined side and necromancy.
A thick magical shield cocooned his body, and the sword that had nearly pierced his heart two months ago was the last weapon that would ever penetrate his skin. The magick protecting Chander was tested by his sentinels, and not even the poison flowing around their daggers could harm him. But Chander remained vulnerable to toxins in his food and drink.
Chander refused to risk the life of another by demanding a taster consume things. Instead, he rarely supped at home. Chander barely stepped foot in his own hall. It was likely why he breathed still. His people were ever his concern, and he walked through their towns when his face was not buried in a book, orhe wasn’t in a field somewhere, clashing blades with sentinels or fallen knights.
“How do you fare, Chand?” Killian asked, not liking the bitterness on Chander’s face.
“Worried I might die if I step a foot away from Bax or Ben?”
“Chand, I know you can take care of yourself.”
Chander’s lip flared up in disgust. “Yet I could not until recently, could I? If it was not for your magick and that of the Leolinnias, I would be riddled with scars. Has it really only been three years since the first attempt upon my life? It feels as if a century or two should have passed.”
“We are grateful that you continue to breathe.”
“I know it, and I am rotten for acting so foul. My dear friends are forced to drop whatever they are doing to aid me. I am grateful. You know this. But I detest watching over my shoulder. I hate the guilt that preys on my sentinels. They are not infallible, and I never expected them to be. My pursuers are crafty and place no value on life.”
“Your sentinels love you, Chand. We all do. Come stay with Aloisa and I. We so enjoy the company of you, Bax, and Ben.”
“Are you still sleeping outside in a tree?”
Killian laughed. “Yes, I find it relaxing. The vines that first appeared upon my skin three years past now reach almost to my shoulders. I have them on my legs now too…up to my knee.”
“That is because you are never out of your garden. Your love of plants disguises the loss of something we never discuss.”
Closing his eyes, Killian easily recalled the gently freckled face of the dragon tied to his soul. “There is nothing to discuss.”
“It has been sixteen years.”
“He wants nothing to do with me. Be it because of magick or something else I know not. But I will not live my life in waiting.”
“If you receive a letter tomorrow, what will you do?”
