Page 58 of Killian
Brogan’s navy gaze widened at the censure. “My apologies. I worry about our safety.”
“Killian is no stranger to the risks of exposing someone to dragon fire,” Duke Zane commented. Beyond his initial greeting, they were the first words Zane had spoken. “It was my father and the men and women who remain his loyal followers—despite his well-deserved death—that taught Killian and his Council to fear our kind. For that, Killian, you have my apology.”
Swallowing another scrumptious bite of his dinner—this one of delicately spiced meat—Killian stared into a set of black scaly irises and understood the guilt on Zane’s face.
“Allow me to give you a bit of history on the Circle of Druids,” said Killian. “Fate first created the Coven of Warlocks. The stories are murky now, but druids were born of warlock blood. Perhaps it was a sorcerer born with the same fondness for plants Dravyn and I enjoy. After we became a race of our own, Fate picked a family to lead us. The heads of that family were aided by every relative to ensure the druids were happy, had weapons to defend themselves, and wanted for nothing. But there was one couple, known as Hrodeberht and Irmengard, who believed the Dwyers had grown complacent.
“It took time, but they eventually found others who agreed. Together, they formed a rebellion. There were harsh losses on both sides. Even Hrodeberht and Irmengard lost two sons in the battle. Eventually, though, every member of the Dwyers was dead.
“Convinced they were the rightful rulers, Hrodeberht and Irmengard reveled and drank the blood of the former Dwyers to convince Fate they should lead. Within a day, the golden bands given by Fate to druidic leaders—which are displayed on my skin—grew on theirs. That didn’t stop them from consuming more blood. Fearful of being dethroned themselves, Hrodeberht and Irmengard outlawed weapons. Druids were taught to stick to their gardens and trust Hrodeberht and Irmengard or face the consequences.”
“That is vile,” Brogan remarked, his mouth curled in disgust.
“What happened to Hrodeberht and Irmengard?” Dravyn asked.
“Years passed, and the druids were on the decline. Not every druid is rich with magick, and collaboration had died, so people starved. Hrodeberht and Irmengard did not care. Their focus was on themselves and on complaining loudly about the losses they had suffered. The couple ignored their people. Two additional children were born to Hrodeberht and Irmengard. The oldest was a son they instantly feared, for it was clear he would be a formidable sorcerer one day. As the druids’ situation grew dire, they incited a merciful rebellion of their own. The only casualties were Hrodeberht and Irmengard themselves.”
“So, the son and daughter were spared?” Noirin asked. “Did Fate then pick your family to rule as the Dwyers?”
“Fate had already chosen us,” Killian said. “Hrodeberht and Irmengard were my parents. No one blames me for their misdeeds. They need not; I am not them.”
Zane smiled. “So, you will not judge me because my father was an evil murdering bastard.”
“No, for you are not him.”
“My father served Bernal,” Marcus confided. “I, too, know well what it means to have an evil parent.”
“My father happily turned me out of the house because my scales were different,” Aleksander added. “Although I was fearful in that moment, it made me a King. I do not know if I deserve such a title, but it has brought fine men and women into my life.”
“Your father also spreads the tale of your supposed curse far and wide,” Noirin groused.
“And likely had a hand in the death of your parents,” Aleksander agreed.
“Larissa and I were both told we could not be together by our families because we are two women picked as mates,” Madeline said. “None of us were blessed with remarkable bloodlines.”
“I am sorry you did not have kind parents,” Dravyn commented to Killian.
Unable to resist the temptation, Killian leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for your kindness, but Fate rewarded me with many gifts. I rarely think of Hrodeberht and Irmengard any longer. They are unworthy of my attention. My sister was a small child at their deaths. I was immensely grateful I received an invitation to join The Council. Without Saura and T’Eirick, I am not sure Aloisa would’ve grown into such a mature, wonderful person. I was overwhelmed with the responsibility of learning to lead and had no experience as a parent.”
“Aloisa and Clara were very kind to me at the dance,” Dravyn said. “They love you a great deal.”
“And I, them,” Killian replied.
“The dance sounded so lovely, though we had to squeeze details out of Dravyn,” Noirin complained. “He is so unused to speaking freely that he forgets his sister is a nosy busybody.”
“Do not worry, we do not expect an invitation to experience it for ourselves,” Aleksander said. “After everything the sorcerers have suffered because of dragons, it would be far too difficult for us to mingle among them.”
“Yes, you are dragons. But innocent ones. Your own kind has preyed upon you. We do not think you would harm us,” Killian assured the D’Vaire King and made a mental note to speak with Kaedan. In the future, Killian hoped to someday combine his life with Dravyn’s if they both agreed it was right for them. To do so, they would have to figure out a way to sort out their different living circumstances. While Killian could teleport anywhere, it would be difficult to balance seeing his mate and hisextensive duties as the druid leader and member of The Council without changes.
The D’Vaires were also hiding from dragonkind because they feared them. The Council could possibly offer the eight dragons some sense of security if they joined the government. But Killian could not offer an invitation without the agreement of Kaedan and most of the other races involved, so he did not mention any of his thoughts to his tablemates. Thinking of Kaedan had a question popping into Killian’s mind.
“Aleksander, I have a question, but if you prefer not to answer, I understand,” Killian ventured. He nearly shrank into himself as all of the D’Vaires—except their King—stared at him with either opposition or fierce curiosity. But he had suffered far too much to fear something as simple as a query, so he forged ahead. “Our Grand Warlock, Kaedan, sent missives to many dragon leaders to find out if we had any allies. It remains to be seen if any of them will grow into friends, but none of yours arrived. Each magical missive bounced immediately back to Kaedan. It is our custom to send magical missives constantly, but we cannot explain the phenomenon, as we have never experienced such a thing before.”
The room grew deathly quiet, and the D’Vaires darted glances at each other. Killian was helpless to understand.
After a few moments, Aleksander cleared his throat. “Settle yourselves. This is Dravyn’s mate. He will keep my secret.”
“Or you need not tell me if it makes you uncomfortable,” Killian instantly replied. “It is enough to know you understand why even though we do not.”
