Page 12 of Killian
Benton’s mouth tightened, but he stopped glaring at Chander, and his gaze met Killian’s. “Any word from your other half?”
“None at all,” Killian replied. “I should not be surprised. It was not my intention, but I fair overwhelmed the man. I suspect it will take some time for him to calm.”
“A pity,” Baxter said, his light brown eyes filled with empathy. The sentinel pair was not known for making their emotions visible, but Killian was often with them and had gained the ability to discern what little they displayed. “I hope you have a missive from him soon.”
“As do I,” Killian responded, his mind eagerly producing a picture of the beautiful dragon he’d had to leave at a castle where two prominent murders had happened. It was impossible to completely quell his anxiety for Dravyn’s safety, and he yearned for any word from the green-eyed man.
“Some tidings about the dragons would also be welcome,” Chander said, resting a hand of support on Killian’s arm. “Surely not the most important thing, but it would help us give our fallen knights some reason to set aside vengeance.”
“Yes, I have written a letter to Dravyn asking him about who Fate picked as the new dragon Emperor,” Killian said. He had written several drafts of the letter he wished to send to the shifter, but without Dravyn’s permission to send it, Killian was left poring over his own writing and constantly rewording it.
“The warlocks have scried to beg Fate to reveal the future of the dragons, but she has offered no insight,” Chander revealed. The Coven of Warlocks had the ability to use theirmagic to potentially see the past, present, and future. But they could only view what Fate wished them to know, and apparently, the goddess wanted to keep them in the dark.
“Have you asked them to scry about Dravyn?” Benton asked.
“No,” Killian replied. “Magick did not serve me well in my first meeting with Dravyn. I could hardly explain to him any news I learned, and I have no wish to dig terror further into his breast.”
“He is your mate,” Baxter stated. “He will eventually understand. Fate makes no mistakes in pairing up people. I believe that firmly.”
“Thanks for the reminder that Fate has granted me my perfect other half,” Killian said with a smile. Chander offered him a hug, but Killian did not reach out to offer the same affection to Baxter or Benton. The sentinels preferred the touch of their mate alone, and he would not insult their ways or make them uncomfortable by demanding an embrace. Baxter and Benton offered him nods and grins instead.
The door opened, and a group of four warlocks ambled through the door. Behind them was the tall form of the phoenix leader, and Killian spied the scowling visage of Egidius too.
“Jurdann will be here in a moment,” Egidius informed them, leaving the door open to allow the mage entry. “Are we ready to begin?”
“Of course,” Chander said. “I will lift their stasis, and we will explain everything.”
“Ben and I will stand between the fallen knights and their swords so no one is hurt if they react badly,” Baxter stated as he and Benton got into position.
“You mated them,” Saura exclaimed. “Such a smart idea, but we must give them all the space they require as they immediately wake with death on their minds.”
“We will offer them whatever they need,” added Dra’Kaedan, her eldest son and the future Grand Warlock. “They will usher in a new era for The Council, and we are grateful for their presence.”
“Let us hope this decision will not doom us all,” Egidius bemoaned.
Killian ignored the somber wizard and gathered his healing magic to spread a spell of calming across the room. It would aid the fallen knights and the antsy leaders who were wondering how the next hours would unfold.
If he were cruel enough to use magick against Dravyn without his permission, Killian would have bombarded him with such a spell. But he wanted no power struggle in his matebond. Someday, he and Dravyn would face each other again, and they would do it as equals. A dragon and druid who—Killian hoped—would bond over their love of gardening.
Chapter 5
The man formerly known as Emperor Drystan Draconis lay on a comfortable bed and fought warring memories and a flood of information he did not understand. He trembled. His breath came in pants. Then a hand slipped into his. He did not need to ask who it was. Drystan would know the touch of Conley anywhere.
His fingers tightened and tears slid from his eyes as he recalled it could not be Conley. His beloved was dead. At seventeen years old, Drystan had met the love of his life at the former Emperor’s annual fair. For the next three hundred and fifty-plus years, they’d spent every day together. But they were together no longer.
Drystan’s shoulders shook, and his despair was too great to comprehend. Moments earlier, he’d stood across a room filled with humans and a bed still tousled from their lovemaking as someone had plunged a sword through Conley’s heart. His body battered and broken beyond repair, Drystan had dragged himself to Conley’s side for the last time.
He’d whispered words of love and kissed Conley’s blood-splattered lips as life had leeched from him. Why was Drystan alive to relive it? How could he survive without the other halfof his soul? Drystan expected his dragon to mourn along with him, but the beast was gone. Likely reunited with Conley on the opposite side of the veil separating life from death.
Why was Drystan forced to stay here and not follow? A sob escaped him, and he gasped in shock as a head landed on his chest. Tearing his eyes open, Drystan set aside the weird ramblings of his brain that spoke of a council and fairy tales of magick. To his shock, there was a man resting on him, his shoulders shaking as he wept.
Fate was a cruel bitch, for he had hair the same gorgeous chestnut brown as Conley’s. Then the apparition—for he must be to resemble his mate so closely—shifted, and their eyes met. The strangeness did not end, for instead of a pair of scaly golden dragon eyes with no match for their beauty, Drystan was met with the sight of the peculiar irises caught between orange and yellow Conley had had before his first shift.
“Drys,” the ghost said.
With a trembling hand, Drystan cupped his cheek. His senses were screaming at him that their soulbinding was as complete as the day they’d first bitten one another. This was Conley.Comely Conley. His beloved. “Con, w-w-what has happened?”
Someone near where Drystan lay with Conley clapped their hands.
