Page 18 of Killian
Without a word, Killian left the solar and returned to Castle Leolinnia, where the two Reverent Knights were pacing. Drystan took one look at Killian and winced.
“I take it our parents are not handling things well,” Drystan drawled.
Baxter held out King Aeron’s sword, and Conley snagged it from his grasp. “I will allow you to return your father’s sword after he is sufficiently less interested in slaying Killian.”
Conley pulled his lips in to hide his chuckle, and Killian cast his third teleportation spell of the day. The moment Killian arrived with the Reverent Knights, King Aeron fell heavily into a chair and Queen Helen laid a hand on his shoulder. She gripped it so tightly the blood left her fingers, leaving them as white as a fresh snowfall.
“Conley? Drystan? Tell me you are not mere apparitions,” Queen Helen pleaded.
“Mother, we are real,” Drystan replied, his blue eyes damp. “Arch Lich Chander Daray and The Council have granted us new lives far from the dragons who ensured humans could enter the castle to murder us.”
Queen Helen rushed forward and embraced Conley as a shaky King Aeron made it to his feet to hug Drystan. Stepping as close as he could to the windows to give the foursome some privacy for their reunion, Killian bent his head and kept his gaze trained on the floor while the dragons and fallen knights spoke fondly to each other in soft whispers.
“Necromancy is a far more powerful magick than I gave it credit for,” Benton remarked softly. “It is not just creating soldiers and defense but changing the lives of those both living and undead.”
“Think you we once had relatives who grieved for us?” Baxter asked.
“It is possible, for you are men of honor,” Killian said. Death was not new to him. When Killian was seventeen, his parents were murdered. But instead of crying over the loss, he had rejoiced. “Not every person deserves grief. Sometimes what they do in life is so evil, the world is far better without them.”
Everyone in The Council was aware of the savage butchery Killian’s parents had forced upon their own people. The former ruling family of Dwyers were ruthlessly murdered so Killian’s parents could gain their titles. But Hrodeberht and Irmengard had not mourned their predecessors.
Instead, they’d drunk their blood to ensure they became the Dwyers and railed at Fate because two of their children had lost their lives in the rebellion. Then they had banned weapons and quietly dispatched anyone who dared speak against anything they did. It was something Killian could hardly explain to his baby sister, who’d been a mere four years of age at the time of their deaths.
Although Killian had been intimidated by the prospect of raising Aloisa, he was glad she was spared another moment in the presence of Hrodeberht and Irmengard.
“That Imperial Duke sent your belongings back to us,” King Aeron said loudly enough for Killian to hear. “They are in our bedchamber. Anything else we will need, Helen?”
“Need for what?” Drystan asked.
“Our journey with you,” Queen Helen replied.
“What?” Killian asked in surprise.
“We are going with our sons to begin our lives anew too,” King Aeron said.
“You cannot,” Conley argued. “Fate made you rulers of Court Bera. You are needed here. We will be fine. Our abilities will keep us from harm. It is you we will worry about, but the Emperor will keep all dragons safe.”
“There is no Emperor,” Queen Helen replied. “Fate has not chosen a successor, and a fortnight has passed. She has forgotten the dragons, and it is a deserved neglect. For those sworn to protect you allowed you to die instead. Without a leader, Imperial Duke Bernal had appointed himself as the head of the dragons. Our kind are headed for naught but misery.”
“Our Dukes can care for the Bera dragons,” King Aeron added. “They can be trusted to rule in our stead.”
“I need you to understand you cannot return if you come with us today,” Killian stated, his mind reeling at the news of the dragons’ fate and what it could mean for his mate. Was he still at Castle Draconis? Was Dravyn safe? “The Council will not allow me to travel here at will.”
“Surely we can be of service to the Reverent Knights,” King Aeron insisted.
“I would have hated saying goodbye to you,” Conley said, raising his hand to cover his mouth.
“Grab your things,” Drystan ordered his parents. “We need to get Killian home to safety.”
“I will gather what we need and speak to the Dukes,” King Aeron said, rushing out of the solar.
“Dear, what kind of magick do you have?” Queen Helen asked Killian politely.
Taken aback by the question and her now-friendly demeanor, Killian shrugged. “I am a druid. We…we grow things.”
“No one in The Council will ever starve with Killian’s druids among us,” Conley remarked. “They need not even have the correct season or the right weather to produce fruit or vegetables in seconds.”
“What a useful magick. Lives depend upon a bountiful harvest. I cannot wait to learn more.”
