Page 24 of Killian
“I will accompany you to Castle Leolinnia until Drys sends over our fallen knights,” Conley said.
“Step close, everyone, and I will teleport us,” Aloisa encouraged with a wave of her arm.
Killian swallowed thickly and hardly knew where to start in sorting his emotions. He scooped Chander’s still form from the hard floor and thanked Fate that his friend had survived.It was a lesson too for Killian to grow his magick. If he were any less of a sorcerer, he would have been unable to contain the sentinels. Their instincts would have prevented anyone from rescuing Chander. The Council had much to do to protect themselves, and Killian would be damned if he did not play his own part.
Chapter 9
1385
Castle Draconis
Awinter wind whipped through Dravyn’s tattered clothing, but he’d grown unaffected by such uncontrollable things. As ever, he was in the garden and guards were chortling nearby as he went about his tasks. The ground was nearly frozen, but he hacked away at dirt clods to prepare the land for seeds. Although he would plant nothing yet, staying busy was a necessity, and his tools were old and rusted, making his tasks difficult.
Dravyn could not remember the last time he’d spoken to another living soul. The guards no longer bothered him much. At the start, they were enamored with making him suffer. Dravyn had offered them little opportunity to find fault with him, and they had soon tired of their games. Now, they often arrived in cheerful moods but grew sour as the chilly air settled in their bones.
The guards would have preferred the warmth of fire, but it was only allowed at mealtimes to cook what meager things they brought for Dravyn to consume. It did not matter how old the meat was or how many rocks had found their way into thebread dough, Dravyn ate every bit to keep up his strength. To pass the hours, he allowed his mind to wander far from the pitiful garden he tended.
Sorcerers terrified Dravyn and his dragon, but he could not help but think about the handsome one who had smiled at him years ago. Was the druid still waiting for a letter from him? Perhaps one day Dravyn would find the bravery to dig up some of the paper beneath the bench and pen him something.
What would he write?
Please remember me.
Across the garden, the guards snapped to attention as Duke Zane Draconis stalked toward them. It was unheard of for a drakeling to carry such a title, but since His Grace’s father had proclaimed himself ruler of the dragons, Bernal had granted his only child the honor. Dravyn had never spoken with Duke Zane, and he wondered what the man was doing outside.
Duke Zane wore a thick cloak heavily embroidered in gold, and the clothing beneath the heavy garment was no less opulent. Like his father, he wore a thin coronet, so no one would forget the titles the two men carried. From what brief whispers reached Dravyn’s ears, he knew not every dragon King was loyal to the Imperial Duke.
Infighting happened regularly, and of course, Imperial Bernal often repeated his order that every sorcerer be cut down where they stood.
“Leave us,” Duke Zane ordered.
Dravyn glanced up at the dismissal and wondered where he was supposed to go since his ankle was still raw and encircled with a manacle. But it was not him Duke Zane was addressing. Without a word, the guards rushed toward the castle and the warmth it provided.
Head bowed again, Dravyn returned to his task of breaking up the nearly frozen ground. He’d learned years agothat he was never to look a titled dragon in the eye. That precious and brief time when he’d served as a Duke to King Aleksander seemed a lifetime ago. An ache swept through his heart at the thought of his imprisoned cousin. What horrors had Aleksander experienced, and was he even now being coerced to submit to a beating?
Dravyn blew out an unsteady breath and forced himself to set the subject of the D’Vaires aside. It was awful to be so selfish and not think of them constantly, but the sadness was too great a burden for him to bear. He could do nothing about the hatred boiling through him. The Imperial Duke and his ilk were monsters who lacked any sense of honor.
The Imperial Duke’s son grabbed some firewood from the paltry pile nearby and busied himself with building a fire. Irritation made Dravyn scowl. Already he had barely enough resources to cook with, and now Duke Zane was helping himself to Dravyn’s firewood to fight off the chill. No one had invited him out of the castle, and Dravyn hated the thought of eating his tasteless food uncooked.
Once Zane had a fire roaring, he startled Dravyn by ignoring the finery of his clothing and sitting on the ground close to where Dravyn was squatting.
“Your Grace, I have dismissed the guards,” Duke Zane said. “Have a rest, won’t you?”
Confused, Dravyn’s hands stilled, but he did not respond or switch positions.
“For what it is worth, I am sorry, Your Grace. My father…I know not what motivates him other than a lust for power. I am here to offer whatever aid I can.”
Dravyn nearly scoffed. If Duke Zane was so intent on helping, why had he used so much of Dravyn’s firewood?
As if reading his mind, Duke Zane said, “You have not enough wood, Your Grace. I can remedy that, and no one willquestion my orders. You have survived winter out here before, but I will argue that I fear the cold will kill you. Would you care for tidings about the other D’Vaires? I grew bold enough to meet you here after successfully getting a better chamber for Larissa. Yesterday, I snuck her out of the castle to visit her mate. They had not seen each other in years. I wish I could have brought Madeline back with us, but I will arrange another meeting for them. I must.”
Daring to sneak a glance at Duke Zane, Dravyn wondered if the furrow of his brow was because he genuinely cared about the separation of the women or if he was luring him into some trap.
“You have no reason to trust me, Your Grace,” Duke Zane remarked, shoving a lock of brown hair off the thick cloak likely sewn by Larissa’s talented fingers. “I understand your reservation in speaking with me. My father does not know I am here. In fact, he is not at the castle just now. He is involved in another skirmish with a King unwilling to accept him as ruler of the dragons. Those Kings are growing in number. I have wished for an all-out rebellion, but it has yet to come to pass.”
“Your Grace, why do you speak to me as if I still have a title?” Dravyn whispered without looking up.
“Because a King gave you that title, Your Grace,” Duke Zane growled. “His Highness has become a scapegoat for my father, and all blame is put on King Aleksander’s shoulders. Not even King Ethelin will vouch for his son. My father has developed a great friendship with your former King. Both dishonorable whoresons. Your title is your own, and my father lacks the right to take it from you, though he would argue otherwise.”
