Page 57 of Killian
Noirin narrowed her eyes at her brother. “Did you not tell your mate we prefer not to be formal in our home?”
“Do not grow angry with Dravyn,” Brogan said as he took a seat opposite them at the long wooden table. “I reminded Killian outside that we do not bother with royal titles.”
“I prefer to allow each person to give me permission to drop their title,” Killian replied.
“Dravyn, your mate is stubborn,” Brogan remarked without ire in his tone.
Killian chuckled, slipping into a chair next to Dravyn. “I have been getting that a lot today.”
“I am stubborn too,” Dravyn defended.
Noirin reached over and patted her brother’s hand. “That is fine. You temper yours with sweetness. Meanwhile, Brogan is both stubborn and easily irked.”
“I have a few of those in my life too,” Killian remarked, his mind immediately going to the fiery Grand Warlock, who loved as passionately as he argued.
“We are pleased you could join us,” King Aleksander said. The King with the exotic navy-and-black hair had haunted eyes, but Killian did not miss the banked fury in those dual-colored depths. It was a mixture of emotions he’d grown accustomed to in The Council as they worked hard to drag themselves constantly through one crisis after another thanks to ruthless dragons.
“The food smells incredible,” Killian replied. “Thank you for your invitation. I would addYour Highness, but I am afraid Brogan or Noirin will kick me out of the house.”
“I fear getting on Noirin’s bad side, not Brogan’s,” Duke Marcus commented wryly.
“I trust you are not saying that because she is a woman,” Madeline said with one brown brow raised.
“No, the insult was to Brogan,” Marcus replied. “He is bluster without a bite. It is difficult to upset Noirin, but her fire is generally deserved. Meanwhile, Brogan delights in losing his temper.”
“I take offense to the wordgenerally,” Noirin teased with a smile. “Name one time I yelled for no reason.”
“Please do not ask anyone to list the times Brogan has shouted for something trivial,” Larissa commented. “We will be here until morning.”
“None of you are amusing,” Brogan grumbled.
Amused at the banter, Killian bit into a piece of bread and barely stopped the moan from leaving his lips. Killian enjoyed food as much as the next person, but he could not say he’d ever taken such pleasure from a single bite. There was more magick to Court D’Vaire than just the singing garden Dravyn had cultivated.
Sad that he could not hold on to the delight resting on his tongue forever, Killian swallowed. “Noirin, I hope I do not offend when I call you a sorceress, but I have tasted nothing finer.”
The woman with the bold assessing violet gaze blushed—much as her brother did, but without the charming freckles Dravyn had gained from his time in the sun. “You need not compliment me, but you have my thanks.”
“Noirin does not think she has any rare talent in the kitchen,” Dravyn explained. “We cannot disabuse her of the notion.”
“Perhaps I would be willing to listen if you would admit that your garden grows far more generously than it should,” Noirin fired back.
“It sings,” Killian stated firmly. “That is something only the strongest druids can accomplish. We use magick along with our affection for our plants. Dravyn has done it with nothing but love. If I had not heard it with my own ears, I would have called such a thing a fabulous tale. He defies everything I have ever been taught.”
“What a fine thing,” Aleksander exclaimed with a bright smile. “We all understood how special Dravyn’s talent is, but to know he has achieved something beyond the ordinary is remarkable. Each D’Vaire that has entrusted me with their safety is such a gift. I often ask Fate how I came to be so lucky to know each of you.”
It soothed Killian to know that despite the trauma Aleksander had endured and the still-festering wounds he suffered from daily, it had not turned the man dark or bitter—at least not outwardly. There was genuine joy in his words, and Killian believed him to be sincere. Aleksander was proud of his family.
Killian had learned from his dealings within The Council and the leadership of the Leolinnias that a fine ruler understood the value of the people he served. Aleksander appeared to be of the same mind, and there was also affection for the men and women sharing his home. All around Killian, the D’Vaires praised each other, and he smiled at the beautiful blush adorning Dravyn’s cheeks.
“Is it possible for us to hear the song you speak of?” Noirin asked. “I have never noticed a melody when I venture outdoors.”
Upset again that the music was lost on dragons—especially for the man who’d encouraged his plants to know such happiness—Killian nodded. “Yes, I can use my magick to encourage their music to grow loud enough for you to hear. Perhaps after we finish this fine meal, I can allow everyone to listen to Dravyn’s garden.”
“Thank you,” Aleksander responded. “I am sure we would all love to hear it.”
“I heard it for a moment, though I assumed it was Killian’s magick alone,” Brogan commented. “He had the entire garden glowing like a beacon for every dragon to find us.”
“It was far too low a light for anyone who did not already know this place existed to find us,” Dravyn retorted. “You do not need to insult my mate or his magick.”
