Page 7 of Killian
“No,” Saura replied with a sad shake of her head. “Dra’Kaedan has been obsessed with dragons since birth. To find their Fate-chosen in such a state. Chander, you will give them a new life, yes?”
“Is this what is best for The Council?” Egidius demanded.
“Something to discuss far away from the evil in this castle,” Saura commented.
“What of the cursed dragon?” Killian asked. “Can we find him? Free him from this place? I fear he will die if they believe he was responsible for this.”
“It is so large a keep,” Jurdann said. “We know nothing of him except that he is cursed.”
“Killian, teleport us out of here,” Egidius ordered.
A prickling slid up Killian’s neck, and the heavy scent of earth filled his senses. Without a word, he strode barefoot to the slit of a window and glanced down. In a vast garden was a dark-haired man. He glanced up, and although it was too far away to make out his features, Killian was drawn to him. A voice told him to go to the shifter, and Killian never doubted nature. A teleportation spell for one took him to the garden, and as heopened his eyes, his prick grew heavy with need. The smell of freshly turned dirt grew stronger, and he smiled.
Ahead of him was his mate. He had scaly irises of a deep forest green that matched Killian’s cloak. His handsome face—dotted with endearing freckles—was startled, but no less handsome for it. Incredibly broad-shouldered, he stood several inches above Killian, and his black tresses slid forward as he bowed his head.
“I am Killian.”
“Dravyn,” the dragon shifter replied without glancing up. “I am Dravyn.”
“I cannot stay much longer here. Can I beg your trust for a moment?”
Dravyn lifted his chin, and though there was confusion in his gaze, he nodded.
“Close your eyes,” Killian ordered in a whisper so Dravyn would not grow dizzy from his magick.
Teleporting them up to Conley and Drystan’s room, Killian was unsurprised by the barrage of questions thrown at him the minute the ground was solid beneath him. Ignoring his shocked companions, Killian kept his focus locked on Dravyn.
“What did you just do?” Dravyn asked softly, unbridled fear in his gaze.
“It is a spell of teleportation. I must cast it again. We can have speech, then I will take you wherever you wish to go,” Killian replied, hoping to soothe this stranger that Fate had chosen as his perfect match. “Do I have your permission again?”
Dravyn gave another nod, but his panic had not lessened. It troubled Killian, but there was little he could do in the moment to calm the dragon shifter.
“What the f—”
Killian cut off Chander’s words by casting a spell to return their group to the Great Hall in Castle Leolinnia, where they heldtheir Council meetings. The newly slain bodies of the dragon Emperors rested on two long tables. Although Killian had to attend to the matters of governing, he wished the world would disappear long enough for him to stare at Dravyn and learn everything about him.
Chapter 3
Duke Dravyn D’Vairedraconis was terrified. So was his dragon. The last few days of his life had spiraled out of control, and he wondered if his hold on sanity had snapped. For nearly a century, Dravyn had toiled from dawn to dusk in a vast garden. Few spoke to him, and he lost himself in nature. An orphan, Dravyn did not lack for family, but he was kept far from them. Even his sister, Noirin, was a stranger, since she was ordered to work in the kitchen.
Then Dravyn had reached his hundredth birthday. Not long after that auspicious and yet unremarkable day, Dravyn had stood in a field with his sister and cousin, Prince Aleksander, as they prepared to welcome their dragons for the first time. Their leader, Boian, was Dravyn’s uncle, and although his only child had stood among the drakelings readying to change to scaly beasts, King Ethelin offered no words of comfort. Dravyn’s ruler did not utter a single condolence to a man whose son had lost his life high in the sky attempting the daunting feat of changing from man to dragon.
To Dravyn’s vast relief, he had a deep green beast—an unusual color, but one dark enough to be strong among their kind. Dravyn cared not for prestige. His celebration of thoserichly colored scales had been rooted in comfort. It was the lighter hues who struggled to survive, as the pale yellow beast who’d taken the life of one of their own could attest to.
It should have been a day of joy. But it was not. Prince Aleksander had turned into an impossibility. Instead of a single color, Aleksander was both blue and black. Boian had ordered Aleksander to return to his human form immediately and coldly cast him out of his home. Dravyn had locked eyes with the sister he knew little of and had decided in that instant he would follow Aleksander off the land of King Ethelin.
Aleksander’s best friend, Brogan, and a mated pair of female dragons called Larissa and Madeline, had also followed the young prince. Madeline and Larissa were strangers to them all, but Brogan had learned of their plight and wished to save them. King Boian was intolerant of same-sex relationships, and if the pair had stayed, Madeline and Larissa would never have been allowed to complete the bond Fate had granted them.
Although scared of the unknown, Dravyn had followed Aleksander without regret. They had nothing more than a few coins given to them by Boian’s first Duke, Drogo, and the man’s advice that they seek the Emperors for succor. Eager to oblige, they had left Court Ethelin, and Aleksander had frozen in pain.
The burning of his eyes had left behind a silver ring around his irises, proclaiming him a King by the law of Fate. D’Vairedraconis was briefly scrawled across his arm, giving them their new name. Although none of them could explain why Aleksander also had a thin circle of gold—a color normally reserved for the Emperors alone—they were pleased to shed anything connecting them to Court Ethelin.
Aleksander’s next act had been to appoint Brogan and Dravyn as his Dukes, then they’d flown to the land of Court Draconis. It was a beautiful castle with a foreboding air. They’d known not who to trust, and Aleksander had gone alone to meetwith the Emperors. Hours later, they were roused from bed to learn that those same men were now dead.
Not much later, Imperial Duke Bernal announced he believed Aleksander’s unique scales were cursed. He and his Dukes had held Aleksander responsible for the atrocity. Bernal insisted Aleksander leave. But the D’Vaires had decided to defy Bernal. Aleksander was a King, and believing in curses was for fools. If Aleksander were to be thrown off the land of Court Draconis, it would be by an Emperor.
Fate had yet to pick the replacement for Emperors Drystan and Conley, so they would await the man’s arrival. With little sleep and his head still spinning from all that had happened in his formerly quiet world, Dravyn escaped to a place that brought him comfort. At four years old, following the suspicious deaths of his parents, he was stripped of his honorary title as the son of a Duke and ordered to toil in the garden.
