Page 88 of Killian
“You cannot discover something if inhabitants are already living there,” Drystan drawled. “If we are seriously considering relocating, we must speak with the natives directly.”
“I have no connection to any land here, so it is a simple decision for the vampyrs,” Irina said. “If we can be safe somewhere else, we owe it to ourselves and our people to consider the option of moving. Leaving land is far easier than mourning loved ones.”
“Killian, your thoughts?” Kaedan asked.
“For tens of thousands of years, we have called Europe home,” Killian stated, his gaze dropping to the stained wood beneath his hands. “I have a connection to the land. To the dirt. To the roots of the druids. I cannot know if they wish to leave, but I would be failing them as a leader if I did not ask the question and listen to their answer.”
“Tonight, we light pyres for Egidius, Jael, and everyone else lost at Castle Giles,” Kaedan said, his jaw clenching with his grief. “In the morning, gather your people. We will convene tomorrow evening to discuss this issue further.”
Heart heavy with grief and fear for what the future would hold for him, Killian nodded and rose to hug the people he’d considered his family since he was in his teens. They were as much a part of him as his title. Killian did not want to go because he already understood nothing would pry Dravyn off his land. Not now.
But he did not have the final say. His title was only worthwhile if he respected the wishes of his people and the oath he’d taken as a leader of The Council.
???
It was an act of cowardice, but Killian had spent the night without Dravyn. He’d arrived with Mac and explained the horrible events of his day. Then Killian had kissed Dravyn, ignored the confusion in his eyes, and teleported home. Pyres had roared with flames, and Killian had cried with the others mourning Egidius, Jael, and the rest of the lost souls.
The night hours he’d spent wandering his garden while Clara and Aloisa tried unsuccessfully to coax him indoors. As the first rays of sun hit the land, Killian had sent out a swarm of missives to gather the druids. There he’d discovered his fears were well-founded.
They loved their land, but the idea of safety was too tantalizing to keep them mired in villages so often preyed upon by dragons. So, as the day waned, Killian trudged to Castle Leolinnia and tasted none of the food Hilanore had prepared for the evening meal. The platters were being pulled off the tables before Killian met the eyes of anyone else in the Great Hall.
The heavy weight of grief was tangible, but so was the pity in their gazes. Killian did not have to ask what it meant. He had a mate whose family had refused to join The Council. Within hours or days, Killian would have to tell Dravyn that duty would part them further.
“Several of us have spoken throughout the day,” Kaedan said into the stillness of the room. “What I need to know now is whose population is opposed to leaving? Killian, what say the druids?”
Killian forced his lips upward, but it was likely more grimace than smile. “Safety is too tantalizing a thought to dismiss it. Egidius’s death has rattled them. Not just that he is gone, but his castle’s proximity to the rest of our homes. None of us are protected any longer.”
“I told you. It was foolish of us to stay this long,” Egann remarked with a bang of his fist.
“Although it seems as if our people agree, I doubt this was a straightforward decision for anyone,” Kaedan said. “Nothing is settled either. We must find natives and negotiate with them any possibility of us building upon new land.”
“You will find a way,” Egann remarked. “It is your duty.”
Kaedan’s lip curled, but he ignored the pompous mage. “Killian, would you care for me to pen a letter to Court D’Vaire? Perhaps a second invitation can convince them to join us on our journey.”
“Nothing for them has changed,” Killian replied. “It would be a waste of your time.”
“Killian, ithaschanged,” Drystan commented. “You are Killian the Dwyer. If we go, you cannot return to Europe. I say this not because I wish to interfere with your matebond, but because we cannot risk your life. Your mate and his family will understand that and will follow.”
Tears Killian had no hope of holding in trickled down his cheeks.
“I can only hope you are right,” Killian whispered. He was terrified of speaking with Dravyn. He would have to explain that they would both be alone again and Killian would have to teleport far from the tree he’d grown for Dravyn. Once the words were said aloud, he wasn’t sure how he would keep his heart from shattering in his chest.
“If he is wrong, Drys and Iwill speak with King Aleksander and his family,” Conley vowed. “Perhaps these olddragon Emperors can convince a King that sometimes it takes change to find true peace.”
“I will not stop you,” Killian replied, brushing the dampness from his face with an impatient hand.
“Killian, go now and speak to Dravyn,” Kaedan ordered. “The rest of us can plan our next steps without you. We will gather in the morning and fill you in on what we have discussed.”
With a nod, Killian teleported to a grand garden whose jumbled song told him Dravyn had worried the entire day about being left by himself with little explanation. Sensing his despair, the stalks of the plants bent toward Killian and, in their way, offered what compassion they could for his plight.
Dravyn noticed him, and his brow knitted. Then he raced to Killian and pulled him into his arms. Grateful for the tight warm embrace, Killian held on.
“You are unwell,” Dravyn said.
It was nearly funny. Killian could not get sick, but he had never been so unwell in his life. “We must talk.”
“Good. Tell me what is plaguing you. Your eyes…they are broken.”
