Nearly as strong as the Grand Warlock, the second in command of the Coven of Warlocks was also in the room. Gavrael had learned before his arrival that the Grand Warlock and Grand Summoner were twins. The two were similar in appearance, but the Grand Summoner had hair black as night. Both men had recently had their titles restored; before that, for several hundred years, everyone believed that all warlocks had been killed by the Cwylld elven.
Every warlock had a familiar who resembled their summoner, and both of the twin’s familiars were staring at Gavrael with what appeared to be barely contained excitement. The one belonging to the Grand Summoner was literally bouncing in his seat.
There were three other women in the room, a pair of which were doing the lap-sitting thing that the Grand Warlock and Blodwen were doing. Perhaps this was some kind of ritual in their family. Gavrael could only hope he would not be expected to seat himself on someone else, nor did he want anyone to use him as a chair.
The last occupant of the room was a black-haired man whose eyes appeared glued to the floor. Gavrael was unsure what to make of him as he knew instinctively the man was a powerful dragon shifter.
From the corner of his eye, Gavrael watched the dragon king rise to his feet before speaking. “Gavrael, I am King Aleksander. Welcome to Court D’Vaire.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Gavrael responded with a nod. He wanted to know the names of the others and ask about this strange place, but Gavrael doubted it would be appropriate to ask any questions.
“No need for formalities; we don’t bother with our titles here,” Aleksander explained and Gavrael found he liked the warmness that seemed to come from this odd group’s leader.
“Thank you, Aleksander,” Gavrael said and waited to see what his purpose was. Now that he had made note of the people in the room, he finally focused on the furnishings. The room was enormous with huge windows that let in the sun and a beautiful azure sky. A large stone fireplace dominated one wall, and the stones went up a full two stories to the white ceiling. The walls were a rich cream, and littered around the room were numerous sofas and large stuffed chairs in a deep blue fabric. Piles of pillows were in a pattern Gavrael couldn’t name, but there were shades of blue, green, cream, and purple. It pleased him that there was not a speck of gray to be seen.
Light wood tables held lamps and objects of various colors. There were pictures of the rooms’ occupants on the fireplace mantle and scattered around the walls of the space. A large black object caught his eye; it was flat and thin, and Gavrael had no idea about its purpose. He could only assume it was significant due to its enormous size.
Gavrael let his attention stray back to the people lounging around the room and found them gazing at him intently. He watched as Aleksander looked to the warlock leader, and they both shrugged and gave their attention back to Gavrael. Their interaction made no sense to him, so he continued to stand in the lovely room full of color and forced his brain to memorize every detail so he could enjoy it when he returned to his drab world.
* * *
King Aleksander D’Vairedraconis did not know quite what to make of the man standing in his living room. Gavrael was dressed identically to the only other two sentinels he knew. Like them, he was covered in gray from toes to neck. The only thing that broke up the monotony were the two daggers he could barely see beneath the voluminous cloak. The green glow of the lethal weapons told Aleksander they were poisoned blades that promised instant death to whomever the sentinel felt threatened his necromancer.
The only skin Aleksander could see was of Gavrael’s hands, face, and neck. As with all of Gavrael’s kind, his skin was pale and appeared ageless. His face was unexpressive, and his brown eyes gave Aleksander no clue as to what the man was thinking. Like his eyes, his hair was brown, although it was several shades darker than his irises. Gavrael’s hair was straight and had a messy side part that left it falling on either side of his face to just below his temples.
Aleksander had watched as Gavrael took stock of both the people in the room and the objects in it, but he had said very little. He appeared content to let the silence in the room stretch and only spoke when asked something directly. King D’Vairedraconis did not know if the man was shy like his cousin Dravyn, who rarely looked at anything above his feet around strangers, or if he had some other reason for staying mute.
Gavrael’s lack of facial expression offered Aleksander no insight to the man’s thoughts either, but he was Blodwen’s sentinel, so it was his job as the head of their family to welcome him to their home. He had greeted Gavrael, but he should probably introduce him to his eclectic court.
“I could introduce you to everyone if you like,” Aleksander offered, and Gavrael’s eyes once again met his, his face still blank.
“Yes. Thank you, Aleksander.” The sentinel was fast proving to be a man of few words. Aleksander went around the room introducing Gavrael to his two dukes, Brogan and Dravyn, the twin warlocks, Dra’Kaedan and Dre’Kariston, and their familiars. Next, he pointed out Dravyn’s sister, Noirin, who cooked them all fantastic meals with lots of fresh ingredients from her brother’s vast garden. Noirin and Dravyn were also Aleksander’s cousins, and he made note of that connection to Gavrael as well.
The last dragons to be introduced were Madeline and Larissa. Like Aleksander’s cousins, the two were very talented. Madeline worked with metal and anything else she could get her hands on, and her mate Larissa was a seamstress whose favorite thing to make was colorful pajamas for everyone in the family. Aleksander wrapped up the introductions by presenting their newest family member, Trystan. Throughout the introductions, Gavrael made eye contact with each person and offered them a small nod of his head. Aleksander supposed that was his version of saying hello. The sentinels that belonged to the Arch Lich had a similar practice. It was apparent to Aleksander that either they inherently preferred not to be touched or they were taught the practice.
While his words and actions revealed nothing about what kind of person he was, Aleksander had a feeling Gavrael might loosen up after hanging out with the D’Vaires. Everyone in the house was friendly and eager to embrace any new addition to their home, and Aleksander was no different. He was looking forward to getting to know Gavrael and learning more about his race.
* * *
It pleased Gavrael to know the names of the people in the colorful room, but he had no idea what to make of how the odd group came to live in the same dragon court, nor did Aleksander shed any light as to what they might be expecting of him. Indeed, Gavrael had yet to figure out how to get any answers to his numerous and growing number of questions.
Once again, the silence in the room stretched out as Aleksander sat back down in a large blue chair. As much as Gavrael wished to stay and enjoy the visual feast of the room and get to know more about its occupants, he did not wish to overstay his welcome. Although it was later than tradition dictated, Blodwen had no target for him. Their bond was now complete, so it was time for him to go back to the compound.
“Blodwen, it is my honor to protect you. I will return as you command,” Gavrael promised while secretly hoping she would call on him to visit again so he could see more than his dreary gray room.
“You’re leaving?” Blodwen asked, and the surprise in her tone was unmistakable.
“But you can’t go,” Derwin, the bouncy warlock familiar, exclaimed.
“He can go if he wants. He isn’t a prisoner,” Renny admonished after smacking Derwin on the arm.
“But he’s supposed to stay here with us,” Derwin argued with a glare for Renny.
“He can do what he wants,” Renny shouted back.
“Guys. Calm down. We haven’t asked him to stay,” Dra’Kaedan explained and looked from the two agitated familiars to meet Gavrael’s gaze. “Blodwen, he’s your sentinel; it’s your decision.”
“Right. Uh, Gavrael?” Blodwen began and Gavrael offered her a nod to assure her she had his full attention as he met her gray eyes. He hoped she would order him to remain h
ere for a time. “We thought you should have options; you know? I mean, we don’t know what your other home is like but if you wanted to, you could stay here. What do you think?”
Gavrael thought his little cell that could hardly be called a home sucked, and he would certainly rather be here than there. However, her invitation did not give him any idea how long he was being given to enjoy this new world so he asked, “How long shall I remain here?”
“As long as you would like. We’ve prepared a room for you if you would like to stay here on a permanent or semi-permanent basis,” Aleksander explained, and Gavrael very nearly smiled. He did not care if he ever saw the inside of the compound again. Although he would miss the occasional short conversations he had with Alaric, there was little else he would mind forgoing.
“Thank you, but I have no wish to return,” Gavrael said.
“Why? What’s wrong with us?” Renny demanded, much to Gavrael’s confusion. It had been his intention to accept their invitation, and his words had somehow not conveyed that feeling, he thought in self-directed agitation.
“Maybe it’s nice where the sentinels live,” Noirin offered and Gavrael wanted to correct her assumption but was not given the opportunity as Renny immediately responded to her statement with a loud snort.
“Please, this is the coolest place ever,” Renny argued.
“You haven’t been anywhere but here and Council Headquarters,” Dra’Kaedan said.
“So what? Everyone knows I’m right. Anyway, if we’re done here, I’m going to my room. See ya Gavrael,” Renny said snottily as he sauntered out.
“Sorry, my mate has turned my familiar into a total brat by spoiling him rotten. We can certainly understand that you are happy at your home. We just wanted to get to know you better. Hopefully, you’ll be willing to visit us,” Dra’Kaedan invited from Brogan’s lap, and Gavrael wanted to punch something in frustration, but his disciplined nature would not allow it.
“My words were meant to accept your invitation—not decline it,” Gavrael explained and watched as the room filled with smiling faces.
“Fantastic. Welcome to our family, Gavrael,” Aleksander said with a broad white smile, and Dra’Kaedan offered a quick clap of his hands.
In short order, Gavrael was brought to a large room all done in light wood and white. He thought it was beautiful.
“This is your room. Don’t worry about all the white, you can decorate it however you want,” Dra’Kaedan explained as he crossed the room and revealed the bathroom attached to Gavrael’s new living space.
“We can help you,” Blodwen offered.
“Thank you; I would like that.” He was exceedingly grateful for the offer as he had absolutely no idea how to even begin to “decorate” a room. The bright white walls and bedding were a refreshing change to the dull world he had left behind. Gavrael would be happy if the room remained, but he did not want to let anyone down by refusing their assistance.
“Awesome. We can get started right away,” Blodwen promised, and Gavrael gave her a nod. Hopefully, not much was needed from him to complete the task. The room was expansive, and he was happy to have it, but he also required a place to train every day. He would be of no use to Blodwen if he allowed his talents to wither.
“I need to train each day,” Gavrael informed the group, hoping they could offer him a suitable location.
“There is plenty of room outside. It gets hot as hell sometimes, but fallen knights are impervious to temperature, so I assume you are as well,” Trystan replied, and Gavrael gave Blodwen’s “mate” his attention. He had heard the word a few times now, but he still had no idea what to make of it.
“Thank you.” Gavrael looked forward to being outside after seeing the bright blue sky. No doubt his new surroundings would inspire him to train harder.
“All righty then, let’s give Gavrael some time to relax in his new space and get some ideas of how he wants it to look. Breakfast starts at around eight a.m. Do you need us to show you where the dining room is?” Dra’Kaedan asked.
“No.” He had every intention of walking the entire expanse of both the interior and exterior of his new home and memorizing its layout. Before breakfast he would have the entire floor plan imprinted on his brain.
“Great. Uh, we’ll see you then.”
“Very well.” Gavrael watched them all file out of his new room and felt an incredible amount of gratitude that they all wished to know him better and had provided him with this gorgeous space to call his own. This day had started in a gray cell, and when those crappy peas were on his dinner tray he’d decided to put today firmly in the bad category. But, amazingly enough, it had turned into the greatest day of his life. Blodwen was revealed as his necromancer, and he relished the idea of being able to protect her.
The most unexpected event was the invitation to live in this vibrant home, and Gavrael was elated to make a life here. The future spread out before him, and Gavrael nearly gave a grin of anticipation for whatever lay ahead.
Chapter 3
It had been a long few days wondering if this stupid serum of Idris’s actually worked, but they were finally on their way back through the endless woods. The three-day stretch had given Latarian time to think about alternatives to getting the cooperation of the Cwylld through this trade. Idris would have to force his power upon her again, and she would use the harmful spells at her disposal to compel them to help.
She couldn’t outright kill them as Idris’s magic was not dark enough, and the Cwylld secret would die with them. But she could certainly cause them great harm if they proved to be difficult. Latarian thought it a good thing she had no problem at all resorting to such tactics.
“Do you see that elf yet?” Idris asked from alongside her as they walked.
“Do you not believe he would make himself known should he see us happening upon him?”
“I guess so. Yeah.”
“Then why do you persist in asking me such questions?” Latarian asked him with a side glance.
“I dunno.”
“Then perhaps you should work on keeping silent.”
“Just don’t give them my recipe, okay?” the boy pleaded.
“I will do what I must, Idris. You know we need their knowledge.” Latarian was not about to promise the boy anything nor would she allow his whining to derail her revenge.
“You there,” the elf from the other day said as he suddenly appeared before them on what could barely be called a path.
Latarian put a hand to the chest of her gown in what she thought of as her signature lavender color and cast a stern look upon the elf. “Is it necessary to scare us half to death?”
“Not at all, but I do enjoy it,” the insolent fool replied to her.
“Lead us to your chieftains.”
Not long after, they were once again amongst the crude huts the elven called home. It looked no different than it had before, but Latarian was expecting no change. As soon as they entered the smoky hut that Latarian well remembered, the chieftain stood to greet her.
“Warlock, your serum was most effective. Three women are now well-rounded with children,” the elf ruler remarked. With no inflection in his voice, the words could barely be counted as praise. Idris had told Latarian it greatly shortened the length of a pregnancy, but she was surprised it was that efficient.
“I did promise I could help you regain the strength of your tribe, but if you want more, you must aid me as well,” Latarian added and ignored Idris who was clapping at her side in his enthusiasm.
“I knew it would work,” Idris exclaimed with a big, goofy grin. Latarian silenced him with a long stare. He broke eye contact and looked at the earth beneath their feet and mumbled, “Well, I did.”
“You sought me out for the purpose of learning our secret to mute power,” the chieftain began and then handed her a rock that dwarfed her palm. It was edged in purple and milky white in the center. Within seconds she felt the cold pull of it on her weak magic, and she quickly handed i
t back to the tribe leader as he laughed. He took a worn copper box off the rough wooden table at their side and placed the strange stone inside of it.
“Copper neutralizes its effects,” he stated before handing it to her. “Take it; it is your payment for the serum. I am Chief Aniernan. This is my mate, Chieftess Taliya.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” Latarian answered in a friendly tone as she quickly stuffed the box into the large pocket of her purple cloak. “Shall we discuss how to further the needs of us both? I require more of your rocks, and I believe you have need of our serum.”
“We have a great quantity of the stones, but we must be careful to have plenty for ourselves. When we once again have great numbers of Cwylld, we will need that advantage to restore our tribe to the fierce reputation it once held. Tell me, how much of the serum do you have at the ready?” Chief Aniernan asked after taking a seat on one of the rough benches that sat on the sides of their hut. Latarian had no desire to dirty her clothing by sitting down, but when the chief waved at her to do just that, she did not feel it would be helpful to offend the man.
“We only have a little bit left,” Idris offered as he too took a seat. Latarian would have loved to smack him but settled for gripping his wrist tightly. She increased the pressure until Idris shifted on the bench and whimpered slightly.
“What the boy means is we have little made but can make whatever quantity your tribe has need of at once.”
“We will take what you have ready in exchange for one rock,” Aniernan said. “As you bring us more, we will supply you with the stones you desire.”
“All of our supply for one stone? Surely you do not think you are our only buyer? I am afraid that will not do at all,” Latarian countered. The truth was, the serum had ingredients Idris and Latarian had never heard of—let alone been able to find. Idris had explained to Latarian that his grandfather had grown a few of them and the others he had produced through the alchemy wizards were famous for. His grandson had been too young to learn what he needed to make the serum when the sorcerer had grown frail and ill. In truth, Idris had been too busy caring for an aged wizard suffering from one of the rare sicknesses that plagued magickind to learn much. The old man had been too proud to appeal to the Consilium Veneficus that ruled over the Vioric family for help, and the fool had died taking the secrets of his family with him.
Sentinel's Dagger (D'Vaire, Book 2) Page 3
