Resurrection Of The Fallen

by Jessamyn Kingley

“Why would he not tell his parents he has met his other half?”

  “I can hardly be expected to answer your question, son,” his father said before patting his shoulder. “Why not take in more of the fair? I am confident you will bump into your Conley again. Your mother and I shall remain here. Should Conley return, we will keep him company until you come back.”

  “Very well,” Drystan replied before setting out to find something to drink. He would simply return to the area he first met Conley. His father was probably right and despite the large expanse of the Emperor’s grounds, he would happen upon the other drakeling again soon.

  * * *

  Drystan was on his fourth tankard of ale and his surroundings were getting a bit fuzzy. He was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other while he searched for Conley. Unsure of how much time he’d spent wandering around, he did know the man was proving to be far too elusive. Then he heard shouting from a large group of people clustered behind the food stalls.

  As tall as Drystan was, it was still impossible to see over so many heads to find out what was causing the commotion. He began shoving his way into the crowd. Curses and threats were heaped on his person but he was not in any mood to care, for he’d recognized the sound of one voice and it drew him like a lodestone. Whatever was going on, Conley was somehow involved.

  He finally elbowed his way to the front of the mob and saw Conley facing off with a giant of a man who was also an un-shifted drakeling.

  “I am no woman,” Conley yelled as he pulled his sword from its scabbard.

  Drystan rolled his eyes. Truly, it was no one’s fault Conley had such a fine face, but it was obviously going to be quite the task to keep people from remarking upon it all the time.

  “I say you are small just like a lady,” the brute shouted back before he unsheathed his weapon.

  Without hesitation, Drystan stomped into the circle to come between the two men.

  “Drystan, get the hell out of the way. I am going to run him through.”

  “Who are you? This is none of your affair,” the idiot with the sword who was not Conley said.

  “It is my affair. That’s my mate you are threatening with that sorry excuse for a sword,” Drystan countered as the crowd collectively gasped. He heard a swell of murmurs reach his ears and knew they all stemmed from the news he and Conley were both male and mates. It made no difference to him what they thought; he was happy with Fate’s choice.

  “Stay out of this, Drystan.”

  “It is unnatural for two men to lie together.”

  As soon as the words left the fool’s mouth, Drystan ripped his own sword from its resting place and in a quick flick of his wrist had the sharp tip of it pressed to the underside of the man’s chin. “It is not your place to judge what happens between us. Fate decides who lies together. Have you a problem with Fate? Do you dare defy her? Would you be willing to risk your life by coming between us?”

  The man swallowed audibly before speaking. “No. No, of course not.”

  “Apologize to my mate.”

  “My apologies.”

  “My apologies My Lord,” Drystan corrected.

  “My Lord, you have my most sincere apology,” the man said and risked a glance in Conley’s direction.

  Drystan lowered his sword and settled it back at his belt. “Begone.” The word had barely left his mouth before the man took off running. With the confrontation over, the crowd began to slowly disperse.

  “I had the situation well in hand,” Conley snarled as he returned his sword to its scabbard. Drystan was surprised by the anger in his voice.

  “You cannot fight every man who finds you comely.”

  Conley glared. “We will not continue to argue about this. I am not comely or pretty or any other ridiculous word you wish to use. I am a man and men are not those things. Besides, he was making fun of my height and not my looks.”

  “Are your parents of the same small stature?”

  “I cannot tell if you are purposely vexing me or if you are dim-witted.”

  “I am neither slow nor maliciously annoying you.”

  “You could be lying.”

  “I am in earnest, Conley. My father went to your parents’ tent to fetch you so you could dine with us. Your pater had never heard of me. Why did you not speak of your mating?”

  Conley shrugged. “The subject did not arise.”

  “It is not the sort of thing one keeps to oneself.”

  “It was good to speak again, but I must be off.”

  Drystan wasn’t going to be deterred. He grasped Conley’s wrist and began dragging him back to his parents’ tent. “We are going to dine this eve.”

  “My belly is already full.”

  “Mine is full of ale.”

  “I do not wish to be with someone who is always deep in his cups.”

  “I do not usually drink so much. I was waiting for you.”

  “We did not plan on meeting today.”

  “Because you ran yesterday before we could make such plans.”

  “I am capable of walking on my own. I do not need you to haul me behind you.”

  “If I let go you will make off again. It is almost as if you do not find me acceptable.”

  “Perhaps I abhor the thought of two men lying together like the swine you held at swordpoint.”

  “You would have made your reluctance known yesterday,” Drystan replied when they arrived at the Beradraconis tent.

  Conley shrugged. “I never considered I might have a male mate.”

  “I am not even sure what two males do together.”

  Conley’s pretty yellow-orange eyes went wide. “How many years do you have that you do not know what happens between mates?”

  “I am seventeen, and I do know what happens between mates. My father explained it yesterday, but he only spoke of a man with a woman.”

  “You have never spoken of such things with your friends? The others at your family’s keep? You’ve never come upon a couple having relations?”

  “We talk of other things. I had not yet met my other half; why would I need such knowledge?”

  “You do not have to be mated to have relations with another.”

  Drystan’s skin grew warm with rage. “Dragons wait to be matched. They do not indulge in the pleasures of the skin with anyone but the person chosen for them by Fate. Have you lain with another?” he thundered.

  Conley’s face flushed pink. “It is a tradition; it’s not a law.”

  “You will answer my question, Conley.”

  “I didn’t lie with anyone but a serving girl, she used her mouth—”

  Drystan lifted his hands and shoved Conley backward just as his father opened the flap of the tent.

  “Drystan,” he roared at his only son. “Do not ever put your hands on Conley in anger.”

  Without saying a word, Drystan stalked off. He heard his parent shouting his name as he lengthened his stride. He would have to apologize to his father later, but he didn’t care at the moment. How dare Conley allow such liberties? It was going to take some time for him to cool off and forgive him for such a transgression. The good news was, he knew his name and perhaps in several weeks—no, months—he could write him so they could resume their courtship. He could only hope now that Conley had a mate, he would keep himself chaste until they were ready to lie together. Otherwise, he’d run the man through with his sword and hope Fate gave him a better match the second time around.

  Chapter 3

  Six months before, Conley had watched Drystan stalk away after a heated exchange. He’d left the Emperor’s fair a week later without having laid eyes upon him again. In the ensuing weeks and months, he had expected to receive word from him but Conley had not. Eventually, he had girded his loins and informed his parents he had met his other half. It turned out he had been concerned for nothing; they had been unmoved by his announcement. There was no exclamation of surprise because his mate was male. Duke Manley and Duchess-mate Viveca h
ad not even commented. They had continued to consume their supper without even acknowledging Conley’s words.

  He had not let it deter him. All his life, they had offered little comfort and a great deal of neglect. Used to being ignored, he’d soon found he was unwilling to take such treatment from his own mate. Despite what Drystan may think, he did not feel he’d done anything wrong. Although he had allowed an overly-aggressive girl with spots covering much of her face take his rod into her mouth, it should not have filled Drystan with such anger.

  Draconic tradition frowned upon relations between unmated people, but it happened all too often. Conley was young, and the girl had been more than willing to bring him to an embarrassingly quick release. The only mistake he’d made was in telling Drystan about the encounter. In his defense, he’d had no way of knowing he would act so absurdly upon hearing the news. Ridiculous as the drakeling was, Fate had chosen him for Conley, and it was past time they attended to their relationship.

  Grabbing a quill, he dipped it into a vial of ink and smoothed the parchment under his hand. He wished to write to Drystan and yet, he could not fathom where to begin. Girding his loins as if for battle, he opted to keep it simple. Evidence had not proven Drystan to be a great wit, so there was little point in trying to sound like one himself.

  What he lacked in strength of mind, Drystan appeared to make up for in bravery. He’d not hesitated to involve himself in Conley’s affairs and had taken on the obnoxious oaf who’d insulted him. Marshaling his thoughts, he set pen to page and wrote:

  Drystan,

  I pray this letter finds you and your family well. It has been some six months since we last spoke, and I grow weary of having a mate more phantom than not. If I do not hear from you directly, I will be forced to arrive at your father’s castle to demand entry. You are fond of draconic tradition, and so I must remind you we are destined to share our lives as one entity. We cannot achieve such a feat without the benefit of conversing. I await your hasty response.

  Your mate,

  Marquis Conley Kelandraconis

  Well-satisfied with his efforts, Conley sealed the note with wax. He’d ask his father to see to it that a messenger delivered it. Conley was anxious for Drystan to receive it—while there was little need for two young drakelings to rush, Conley had been starved for any ounce of affection for the entirety of his life. No matter how annoying he’d found Drystan, he welcomed the opportunity to explore the possibility of love.

  * * *

  “Drystan, you have been pouting for months. It is unseemly. You should have written to Conley by now,” Queen Helen chastised.

  “I am still angry.”

  “You are being ridiculous. It matters not that he had a dalliance with a serving girl. It means nothing.”

  “You are the one who taught me one dallies only with their mate.”

  “It is preferred Drystan, but no one is perfect.”

  “I find I do not like the idea of anyone touching Conley in that way.”

  “That’s as it should be, but you are not being fair.”

  “I wish for him to belong to me alone.”

  “He surely knows this with the way you have ignored him these many months.”

  Drystan frowned at her and was relieved to hear his father calling for him. “Father, what is it?” he asked as soon as King Aeron was in view.

  “A letter has arrived for you.”

  Snatching it from his hand, Drystan all but tore it open. “It is from Conley,” he informed his parents in excitement.

  “What does it say?” his mother asked.

  “He demands I write him back.”

  “No doubt he’s grown weary of your pouting,” his father said.

  “You have been speaking with Mother. I have not been pouting. I have been angry.”

  “Will you write him back? Or are you still cross with him?” Queen Helen asked.

  “I intend to extend him an invitation.”

  His mother smoothed her gown as she stood. “Oh good, I should like to see him again.”

  Drystan nodded, no longer listening. He was already formulating his response to Conley in his head. Rushing from the room and into his father’s study, he sat down at the desk and composed a missive:

  Conley,

  My parents are well. My mother has asked on almost a daily basis as to your welfare. Since I had not received any news from you I have been forced to disappoint her these many months. I, too, wish for us to follow all draconic traditions. I trust you have not fallen into past bad habits while we have been apart.

  I find no reason for you to remain under your father’s roof as it would be best for us to live together. That will bring us closer, and you need me to look after you. I am most eager to see your comely face again. I pray you do not waste any time before beginning your journey to your new home.

  Your mate,

  Prince Drystan Beradraconis

  * * *

  Conley read Drystan’s words and found himself quite annoyed with the tone of his letter. It was Drystan who had not sought him out after he’d overreacted to Conley’s admission that he’d not remained pristine. Though, Conley thought, he was hardly experienced. While he was certainly interested in exploring a relationship with Drystan, he did not think it a keen idea to rush.

  Drystan’s note in hand, he sought out his father and found him in his study. As a duke, the man had wide-ranging duties and was constantly busy. Conley didn’t know what task was occupying him, but his parent was bent over the desk with quill in hand.

  “Father, might I beg for a moment of your time?”

  “Make it quick.”

  “Of course, Father. I wished to speak to you of my mate.”

  “Your mate?”

  “Yes, I did mention I had met him at the Emperor’s fair.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. I had forgotten.”

  Conley tried not to let the words hurt his feelings. “Yes, well, I have received a letter.”

  “Am I to guess as to its contents?”

  “Of course not; he wishes I pay him a visit.” He wasn’t going to mention Drystan had all but ordered him to pack his things and move into his father’s castle. A visit would allow Conley to discern if it was prudent to see this relationship through.

  “A visit? Is he unhappy with Fate’s choice for him?”

  “No sir, I do not believe so. In fact, I have faith the opposite is true. A visit would allow us to get to know each other better.”

  “Conley, I know you are quite young, but your mother and I have both taught you to obey Fate. There is little need for you to pay him a visit. Fate has dictated you two will share your lives. It is far better for you to pack up your belongings and move to this home of your mate’s—what was his name again?”

  “Prince Drystan Beradraconis,” Conley replied. He was not at all pleased with the direction of this talk with his father, but the man was apparently of the same mind as Drystan.

  “A prince? Fate has smiled upon you, Conley. She is being kinder than you deserve. Now you mustn’t irritate the son of a king. You will pack up your things and head for Castle Bera posthaste.”

  “But sir, I thought to—”

  “Conley, you are to have your things collected by morning. I will have men ready to escort you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Conley?”

  “Yes, Father?”

  “It might be cordial to write your mother after you have mated. It is the kind of thing a mother might wish to know.”

  “Yes sir, I will send word,” Conley said. Tears threatened; it seemed he had no choice but to show his face at Castle Bera. Should he and Drystan find themselves incapable of completing their matebond, he would have no place to return. He would not even have time to send a letter to Drystan to announce he would be arriving shortly. Conley could only hope King Beradraconis did not find him too much of a burden.

  Chapter 4

  Sitting on the wall of the highest tower of Castle Bera,
Drystan was watching several dragons flying overhead when he saw a group of men on horseback arriving with the Kelandraconis banner flapping high above them. It was about time Conley sent back a letter, Drystan thought, though he knew the other drakeling must have only barely received his reply. He swung his legs onto the roof of the tower and hastily descended into the belly of the castle.

  In the Great Hall, he nearly toppled over several serving girls who were busy preparing the room for the evening sup as he ran through it. He heard someone shout his name but surely, they could see he had business to attend to. Conley’s letter would certainly include details on when he would be arriving. Drystan found himself most impatient to see him again.

  The guards must have taken forever to allow the Kelandraconis’s messenger through the gates, Drystan thought uncharitably. Finally, after several torturous minutes, the wide doors of the keep swung open. Only, it was not a messenger who appeared but a very dusty version of his mate.

  “Conley? What do you?” Drystan asked. He noticed the men who had escorted Conley to the castle had entered the room but they were of no consequence, so he ignored them completely.

  “What are you prattling on about? You sent for me, and here I am.”

  “I was expecting a messenger with a letter that would include details of your upcoming arrival.”

  “I am sorry to disappoint,” Conley replied, his tone filled with vitriol.

  That snapped Drystan to attention. “I did not say I was disappointed. Only surprised. Come to our chamber; I will have a bath sent up.”

  “We do not have a chamber; we barely know one another. I can sleep in the Great Hall if there is no space for me to have a bed of my own.”

  Drystan crossed his arms over his chest. “I must assume your journey was most difficult as you are being completely unreasonable. We are mates.”

  Conley marched up to him and from his puny height mirrored Drystan’s pose. “The journey is not at all the problem. It is you. You are dictating how our lives are to be. I have a mind of my own.”

  “Conley,” Queen Helen exclaimed as she came down the stairs and into the Great Hall. “It is so good of you to come.” Heedless of his dusty attire, she drew him into a hug before shouting orders to have rooms readied for the men and baths drawn.