“Stop giving me that pissy look,” Alaric told him. “We’ve been worried about you.”
Again, Chander wondered how long these men had been in this room with him, but he had no way to ask. He was grateful to know they cared so much for him. A yawn worked up from his feet, and Chander was surprised as weariness stole over him. How the hell could he be wiped out? He had been awake for almost no time at all. A new face walked into the room, and Chander could smell the tantalizing scent of meat. It might be only broth, but he was looking forward to it, even if he had to deal with the humiliation of having Alaric help him eat it.
* * *
Chander woke up and was momentarily disoriented. This wasn’t his bedroom. Then he remembered he was in a hospital, but he still didn’t know what had brought him here or why his limbs were weighed down and everything was painful. As he had the day before, Alaric was holding his hand. A part of Chander knew that was a bad thing because he was too scared to have a relationship, but it made him feel so damn good he held on. Alaric had been patient and helped him eat the few mouthfuls of broth he’d had the energy to consume before he’d been pulled back into slumber.
He looked over and found Alaric watching him. His beautiful eyes were warm, and his mouth was curled into a soft smile.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” Chander croaked out. His voice sounded rusty; he cleared his throat and Alaric stuck a straw between his lips. The water was cool and delicious. When he’d had his fill, he thanked Alaric and they sat staring at each other for several minutes.
“Oh hey, he’s awake again,” Benton exclaimed as he came up to the side of Chander’s bed.
“Thank Fate, if he slept for another two weeks, I really would have punched him,” Baxter said.
Chander got so stuck on the threat of being thumped by his sentinel that the beginning of his sentence took a minute to process. “Wait, did you say two weeks?”
He saw the three sentinels exchange glances and knew they were trying to decide how much to tell him. “Knock it off, I want you to be honest with me.” Chander wished his voice was stronger. His command had come out hardly above a whisper.
“You were in a coma for two weeks.” Alaric did that thumb-stroking over Chander’s hand.
Chander struggled to sit up, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.
“Hey, relax,” Benton ordered as he gently pushed him back the one inch he’d managed to get off the mattress.
“Good morning, Arch Lich,” the doctor greeted as he strode into Chander’s hospital room.
“Tell me why I’ve been sleeping in this bed for two weeks,” Chander demanded.
“You had a catastrophic heart attack,” Dr. Tranelephas revealed. “The Grand Warlock and his family saved your life. The muscle tore into two pieces.”
All the wind in Chander’s erstwhile sails deflated. How could that have happened? He was too young to suffer from heart trouble and he told the doctor that.
“We don’t know what the underlying problem is, but there’s an anomaly in your blood. It’s hurting you, and we think it might be the culprit,” Dr. Tranelephas explained. “We’re still running tests.”
“Is it still harming me?”
“I’m afraid so,” Dr. Tranelephas said. “It’s doing its best to tear apart the bandage the warlocks wrapped around your heart. We can’t keep shoving light magic in you.”
“I know, I’m a dark sorcerer. At some point, it will do more harm than good,” Chander replied. “That explains why it hurts every-damn-where too.”
“We’ll get more medication for you,” the doctor promised.
“I don’t want to be incoherent. I can handle pain. I want to know more about this anomaly. Have you contacted the Prism Wizard?”
“We have. He’s working on it but it’s not anything we’ve seen before,” the doctor replied. “There’s no need for you to suffer needlessly. We’ll give you enough medication to keep you comfortable without causing you to sleep all the time.”
“I need to speak with the Prism Wizard,” Chander declared.
“If you continue to be stable today, we’ll move you to a normal room tomorrow,” the doctor responded. “You can ask him to visit you after that. Arch Lich, your body continues to struggle against this unknown assailant. You have a long recovery ahead of you and you can’t rush it. We can’t guarantee you’re out of the woods yet, and you could have another heart attack. You might not be so lucky the second time. No stress. Eat everything we bring you and get ample rest.”
Chander didn’t like being told what to do, but he knew the doctor was giving him instructions to save his life. He tamped down his frustration at the situation. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but whatever this anomaly was inside him.
“Good morning,” Dra’Kaedan said as he sauntered into the room with Brogan.
“Hey, thanks for saving my life.”
“No thanks necessary,” the warlock insisted. “I’m glad you’re finally awake.”
“Arch Lich, did you experience any symptoms before this event?” the doctor asked.
Chander grimaced. The truth was, he’d known something was wrong, but he’d been too stubborn to do anything about it. “Nothing major. I experienced some pain in my chest and toward the end a great deal of fatigue.”
“You never told us you were in pain.” Benton’s voice was ripe with annoyance.
Chander tried to defend himself. “I don’t like it when everyone worries about me.”
“Lying doesn’t make us worry less,” Baxter countered.
“I’m sure the Arch Lich was convinced at his age it wasn’t likely to be anything serious,” the doctor said. “However, your days of not putting your health first are behind you. We’re going to do our best to fight this thing, but you’re going to need to listen to what your body is telling you. Rest when you are weary, and eat even if you aren’t hungry. I’ll be back to check on you later and answer any more questions you may have.”
“Thank you,” The doctor patted Chander’s leg and headed out of the room. “Dra’Kaedan. Seriously, thank you for my life.”
Dra’Kaedan smiled. “You would have done the same for me if you could.”
“What do you know about the anomaly?” Chander asked.
“As much as anyone else, which is not much. We’re working on it. And now we have your expertise. We’ll figure it out,” Dra’Kaedan assured him.
“And if we don’t?” Chander asked.
Dra’Kaedan’s eyes were somber and he didn’t need to answer for Chander to know what it would mean if they didn’t figure it out. He would die.
“We will. Don’t worry,” Dra’Kaedan promised. “Now let your sexy mate take care of you, and we’ll get you out of this hospital as soon as we can.”
“How come I get yelled at when I call other men sexy?” Brogan asked.
“Because you aren’t as charming as I am,” Dra’Kaedan retorted.
Chander grinned. It was nice to hear something as normal as Dra’Kaedan swapping words with Brogan. He turned to Alaric and then to his sentinels. “Thank you, guys, too for being here with me.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” Alaric squeezed his hand. Chander was becoming addicted to that comforting gesture as well as the other ones he’d gotten from Alaric.
“Where the hell else would we be?” Benton asked.
“I’m glad you’re awake though,” Alaric said. “You wouldn’t believe the shows they’ve been making me watch.”
Chander laughed; he knew the crap Benton liked to watch. Baxter was so crazy about the other sentinel he’d never complain, but poor Alaric was an innocent victim. “Next time use that shiny dagger of yours to smash the television.”
“Nice to know he’s still mean,” Benton responded. Chander chuckled at his sentinel and was swamped by his emotions. There was a great deal of information to be processed but one thing was crystal clear—he was incredibly grateful to still be here and surrounded by these amazing men. Time
would tell how much of a life he had left, and he intended to make every second count.
Chapter 30
A few days later, Alaric pressed a kiss to Chander’s forehead as the necromancer drifted off to sleep. It wasn’t that late but Chander tired easily. They’d moved him to a normal room upstairs from the intensive care unit and his condition remained stable. Dra’Kaedan and Brogan were no longer sleeping at the hospital, so the attached room intended for the use of a patient’s mate was being used by Baxter and Benton. The D’Vaires had sent over an impressive care package which included a pillow and blankets for the makeshift bed Alaric was using not far from where Chander rested.
Duke Dravyn D’Vairedraconis had arranged a gorgeous bouquet of flowers the color of Chander’s eyes and put them in a skull-covered vase. Chander had been near tears accepting it. It wasn’t the only floral arrangement in his room and new ones arrived daily. Visitors were still limited as they tried to keep Chander from overexerting himself, but the Prism Wizard had come to discuss the anomaly. They’d learned nothing new. The vast database of DNA, viruses, and other examples of maladies kept by the Spectra Wizardry had nothing even remotely close to it.
That didn’t mean the wizards—the race responsible for nearly all the treatments used by doctors—were giving up. Vadimas was personally working on finding something to reverse the slow damage being caused by the anomaly, and he was confident with time he would find something to cure it. In the meantime, Chander had wanted to know what it meant for him if they couldn’t unravel the mystery. The Prism Wizard and the doctors gravely informed him he had a few years at best. And only if he took great care of himself by using his prescribed medications, minimizing stress, and other proactive measures.
It couldn’t have been easy for Chander to hear, but he’d simply nodded and looked resolute. He was already demanding certain books be brought to him so he could add his own expertise, but it was slow going with his energy in short supply. That would get better, they were told; he was adjusting to the light magic in his chest and the medications. As time wore on, his lethargy would wane, but he would never have the strength of a normal person. Not until they could remove the anomaly destroying him.
Alaric was no student of magic, so he used his own energy to comfort his mate and take care of him as much as Chander would allow. To Alaric’s surprise, Chander wasn’t pushing him away but that could’ve been because he was still reeling from the circumstances surrounding him. Whatever was keeping him from complaining Alaric was grateful for, and he was determined to be there for him whether he liked it or not. He wanted to be Chander’s strength and the shoulder he needed to depend upon when the world around him brought him down.
There was a great deal more he’d love to ask of him, but only time would tell if they would be able to build upon the foundation that had been timidly created by Chander’s illness. What Alaric wanted was Chander as his mate in all aspects of their lives. But he knew—before all this Chander had not been willing to even try; hopefully after getting to know one another Alaric would get a shot to convince him they could go beyond simply a relationship of convenience.
For all the grimness in the air, there’d been some moments of amusement. The D’Vaires had sent over pajamas in their care package. Their tailor, Larissa D’Vairedraconis, was an avid sewer and always had plenty on hand. Chander had roared with laughter when Alaric had emerged from the bathroom wearing a green T-shirt and cotton pants covered in rainbow unicorns. The necromancer had blushed scarlet when he’d had to ask Alaric to help him into his own.
Chander declared he was sick of laying around in his hospital gown, and so they’d managed to get him into a gray top and bottoms covered in sugar skulls. He hadn’t realized it wasn’t something he could do without aid, but they got him dressed and then Alaric had guided his shaky-on-his-feet mate to the bathroom. He’d all but collapsed into his bed afterward and had fallen to sleep not much later. Alaric knew Chander’s frustration was liable to continue to grow over the coming days and weeks but so far, Chander was being remarkably good about his limitations.
Leaning over to kiss him again, Alaric knew he needed to get some rest of his own. He trudged over to his sofa-turned-bed and stretched his long body over it. It wasn’t that much different from the small mattress he had at the compound, so he had no complaints about his own accommodations. The only thing he would have changed was his proximity to Chander. He liked that physical connection of holding his hand and knew Chander was growing used to it as well. Yawning, Alaric rolled to his side and willed himself to sleep. He’d be no use to Chander if he was exhausted, and he was all that mattered.
* * *
Chander was smiling at something Alaric said when the Reverent Knights walked into his hospital room. Drystan had one hand in Conley’s and in the other, he carried exquisite black and silver flowers in a glass vase. Without any real conscious thought, he held on to Alaric a bit tighter where their fingers were laced. To say he was shocked to see the Reverent Knights was an understatement.
“Hey,” Drystan greeted awkwardly. “We brought you flowers.”
“Give me those,” Conley demanded before grabbing the vase and setting it down on the wide window ledge next to the D’Vaire bouquet.
“Thank you,” Chander said.
“How’re you feeling?” Conley asked.
“Good.” Chander supposed it was a truth in its own way; he was in pain and slowly dying but considering the circumstances, he was doing the best he could.
“You scared the shit out of me, you know,” Drystan revealed. Then Chander remembered, he’d been standing in the hallway with the pair when his heart had ripped apart.
“Wow,” Conley exclaimed. “Be nice.”
“I forgot you guys were there.”
“I didn’t,” Baxter groused. “They tranqued us.”
“You didn’t exactly leave us with much choice,” Conley retorted.
“I’m sorry I missed that part,” Alaric said. “But thank you for getting Chand the care he needed.”
“No thanks necessary,” Drystan replied. “He’s been my friend for a long time. I wasn’t about to lose him.”
Chander looked down at his blanket-covered feet. “I didn’t think we were friends anymore.”
“I’m surrounded by babies,” Conley complained. “Of course you’re still friends. Drystan just has a long history of pouting, which you had to know about before now. He needed time to remember you gave us life. You gave us this second chance.”
“I had good reason to be upset. It wasn’t pouting,” Drystan insisted before turning to Chander. “But he’s right. I needed time to digest everything and I’m sorry I was unappreciative of all you gave us.”
“He apologized. Someone write that down,” Conley crowed as Drystan glared at him. Conley kissed his irritated mouth.
“I don’t need an apology,” Chander insisted. “But I’d really like to be friends again. You’ve been an important part of my life, and I hated losing that. I’d also like the opportunity to get to know Conley. He seems cooler than you.”
Conley grinned. “Oh, I am.”
“I’d like that too,” Drystan replied. “And now we have Alaric to get to know. He seems nicer than you.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Baxter countered. “He loves pizza and I’m sure other crap Chand likes that’s awful.”
“What’s wrong with pizza?” Conley asked.
“Chand would eat it at every meal if he could,” Benton said. “I can’t even look at it anymore.”
“Your taste in food is as crappy as your taste in television,” Alaric retorted. Chander nodded at him.
“I want you to know—that’s what I wanted to talk to you about before you decided to do this whole hospital stint thing,” Drystan announced.
“You aren’t just feeling sorry for my sick ass?” Chander asked.
Drystan shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You look weird without your glasses.”
�
��You’ve seen me without them before,” Chander reminded him. There were times when he allowed druids to heal his eyes, so he wasn’t always bespectacled.
“Yeah, but it still freaks me out when you aren’t wearing them.” Drystan pulled Conley in front of him and wrapped his arms around him.
“Complain to Dra’Kaedan,” Chander suggested. “He healed everything including my eyes. So far I can’t stay awake long enough to read much, so it might be awhile before I damage them to the point that I need glasses again.”
“I’m surprised he’s not here,” Drystan responded.
“He comes and visits at least once a day, but Chand kicks him out after a while,” Benton explained.
“He’s done enough. He doesn’t need to ignore his own life to see to me,” Chander argued. “Besides he’s happy to go. It gives him time to help Vadimas with this whole anomaly business.”
“Any headway there yet?” Drystan asked.
“Not so far,” Chander replied.
“They’ll figure it out,” Benton added.
“Have the elders been over to visit you yet?” Conley asked.
“Nope, and I prefer it that way.”
“They’re probably still pissed about what Chrys said to them,” Drystan responded. Chander had no idea what the fallen knight was talking about.
“What did Chrys say to them?” Chander asked.
“They told him they needed to take your power to vote for the Order of Necromancia,” Drystan told him. “He explained your race would abstain until you could vote or have Alaric do it for you.”
“Shit, I completely forgot about voting,” Chander replied. “I guess I assumed they would figure out a way to do it without me.”
“Don’t stress out,” Benton reminded him as he patted his arm.
“We can send over the assembly schedules so you will know what’s taking place,” Drystan suggested.
“I can vote for whatever you tell me to,” Alaric added.
“Okay, let’s do that. I can’t read through whole bills. I’ll have Evergreen give me bulleted lists. I can make decisions from there.”
Rise of the Lich Sentinel Page 21
