Heart of the High King (D'Vaire, Book 19)

by Jessamyn Kingley

  Rafferty remembered clearly experiencing a similar reaction when he traveled to D’Vaire, but he was unaware that anyone could be intolerant to spells. “I’ve only been teleported a few times, but I had that stuff.”

  “You really must get a bracelet or necklace to alert people of that.”

  Since that was the least of Rafferty’s concerns, as he could barely move, he just nodded. Without magic, he’d be cursed with the scars his father and brother had carved into his flesh. “I can’t be fixed, can I?”

  “I’m afraid not, Dermot. I don’t think it’s appropriate to get into everything that you’re going to have to adjust to, but your life has been significantly shortened. It’s highly unlikely you will ever walk again and to seize whatever slim chance there is, you’re going to need extensive surgical repair to your legs. We put a rod in, but your body has essentially rejected it, which means we’ll need to try again. You’ve got pins in your ankle but again, your lack of healing isn’t working in your favor.”

  “I will walk again.”

  “I can tell from your injuries that you endured something horrific, and I realize that in order to survive you must have incredible courage, but you need to come to grips with reality, Dermot. Your life will never be normal, and it’s impossible to say how long that even is right now. Will you please sign this form, so we can proceed with trying to get these wounds covered with skin? It took weeks to get the infection under control, and we had to remove a great deal of necrotic tissue. I would hate for all that work to be for naught.”

  “I’ll sign it,” Rafferty said, and the doctor handed him the form. “My wolf doesn’t like being tranquilized.”

  “Well, no one here can see to his care, so until you’re ready to leave this facility, I’m afraid he’ll just have to suck it up.” The doctor stalked out, and Rafferty couldn’t decide if he didn’t like the man because he still didn’t know his complete condition or his attitude about what he had told him.

  For one second, Rafferty considered asking someone to call Aleksander and let him know that he was here, but it faded quickly. A complete mess, he had to do Fate only knew what to manage to even get on his feet again, and without knowing why his life expectancy was so shortened, Rafferty had no real idea what his future held. From the moment he woke up in the hospital, he’d been in misery despite the steady funnel of medication and care from the staff.

  If there were no changes to his condition, what right did he have to alert Aleksander to his survival? Hurt squeezed his chest and he shoved it aside. No matter what was wrong with him, Rafferty hadn’t survived just so he could sit in a bed. Somehow…some way…he would be healed and walk right back through the doors of Aleksander’s mansion. Until that happened, his mate would have to live with just a little more separation. The last thing Rafferty wanted was for Aleksander to have to take this horrific and scary journey with him. It was his desire to return to his mate whole, and he needed to be strong enough to do that.

  As for the scars, the gray hair, and the missing dragon—Rafferty had no answers for that right now. His focus had to be on getting better; then he could deal with those issues. The puffy marks that littered his arms would diminish and hopefully be barely noticeable. Although he’d yet to see the rest of himself, it was just a matter of time before he was at least presentable. Closing eyes as exhaustion tugged at him, he used thoughts of Aleksander to put a smile on his face.

  ∞∞∞

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Aleksander told Larissa while D’Vaires scurried around his bedroom suite, filling it with the new furnishings.

  “You literally haven’t updated anything in here since the house was built. It should’ve been redone years ago, and since we’d already finished Kitchi’s, there was nothing holding us back once you gave me the okay,” Larissa argued. He helped her put a stunning brocade coverlet on the enormous four-poster bed she’d selected. When he had shrugged at a concept for his space, she’d decided it needed to suit a man who was the only High King. They’d stuck with Aleksander’s preferred format of having the bedroom in front and the side room, which he’d basically thrown a couch in two decades ago, now featured not only a gigantic sectional in his dragonskin but a kitchenette and dining area.

  The solid oak king-sized centerpiece stained a dark walnut that Aleksander was loading up with beaded throw pillows anchored the room, but Larissa had also insisted on having a fireplace installed. Together, they’d selected stacked stones under a thick mantel that matched the bedframe. An oversized chaise was plunked down in front of it, and there were televisions in both rooms so he could watch in bed or stretched out on the sofa. The plain door separating them had been replaced by a gorgeous set of French ones, and even the bathroom had gotten the extravagant treatment.

  There was a shower built for maybe five and a giant soaking tub he would probably only use a time or two a year. Larissa hadn’t asked him because if she had, Aleksander would’ve preferred a single sink, but there were a pair of them, and acres of white marble with veining in gold and silver were everywhere. As someone who would’ve attempted to describe himself as simple, Aleksander had to admit he liked the elegant surroundings Larissa had put together.

  “I don’t think I would’ve picked this stuff, but I love it,” Aleksander said.

  She slung an arm around his waist. “See, I know your secrets. Since we were a century old, I’ve paid attention. I wanted to do this when we moved in, but you fought me every step of the way.”

  “I was one hundred and two the day we met, and the house was more important than my rooms so, of course, I wasn’t going to take your focus from the shared spaces.”

  “You are two whole years older than me, big whoop. And even when the house was finished, you still wouldn’t hardly let me do a thing in here.”

  “Where’d you get this rug? It matches everything perfectly.”

  Larissa smiled. “Duh, I had it made. I had to lighten up these dark colors, so that’s why the base is this beautiful cream, but I think the gold, silver, black, and blue are accented perfectly. I’m very happy with it. I’m glad you are too.”

  “Have you ever thought about starting an interior decorating company?”

  “Nah, I like doing this stuff for family and friends, but I’m happiest at my sewing machine, making pajamas.”

  “I can’t believe these light fixtures Madeline made,” Aleksander said, studying the one above his head.

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t like chandeliers, but then I remembered you were gay.”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  “Right?” Dra’Kaedan said, sauntering in from the attached room, where he’d been helping get everything settled into place. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started to say that Aleksander’s not gay and corrected myself. Evergreen may never recover from his disappointment of not making a move on you when he could.”

  There was heat in his cheeks, but Aleksander just shook his head. “I’m no prize, and I wouldn’t have let anything happen between me and Alaric’s office manager. It would’ve made family gatherings too weird.”

  Dra’Kaedan laughed until he cackled. “Which is why it’s funny that Brogan’s still pissed you guys didn’t hop in bed together.”

  “Like I said, that would’ve been awkward as hell when you showed up.”

  The Grand Warlock just shrugged. “I suppose if you were still having sex, yeah, it could’ve gone horrible, but if you’d already ended your fuck-buddies stage, it wouldn’t have made any difference to me.”

  “It would’ve answered a question for us, though,” Renny remarked, joining their little huddle. “I mean, you and Brogan take five minutes. Is that because of you or him? If he and Aleksander had sex, we could ask our High King to comment.”

  With a glare, Dra’Kaedan flicked Renny’s arm. “It’s no one’s business.”

  “Sorry, dude. You didn’t summon me for centuries. I have memories I don’t want.”

 
“Okay, I summoned you as soon as I found out I was the Grand Warlock and that I had a familiar. I was under a spell, remember?”

  “I’d just like to point out that you had sex after your parents pushed you onto the side of the living before you went to the living room without telling Aleksander you were adding a new person to the household.”

  “I missed my damn mate,” Dra’Kaedan snapped, his navy eyes filling with anger as his infamously short temper surfaced. “And I had a lot of damn shit going on, which is why I forgot to talk to Aleksander first.”

  Knowing that Dra’Kaedan and Renny were apt to get into a brawl if he didn’t step in, Aleksander laid a hand on the Grand Warlock’s shoulder. “It never mattered to me that you summoned your familiar. Renny, you’ve always been a welcome addition to the family.”

  “Yeah, asshat, so stop trying to pick a fight with me,” Dra’Kaedan told his familiar.

  Renny’s forehead creased; then he stared at his sneakers. “We’ve talked about this millions of times. I was just teasing and not trying to pick a fight. Sorry.”

  As if a breeze had swept through the room, the storm clouds on Dra’Kaedan’s face disappeared and he tugged Renny into his arms. “I’m touchy about mates right now. Sorry.”

  Larissa reached out and latched on to the sleeves of both sorcerers, dragging them toward the door. “Let’s get out of here so Aleksander can enjoy his new space. Come on everybody, we’re all finished.”

  The group of D’Vaires scattered throughout Aleksander’s three rooms ran like the wind and exited. Aleksander, meanwhile, simply stood still and wondered if anything in his life would truly be normal again. The D’Vaires got weird whenever anyone said the word “mate,” and despite his argument that they should not skirt around the issue, no one wanted to hurt his feelings. Their extended family had been asking for months if something was wrong, but the loyalty of the people under his roof was never in question. As for the High King at the center of the storm, he still had no answers and missed the hell out of the man who had walked away nine months ago.

  Chapter 27

  “I want the catheter out,” Rafferty demanded.

  “You can’t walk,” Dr. Odocoileus retorted. “We’ve been over this. The pins in your ankle and the rod in your leg were replaced. Your body has refused to accept them. If you put weight on that ankle, it’s going to snap under you. Your only option, at this point, is to have the ankle replaced.”

  “So, replace it. I’ve had how many surgeries now? What’s one more?”

  “Dermot, you are becoming my most obstinate patient. You need to understand that your health is precarious. You’re fighting the nurses and not allowing them to clean you. I agreed to allow physical therapy to come in here to build up your strength, but you’re overtaxing yourself. You complain about the food, but you fail to understand we have no choice but to restrict your diet.”

  “I’m cleaning myself. Why isn’t anything healing? My hips are still open wounds. When are you going to fix that?”

  “We’re doing everything we can.”

  “When can we do the ankle replacement?”

  “I’m not going to authorize that. You need to come to terms with the fact that you will not walk again. My human consultant has suggested we think about amputation, especially with that mutilated ankle.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Rafferty welcomed the intrusion because what he really wanted to do was lift one of his skinny, scarred arms and punch Dr. Odocoileus in the face.

  “Hey, Dermot. Doc. You mind if we come in?”

  “Happy,” Mortis said, slowly trotting to Conley and Drystan.

  “It’s a good thing you’re here. Mortis has been awake for a couple of hours. I want him tranquilized.”

  “I refuse to allow my wolf to be tranquilized again,” Rafferty stated emphatically.

  “Look, Dermot, this is my hospital, and I am not going to deal with a wolf running around.”

  “Reverent Knights, did you mean what you said when you wanted to help me?”

  “Dermot, I thought we were on a first-name basis and, of course, but we can’t force the doctor to care for Mortis,” Conley said.

  “Can you get me out of here?”

  “You are in no condition to be outside of a hospital,” Dr. Odocoileus snapped.

  “This isn’t the only hospital on the planet, is it?”

  “And how will you get anywhere? You can’t walk, you can’t be teleported, and there’s no hospital within a driving distance you can conceivably tolerate that can care for a patient of your needs.”

  “That’s because you still refuse to tell me exactly why my condition is so fucked up and why I’m not healing or getting better.”

  Without a word, Drystan disappeared into the hallway while Conley hunkered down to pet and hug Mortis the way Rafferty wished he could. The guy had saved his life, and all he got in reward for that was months of unconsciousness.

  “I’ve explained that your condition is grave and given you what information is pertinent. We’re dealing with the issues that we can, one by one. The problem continues to be your body’s inability to heal and that you’re starting to experience new symptoms.”

  Rafferty had pervasive pain due to his extensive injuries, tired quickly, slept often, and had a general malaise that never freed him to even think straight. None of it seemed novel to him, and he glared as Drystan strolled back in.

  “Dr. Odocoileus, I’d like to give you the number of Dr. Tranelephas. He was the doctor who oversaw the care of the Arch Lich when he had his heart attack. While he wouldn’t be the one to care for Dermot personally, he has a friend who he thinks would tackle his case. We could fly him to Las Vegas and admit him to the hospital there.”

  Doctor Odocoileus rushed out to the hallway, and Rafferty guessed the man was so annoyed with him that he’d do anything to get rid of him.

  “Would you be okay with being transferred to Las Vegas Council Hospital?” Conley asked.

  “Absolutely. I don’t trust this guy, and he won’t answer a direct question. I know he told you guys everything that’s wrong with me for my case, but it pisses me off that he won’t be straight with me. And I’m tired of Mortis being tranquilized. Do you think they’d let me keep him awake there?”

  Drystan smiled. “Yeah, I already asked. I’m going to get some fallen knight and sentinel volunteers if I can to help out the hospital staff but yeah, we can keep Mortis awake.”

  “Happy,” Mortis rumbled through Rafferty’s head.

  Within hours, Rafferty and Mortis were carefully loaded onto a special plane equipped to handle patients, and he did his best to sleep during the long flight while his poor wolf had to be tranquilized again since no one knew how he’d handle the trip. His gurney was in a brand-new room, and grinning nurses hooked him up to the machinery that monitored his every heartbeat. A striking woman in bright red scrubs strode in and shook Rafferty’s hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Dermot. My name is Dr. Palesa Suricata. I’ve looked at your records while we waited for your flight, and we should probably have a talk.”

  “Thank you for letting me transfer here, Dr. Suricata. I’d like you to be honest with me and tell me everything that’s wrong with me besides the things I can see. I know my hips are a mess, that I need a new rod in my left shin and a new right ankle, but that’s all.”

  As the nurses left to care for other patients, the meerkat shifter dragged a chair to Rafferty’s bedside and once she was sitting, set the thick binder that he assumed were his records on her lap. Her expression when their eyes met was solemn. “I believe strongly in being honest with my patients. I know that Dr. Odocoileus believed you weren’t mentally stable enough to handle everything, but I disagree. You’ve spent over five months in a hospital and deserve to know why.”

  “Thank you, I agree.”

  “You arrived at the hospital in dire shape after being transferred through what we think is
two human centers. The staff at Nashville realized immediately how ill you were and called in every druid they could to heal you.”

  “I’m intolerant or something, right?”

  “Yes, and they blasted you with tons of magic. It caused massive swelling that went on for days. There were many surgeries to salvage the tissue that was still living. The damage was catastrophic. Dermot, you lost most of your colon, half of your liver, which is slowly re-growing, one of your kidneys, gallbladder, spleen, appendix, and part of your stomach, as well as two lobes of your right lung. It’s incredible you survived, especially given the state of malnutrition, dehydration, and the too numerous to count wounds—many of which were infected—that you presented with.”

  “They told me that there was damage; I didn’t know it was so extensive,” Rafferty said, his head spinning with the news. Wondering helplessly what other shocks were in store for him, Rafferty had never imagined it was so bad.

  “I’ve looked at your labs since then, and the news is not good, Dermot. You aren’t healing because your aging process has sped up with each week that’s passed. We can only assume that’s as a result of you losing your dragon. It’s impossible to say for sure since you’re the only known surviving shifter without their beast. I know you want to walk, and I’m going to be honest—that’s not likely, but I refuse to accept the impossible. So since we can’t get you to heal, let’s have some heavy-duty braces made that will maybe allow you to get around with a walker. At the very least, we can get you in a wheelchair and out of this bed. I can get physical therapy in here tomorrow. The minute you can transfer yourself into the chair, we can remove the catheter so you can take care of that by yourself, okay?”

  Rafferty nodded dumbly. “They talked about an ankle replacement.”

  “I’m going to be more interested in getting those wounds on your hip to close. I have a human consultant of my own. I’ve already called him—let’s see what we can do with medicines to promote healing. And right now, I’d be worried that just like the other surgeries it wouldn’t take, okay?”