Leaving their bedroom, Rafe headed down the hallway. When he made it to the great room, he found Kendrick alone in the kitchen.
“Hello, Your Highness,” Kendrick taunted, flipping a dishtowel over his shoulder.
“It’s Rafe.”
“I know your name, Rafferty. You must be enjoying life without Aleksander around.”
Rafe tensed, but he wasn’t going to allow any kind of altercation to take place under Aleksander’s roof. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“You started burning through money immediately. News travels. I heard Larissa was given carte blanche to buy you an endless wardrobe. Harley Griffinis was here ready to start building shit, and let’s not even get into the weapons we’re apparently stockpiling now so you can pretend you’re some feudal lord.”
All Rafe had wanted to do was find some form of exercise he could enjoy and while he’d wanted a partner, he hadn’t expected the tremendous response. In his mind, he’d resigned himself to asking Dra’Kaedan to put together a spell that would allow him to spar something magical. His thought was to make something along the lines of the holograms the sentinels could summon to train if there was no one around. The monetary investment into the swords and shields had never factored into his mind, and it made Rafe feel small and ashamed. Without funds, everything had been provided for him. Perhaps Kendrick was right that he wasn’t respecting Aleksander’s generous nature properly.
“Nothing to say? I’m surprised. You apparently had plenty to tell the fallen knights about your family. You certainly weren’t going to share your D’Vaire connection with them. I can’t even talk to my brother without being interrogated by someone. I’ll admit I couldn’t give a shit less about having a relationship with them, but it’s pretty cold of you to simply cut them off when you get paired with one of the most powerful families on the planet. It took you no time to shake them off, so you didn’t have to share your new wealth of allies. Rather heartless, considering how the Kestles arrived here with nothing.”
The thought of Court Kestle would always make Rafe uneasy. It wasn’t terror necessarily but a deep-rooted fury and disappointment that they still walked around spreading misinformation without paying for nearly robbing him of everything. To Rafe, it was still a miracle and a rather surreal one at that to see the ring on his finger. There was a man resting just down the hall who loved him, and he wasn’t just anyone—Aleksander was his perfect match, and he would probably never be worthy of such a beautiful soul.
“Is this like the silent treatment? Grow up, Rafferty. You might fool the other D’Vaires, but I shared the same court with you, so I know your true nature. My mother warned me my whole life to stay away from you, and she wasn’t a woman who turned on people easily,” Kendrick said, chuckling. “You’re probably wishing right now that Aleksander never wakes up and withers away so you can have High Court D’Vaire to yourself.”
The thought of life without Aleksander made his chest hurt, and he simply froze in place. There was a loud woof, and the glass in the door rattled. When it was opened by Brogan and Mortis and Nox ran toward Rafe, Kendrick backed up against the counter.
“Rafe breathe. Rafe be okay. Rafe calm down. Rafe relax.”
Realizing that he was holding his breath and his heart was thundering in his chest, Rafe ran outside and didn’t stop until he found Dra’Kaedan talking to his mother and familiar who were both readying for sword class. “Could he die?” Rafe rushed out.
Dra’Kaedan’s eyes grew round and he put a hand on Rafe’s arm. “Who? What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Sander, dammit. Can he die? Could this spell kill him?” Rafe demanded.
“Rafe relax.”
“I’m not going to fucking relax, Mortis! Is there any possibility Sander could die?”
Saura reached out and rubbed the arm her son wasn’t gently squeezing. “No, honey. He’s absolutely fine. Aleksander’s not even in a true coma; it’s more like suspended animation. I believe his mind is functioning as normal—he’s just not able to connect mind with body as his soul recovers from the binding. If you want, we can check on him every day to be sure, but I promise you that your mate is going to wake up. We just don’t know when.”
“But he can’t die?”
“No fucking way,” Dra’Kaedan responded.
Rafe dropped to his knee and hugged Mortis. “Sorry for yelling at you. I was worried.”
“Mortis know. Rafe sad about Aleksander. Nox not act weird. Would if Aleksander in trouble.”
Managing to get both wolves in his arms, Rafe kissed their heads. “Thanks, guys. Dra’Kaedan and Saura, thanks to you both, too.”
Chapter 59
Although Rafe wasn’t alone in his office, there wasn’t the normal camaraderie that his days were filled with when Aleksander was around. Worth was hunched at his laptop, muttering to himself while Brogan and Mac discussed a Council bill. Rafe had the two wolves sprawled on a bed Larissa had produced, and he was dutifully working on his database for Ellery and Chrysander. As for his mate, he’d been motionless for a week. Chander was called and hounded about a guess for how long Aleksander was going to continue to lay there, but the Arch Lich was unable to offer new insight.
Rafe wasn’t sleeping well. It was too damn odd with Aleksander so close physically, yet light-years away in terms of actually being there. The one thing Rafe had learned from the experience of trying to function by himself was that he was badly scarred from his months trapped in a mine. It was imperative that he try to heal from the betrayal of his family and find a way to put it to rest for good. To do that, he had to work through his emotions, which was overwhelming as they were suddenly bombarding him, but it was better for him to do it alone than to dump it on Aleksander. Now that his body was healed and his primary goal was simply surviving one day at a time, everything was catching up with him.
As Kendrick had pointed out, he was careless. There was an absence of any true concept of money as he’d never been trusted with funds, and every aspect of his life had been dictated by either Charlton or Sullivan. So, he was channeling his rage through swordplay and busting his ass with the sentinels while the evenings were for running. Each day he pressed himself a little further, and the wolves were at his side as he forced himself to see the truth of his centuries in Court Kestle. Rafe had quickly concluded that he’d never been comfortable in his skin, and that was something he was determined to fix.
Confused about his sexuality, afraid to upset the men he looked up to, and with the hours of his day planned for him, Rafe had simply not thought about who he was or what he wanted. His aim had been to gain the respect of Charlton and Sullivan, so he’d worked hard, and still they’d hated him. They had to or they couldn’t have hurt him the way they had once they found out his mate was male. Out of the darkness of his thoughts, Rafe saw that horribly awkward moment when he met Aleksander as a beacon of light. Fate had selected a man who Rafe would likely fail to measure up to, but he would not give him up.
Rafe was doing his best to use the love they’d built to burn away the depths of his fury, pain, and marred soul, but he understood it wouldn’t happen overnight. Although it was probably stupid not to shove it aside until his best friend was available, Rafe was tired of fighting himself. His emotions choked him while he tried to rest, and when the sun was up it only took a single word or even a smell to suck him back into the ruin of nearly everything inside him. So here he sat trying to make sense of the work the Office of the Emperor paid him for, in a mansion full of people who understood that he’d walked away from Aleksander and could not possibly believe he was truly a High King.
“Hey,” Dra’Kaedan shouted, bursting into the room, causing Rafe to jump. Mortis got to his feet and leaned against Rafe. The wolf understood that Rafe was on a knife-edge and it didn’t take much to spook him. Unlike the first few days when he first met Nox, the two four-legged sentinels rarely left Rafe alone.
“What’s up?” Brogan asked.
“Rafe, have you been in contact with Jeremiah?” Dra’Kaedan demanded with a sharpness to his voice Rafe didn’t understand.
“No, I told him I was going to take a break from dragon training until Sander wakes up,” Rafe offered quietly, petting Mortis.
“Okay, good because I was about to start yelling,” Dra’Kaedan remarked. Walking to Rafe’s desk, he handed him a small stack of papers. “Get this. Jeremiah’s shifting ceremony was this past weekend. Did he invite any of us? Nope. His dragon sounds crazy cool, and I can’t wait to see it. According to him, he’s different shades of silver, gray, black, and even a little white…he says his eyes look like glitter.”
“That sounds incredible,” Worth said.
“Court Wells doesn’t think so. Jeremiah’s filled out our sanctuary application.”
“Isn’t it a bit backward to shun someone for their scales?” Rafe asked, taking the form. “Obviously, it happens. Aleksander, for example. Even I was told my dragon wasn’t welcome, but that was hundreds of years ago.”
Dra’Kaedan scooted onto Brogan’s lap. “That’s the tip of the iceberg for Jeremiah. While he’s always been here, smiling and going on about the things he’s volunteering for, there was a deeper reason for all that. He doesn’t know who his parents are. Growing up, he was shuffled around and went through more homes than he can count. He’s never understood why they don’t like him, and he’s tried everything he can to gain the approval of the other dragons. When he decided to become a dragon trainer, it pissed everyone off. Now they’re saying he’s not a strong enough beast to continue with it.”
“It’s a person’s merit, not their color,” Worth snapped. “Did Elf not prove that?”
Everyone stared at Rafe, and he grew horribly uncomfortable but couldn’t be anything but honest. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I’d like to process this application. Jeremiah’s been to D’Vaire several times. He knows everyone. I’m sure Elf will be happy to vouch for him. The only question I have, is do we leave Jeremiah with these asshats until Aleksander wakes up, or do we move forward now?” Dra’Kaedan asked.
Rafe hated the idea of making such an important decision without Aleksander, but Dra’Kaedan had a point. Jeremiah wasn’t a candidate from nowhere. The D’Vaires had known him for years and by all accounts was well-liked. “I think…I think since this is a special case, we can go ahead with it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, though.”
Hopping up, Dra’Kaedan grinned and out of thin air produced a bowl. “Just stick your hand in there and pull out a slip of paper. We always select a random D’Vaire to assist with the process. This motley group of dukes in here aren’t supposed to be part of this, but it’s Jeremiah, so I’m bending the rules.”
“Okay,” Rafe responded. Grabbing one, he unfolded the vanilla-colored paper. “It says Macardle.”
“You could just put Mac on there,” the duke in question complained.
“I happen to like the name Macardle,” Dra’Kaedan argued. “Okay, let’s do this. We don’t have to get to know Jeremiah with phone calls since we’re familiar with him. However, we aren’t going to break rules either, so let’s see if we can check out his story. Rafe, maybe you could call King Wellsdraconis? It might help to expedite things if it’s one dragon ruler to another.”
“Uh, sure.” Rafe’s palms were sweaty as he fumbled with the pages.
Dra’Kaedan assisted him by flipping to the one he needed. “Here’s his number.”
After two rings, a curt voice said, “King Wells.”
“Your Highness, this is High King Rafe D’Vairedraconis. I was wondering if you have a few minutes to talk.”
“No disrespect, Your Highness, but I thought your name was Aleksander.”
“That’s my mate, Your Highness.”
“Oh. I hadn’t heard. Congratulations, Your Highness,” the man said in a flat tone.
Rafe’s brows knitted together, and he let it go. Whatever the man’s issue was not any of Rafe’s business. “Your Highness, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about one of your dragons? His name is Jeremiah, and he’s applied to Dra’Kaedan’s Coven. What can you tell me about him?”
King Wellsdraconis’s sigh was loud through the speaker of Rafe’s phone. “Your Highness, I prize honesty. That kid’s been a damn fool his entire life. His parents abandoned him as an infant. We don’t even know who they are, though there were some rumors about two dragons who cheated on their respective mates and wound up in a family way. I’d guess that’s the kind of baby that can’t be introduced around. Anyway, he was a weird kid. Had his head in the clouds half the time and as he got older took up painting. There’s no way to keep a roof over your head like that, but I never gave him permission to take up dragon training. I’ve got a perfectly good duke already in charge of that. I can’t say I know of anyone who genuinely likes the kid. If you could take him off our hands, we’d be grateful. Perhaps we could even build an alliance. Jeremiah made many fancy connections without involving me or my dukes.”
Rafe had read extensively on how sanctuaries worked and made sure he knew as much about the Council as possible. That knowledge came in handy as he wanted nothing to do with Court Wells, so he made a quick decision. “Your Highness, I’m afraid sanctuary records are sealed, so it would be impossible to make a formal announcement aligning High Court D’Vaire with Court Wells. Should our family approve Jeremiah’s application, it would have to be a clean break. It’s to protect our residents and allows Jeremiah to decide if he wishes to someday interact with whatever acquaintances he might have at Court Wells.”
“That’s a disappointment, Your Highness. You have any other questions? I’ve got a pretty full schedule and didn’t know you were calling today.”
“Your Highness, would you be willing to sign the form to separate Jeremiah from Court Wells to make him eligible for sanctuary?”
“I can sign it this minute if you like, Your Highness. I’m going to encourage Jeremiah to transfer somewhere else, should you folks not take him. He’s got no family here and no friends either. The boy’s a misfit, and so is that dragon of his.”
Rafe bit on his tongue for a second so he didn’t let out a string of curse words. “Thank you for your time, Your Highness, and your willingness to allow Jeremiah to seek happiness elsewhere. I don’t know yet if High Court D’Vaire is going to approve his application, but I can assure you that should he walk through our doors, we’ll celebrate the fact that he’s a misfit. Around here, we happen to like freaks.”
After hanging up, Rafe turned to Dra’Kaedan. “I didn’t think to ask if you wanted to question him.”
“Don’t worry, I learned everything I needed to know. You did a great job.”
“That guy’s a straight-up dick,” Mac stated.
“I happen to like a dick straight up,” Worth mused. “I believe he is, more correctly, an asshat.”
“So, I guess we vote on Monday?” Rafe asked.
“Yes, hopefully Aleksander will get off his ass by then,” Brogan retorted.
“Am I the only one pissed right now that Jeremiah never told anyone that he’s a damn misfit?” Dra’Kaedan demanded. “If I’d known he was doing all that volunteer work and killing himself to get these asshats to like him, I would’ve suggested he apply years ago when we first met him. There was no reason for him to wait for his dragon.”
“Any clue why he waited?” Mac asked.
Dra’Kaedan huffed. “Because he thought if he was a duke it would look better on his application. And that if he didn’t get approved here, he could at least find a court willing to take him on.”
“The process to transfer looks relatively straightforward,” Rafe commented.
“Yeah, Elf and Chrys keep improving it to lower the need for sanctuary. Nearly every king is willing to take on new members. There are few exceptions, and I know there’s an interview process to find the right fit, but Jeremiah’s so nice. I can’t imagine he’d find any problems,�
� Brogan responded.
“But he’s still a good candidate for us, right?” Rafe asked.
“I think an excellent one. He’s a freak with a rare dragon. Here he can have the freedom to do what he wants. His artistic skill is being wasted, and we aren’t going to make him volunteer for a bunch of shit just to get us to like him. We already do, so he can donate his time and energy where he wants and pursue his goals,” Dra’Kaedan remarked.
Mac stood and perused the application Rafe had set on his desk. “I’m going to get a letter from Elf just for records’ sake, and he’s left a few phone numbers of the people he’s volunteered with. I’m going to call them and see what I can learn, if anything.”
“You realize we don’t need any of that for this application, right?” Brogan inquired.
“Yeah, but I gotta pull my weight on this thing somehow. Plus, I’m curious. Maybe someone will spill the beans about his birth. I’m not going to hold my breath or anything, but you never know. Okay with you, Rafe?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Rafe replied. Although Aleksander was out, Rafe was comfortable with his decision to pursue Jeremiah’s inclusion to the sanctuary and hoped the rest of the D’Vaires agreed.
Chapter 60
For the second meeting in a row, Rafe was alone. Too exhausted to be nervous, he dragged his tired body into the living room and sat on the couch. Mortis and Nox took up sentry spots on either side of his legs as Rafe stared at his tablet. The last thing he wanted to do was make eye contact with the D’Vaires. Although he was often lost in his thoughts, he didn’t fail to notice how quiet it got when he walked into a room. No one spoke to him really or asked questions unless they were about swordplay during his daily classes.
Heart of the High King (D'Vaire, Book 19) Page 43