Maintaining his silence was the reason Gedeon was not reacting with hostility. For two more weeks, Gavrael needed to continue to keep quiet and then he had to hope Gedeon had adapted to Arizona. Gavrael knew he was no closer to adapting, himself. His fear was just as pronounced as ever. It was very concerning to him; his fear could turn out to be unsurmountable. All his training should have prepared him to overcome it. He was horrified to think that despite being an assassin feared throughout the Council, he might be nothing more than a coward.
It made Gavrael wonder if perhaps he was suffering from this flaw that sentinels were believed to have. The flaw was not obvious enough that it was immediately apparent, and Gavrael wondered if that was because it was limited to only certain sentinels. Perhaps the spell caused some of his kind to lack the ability to function as they should.
The flaw didn’t seem to affect his mate at all. Gedeon certainly appeared to be comfortable in Court D’Vaire, and he had no reason to think Gedeon felt any fear at all. He had pushed on more than one occasion to move forward as mates. No doubt Gedeon would think less of him if he knew Gavrael had succumbed to the flaw inherent in sentinels. Who would wish to be mated to someone who never quite felt comfortable in their own skin? Who feared the matebond the entire Council did nothing but cherish?
In two short weeks, Gavrael would see for himself if Gedeon was still interested in being together. Hopefully, some sort of miracle would occur before then, and Gavrael would learn how to have a normal conversation with someone. Otherwise, he was pretty much screwed in the communication department. Like his speech issues, he had to hope his fear also washed away. Or their entire mating was clearly doomed.
* * *
It had been a very interesting day, Gedeon thought to himself as he sat in the living room with the majority of the D’Vaires. They were all there chatting with their newest family member, Delaney, and watching the antics of the little dragon the wizard had named Greggory. The only person missing from this impromptu family gathering was Gavrael. No doubt Gedeon’s mate was closed up in their bedroom with his nose buried in a book or doing whatever it was he did on his laptop. Those were the two activities Gavrael was usually engaged in if he wasn’t training. If his mate was anything, he was certainly predictable.
Before Gedeon could get himself worked up about the ongoing feud or whatever the hell it was he had going on with Gavrael, he felt a presence to his left. Turning his head, he saw Greggory, the wizard familiar, do a little fly-hopping kind of maneuver that landed him right on Gedeon’s shoulder.
“Hey Greggory,” he said. Greggory lacked the ability to speak, but he gave his small wings a flap and made a growling motion in the back of his throat which Gedeon surmised was his way of returning his greeting. Gedeon reached up and gave Greggory a pat on his back. His leathery skin was slick to the touch and covered in scales just as if he was a dragon shifter like many of the inhabitants of Court D’Vaire. Greggory’s likeness to the “real” dragons was remarkable, and the entire family was pretty awed by both the familiar and his wizard. Delaney had arrived that morning, only days after being informed his application had been accepted and approved.
The teenage sorcerer had black hair and eyes so dark it was difficult to tell where his pupils began. He stood a couple of inches below Gedeon and was lanky in build. His personality was outgoing and friendly, and Gedeon was glad he was now family. It seemed like Delaney and Greggory were going to fit in pretty well around here. The only thing the D’Vaires had not been prepared for was Greggory’s mealtime needs.
The little dragon loved to eat and would gobble up anything put in front of him. Greggory was never far from Delaney’s side and wanted to eat with the rest of the family. The only problem was the dragon made a horrible mess of himself. Delaney had bibs for the little guy, but the whole area around Greggory practically had to be hosed down after he was finished eating.
Noirin had laughed as she helped Delaney clean Greggory and the kitchen after both lunch and dinner. After their evening meal, Aleksander decided action was needed, and he suggested they have a small sink installed into the large island in the center of the kitchen. It would belong exclusively to Greggory, and they could hose the little dragon down in it when he was done. Delaney had declared it a perfect solution and had thanked Aleksander profusely. The D’Vaire ruler had assured the young wizard he would have it taken care of as soon as possible.
After a couple of pats for Greggory, the little dragon moved on to get pets and a cuddle from Blodwen. It made Gedeon smile, and since he was in such a good mood, he decided it was time to go see what Gavrael was up to. He said goodnight to his family and headed down the hall to the gray nightmare that was their room. Gedeon’s bright green and teal room was, for all intents and purposes, complete. Too bad he was so reluctant to move into the bedroom he designed.
However, he was running out of excuses not to move, and since neither Gedeon nor Gavrael had shared with the rest of their family they were mates, his relocation was imminent. Obviously, it was time to make a move on Gavrael and convince the sentinel they were more than ready to move forward in their relationship. Hopefully, Gavrael would be receptive, or Gedeon was likely to lose his mind.
Opening the door to their shared room, Gedeon saw his mate immediately. Gavrael was sitting on his bed reading a book. No doubt it was something to do with weapons or tactics. Not that Gavrael needed any further instruction on either subject—Gedeon had firsthand experience with how crazy good the sentinel was with his weapons. Training seemed to be Gavrael’s favorite pastime, and Gedeon supposed his continued commitment to constantly working with his daggers was the real reason he excelled.
It occurred to Gedeon sometimes actions were more impactful than words. That thought in mind, he decided to plop his ass right down on Gavrael’s bed next to him. The reaction was immediate; Gavrael set his book aside and sat up straight. Gedeon would even go so far as to say fear lurked in the beautiful bronze eyes of his mate, but that could very well be imagined. Gavrael was nearly impossible to read, and he couldn’t imagine the other sentinel fearing anything.
“Gedeon, is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine,” he assured him, and before Gavrael could muster any sort of response, Gedeon leaned toward him. He didn’t know if their lips had actually touched when he tried to plant one on him outside, so it was without a doubt past time for them to have their first kiss, and Gedeon was determined to feel Gavrael’s mouth on his. Too bad his mate was not cooperating. The further forward Gedeon leaned, the further back Gavrael went. Gedeon was not going to be deterred, and there was only so far Gavrael could go, so he kept right on pressing toward him.
Gavrael’s eyes widened as he realized he was not going to relent, and Gedeon offered the other sentinel a wide smile full of promise. He placed his arms on the bed as he continued his forward attack and then it was Gedeon’s eyes that were wide. The smile dropped from his face as he watched Gavrael lean back so far, he toppled backward off the bed. It would seem his mate would rather find himself on the floor than to get close to Gedeon.
“What the fuck?” Gedeon blurted out as he straightened up on the bed.
“What are you doing?” Gavrael asked him from his spot on the floor—he had not bothered to try and pick himself back up. He was slouched down against the wall, and if Gedeon wasn’t mistaken, Gavrael looked angry. That was just too fucking bad.
“What the hell do you think? I was trying to kiss my mate,” Gedeon yelled, though moron might be a better word to call him than mate, he thought in irritation. Enough was enough, he decided.
“Why would you do that? I have told you we are not ready.” Gedeon’s face contorted into a snarl at the words. Churning with anger, Gedeon was determined to end playing this “adjustment” game.
“You know what? Fuck you, Gavrael. I’m adjusted to life here. You’ve had more time than I have, so I know you’re used to the way things work. Stop making up these ridiculous excuses.
”
“We will be ready to discuss our mating soon,” came the response from the disheveled sentinel still leaning back against the wall. Gedeon had heard quite enough. He had no idea what the hell Gavrael’s problem was, but he was tired of playing these stupid games.
“Whatever. My new room is ready. I’m going to pack up my shit tomorrow and move. You can sit here in your big gray room and do whatever it is that makes you happy,” Gedeon said and got up off of his mate’s bed. Grabbing a pair of pajamas from his dresser, he went into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. When Gavrael was ready to get his head out of his ass, he would know where to find him. As pissed off as he was at the stubborn idiot, Gedeon knew that at the first sign from Gavrael, he would be more than willing to move forward with their relationship.
Chapter 11
Idris Vioric dug through the scarred dresser that held his clothing. It was not full, but he was grateful for everything in there. His grandfather hadn’t wanted Idris to become spoiled, so he had only given Idris a new pair of pants and a shirt to match twice a year. The hems of the sleeves and pants had to be rolled up when they were new, and by the time another outfit was purchased, Idris was tugging at the fabric to have it cover his wrists and ankles. It had been nearly six months since his grandfather’s death, and Idris was looking forward to having all the wealth Latarian often boasted of so he could purchase new stuff. Their plan was so clever that he might buy two outfits; the thought had him laughing aloud.
In the meantime, he was searching fruitlessly for a dark shirt to go with his gray pants. They were going to the Cwylld village tonight to steal the magic-sucking stones, and dark clothes would be best. Idris idly wondered if Latarian had any black clothing. Since the day he had bumped into her, she had worn only long lavender dresses. They were very old-fashioned. To Idris, it was clearly a history-book-type style. Latarian also spoke as if many centuries had not passed. Idris could not understand that; she could easily conjure up a spell to help her converse like everyone else. He had offered to help her, but she was emphatic; she preferred her own way of speaking.
Latarian was very emphatic about many things, Idris knew. She reminded him a great deal of his grandfather. He too had been quick to anger, and Idris had learned from a very young age, he was the type of person that seemed to annoy people in a short amount of time, so he did his best not to get upset when Latarian’s voice grew strained or her words became hurtful in anger. Idris knew he was lucky to have a friend like Latarian.
His grandfather had been ill a long time before his death, and Idris had missed out on school to tend to his needs. Meals, laundry, cleaning, and bathing the man had filled Idris’s long days. Although he missed his grandfather, Idris sometimes thought his life was easier now that he was no longer suffering in pain. Those types of thoughts always filled Idris with shame. He knew it was not right of him to think so selfishly.
Putting thoughts of the man who had raised him aside for the moment, Idris allowed his excitement about Latarian’s plan to bleed into worry. He wasn’t entirely sure they would be able to steal the stones despite Edion’s help. Cadlyr was a scary elf, and Idris hoped they did not run into him. That spear of his had looked very sharp, and Edion had told him inside the tip was shavings of magic-stealing rock. If Cadlyr stabbed him, that would be inside Idris, and his magic would drain very fast. Idris had to do whatever it took not to get cut; Latarian’s ability to cast was weak, and she would not be able to save him. Cadlyr could kill him and then there would be no one to take care of his friends.
Pushing his fear aside, Idris closed the drawer of his dresser with a huff. He would have no choice but to wear his normal clothes. He wished he knew a spell to alter his appearance or change the color of his attire, but he knew little of magic.
“It is time to go,” Latarian proclaimed from the doorway of Idris’s bedroom.
“Okay, I just want to check on Edion,” Idris said and began to walk toward the room’s exit.
“The elf is fine. We will go now.” Idris looked at the tightness of Latarian’s jaw and understood there would be no arguing with her and he knew he was stalling anyway. He sent up a silent and fervent plea to Fate for Cadlyr to please be sleeping so Idris did not get stabbed with his spear, and then he pushed a chunk of his magic toward Latarian so she could teleport them to just outside the Cwylld camp. She hissed at the pain of it but cast the spell without comment.
After arriving, Idris could immediately see the elves were fast asleep. It was so dark; he could barely make out the trees and huts that comprised the village. Even the smoke smell that had been so strong when they were there last was faint in the air. Silently, the pair made their way to the chieftain’s hut, so they could count out the steps that would lead them to the stones.
Idris could barely count out each stride he took. All he could hear was the heavy pounding of his heart, and it distracted his mind from his task. Licking his dry lips as he stepped behind Latarian’s lavender-clad form, Idris stopped counting and concentrated on swallowing as his mouth was suddenly full of an endless flow of saliva. Heavy with his own fear, Idris didn’t realize Latarian had come to a stop, and he nearly toppled them both over when he smacked into her.
Stifling the urge to yelp, he steadied her small form by placing his hands on her waist and holding her upright. Once she had her balance, she shoved him away and began walking again. Her steps were quickening as the pair could clearly see a hut directly in their path. Idris’s eyes darted left and right as he checked to make sure the spear-toting Cadlyr was nowhere in the vicinity. Latarian once again came to a stop in front of him, but this time Idris was prepared and didn’t barrel into her. She slowly pushed the wooden door of the earthen hut in, and Idris felt the power of the stones like a blow to the chest. Knowing his magic could not withstand the drain, he immediately shoved as much power as he could into Latarian so she could get them out of the hut and safely home. Latarian didn’t waste a second of time, and soon they were once again under the crumbling roof of his grandfather’s ancient home. Only then did Idris let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Stealing the stones had been so much easier than he imagined, which had him grinning foolishly. He had been so worried that his heart was still pounding like a jackhammer in his chest. Thanks to Edion’s instructions, they’d found the hut without any problems. The elves hadn’t heard them at all, and Cadlyr with his spear had obviously been fast asleep. Idris was tremendously grateful he hadn’t been stabbed.
“Idris, do not just stand there. We must leave this room immediately before we have no magic,” Latarian ordered. She had teleported them back to the small room the pair had lined with all the copper they could get their hands on. Luckily, the kitchen had quite a store of copper pots, and they were able to use a spell to line this tiny room at the bottom of the old stone house. Idris was hot on Latarian’s heels as they marched into the hall.
Latarian sealed the room and Idris immediately felt better. Being that close to so many of the rocks had made him want to throw up. Turning toward Latarian, he saw her face lit up with a rare smile. She grabbed his arm and spoke, “Idris, we have done it. We must now plan our trip to Arizona. I know not yet how we will capture Dre’Kariston, but surely he must leave that fortress of a home. We will have to set up a small camp as close as we can without Dra’Kaedan sensing us nearby. When Dre’Kariston leaves the house, we will use our magic combined to follow.”
“Okay,” Idris agreed and smiled back at her. So far all her ideas had worked out great; Idris was confident they would continue to be successful. When she had power again, he wouldn’t have to worry about starving to death since he had no money and no idea how to get any. There wasn’t anything Idris wouldn’t do to help; it was the only plan he had for the future, and he knew Latarian would waste no time in teaching him how to weave magic.
“Come, we must decide what to bring with us,” Latarian said with a grin and picked up her skirts in her hands to climb the stai
rs. “Food and clothing are first on our list.”
“How are we gonna get Dre’Kariston to come with us?” It was something Idris had worried over, but he only dared ask Latarian now because she was in such a happy mood it was unlikely she would retaliate.
“I heard Edion speak to you of Cadlyr’s spear. We shall simply crush a small portion of one of the stones and imbue a little dust into a blade. Just a small poke and it will weaken him enough so we may cast a spell to put him into a deep sleep. When his magic abates enough for my grandfather’s spells to give his power to me where it rightly belongs, you will remove the dust from under his skin.”
“I don’t know that kind of spell. You know I don’t know that many,” Idris reminded her. He knew she was too busy planning to focus on teaching him right now.
“Obviously, I will teach you such a spell so you are prepared when the time is right.”
“Okay.”
“Go collect what food we will need for the two of us,” Latarian ordered as they arrived on the main floor of the home.
“You mean for the three of us? Edion will need to eat too,” Idris said. Idris was already fond of the elf and wanted to make sure he was taken care of.
“Edion’s portion of the food will stay here as he will not be joining us on our trip,” Latarian replied, her smile gone.
“We can’t leave Edion here; he can’t take care of himself.”
“Edion is perfectly capable of tending to his own needs,” Latarian said and to Idris, she began to sound annoyed, but Idris was determined to look out for his ugly new elven friend.
“He can’t take care of himself. He needs me.”
“Idris, the chieftain himself proclaimed Edion capable of taking care of household chores. Surely he can watch out for himself for however long it takes to capture a warlock.”
Sentinel's Dagger (D'Vaire, Book 2) Page 12