Chapter 6
Six years later
Gramlithyn inched his hat closer to his nose as his friend Dasan hummed and practically vibrated at his side.
It was rare for Dasan to stand still, and they’d been waiting for fifteen minutes for the weird druid they’d met at a bar last week to show up.
For the past six years, Gramlithyn had traveled across North and South America.
Almost from the start, he’d done so with Dasan at his side.
The hummingbird shifter was friendly, outgoing, and confident.
They’d shared little about their pasts, but Gramlithyn had learned that Dasan’s people didn’t belong to the Council, nor were they tolerant of much, including same-sex relationships.
As a gay man, Dasan had left behind his family and friends to build a life of his own.
Gramlithyn had desired to leave behind the haunting phone call he’d shared with Pyxlevir and the truth of their matebond, so they had similar backstories.
Not that either of them was willing to share many detail about the lives they’d left behind. Which suited Gramlithyn perfectly.
Instead, they trudged from city to city and took odd jobs to feed themselves. Some of them had been incredible, like their most recent employer, who’d been part of a television travel show. For months, they’d been paid to set up gear as they moved across countries.
But all good things had to end, and once the crew had wrapped up the shooting for the season, they fled to rejoin their families.
Gramlithyn and Dasan found themselves at loose ends yet again.
Thankfully, they had some money, and that was when they’d met the druid who was currently keeping them waiting in the middle of nowhere.
It was annoying that the druid was late, but Gramlithyn didn’t utter a complaint.
Nor did Dasan. The hummingbird shifter wiggled his shoulders and hips as Gramlithyn considered what they were about to do.
In a dusty bar after several drinks, the druid had offered them the service of being teleported to Europe.
The druid was an employee of the company the ruler of the druids—Killian the Dwyer—had created centuries ago.
He also had a private business where he took those willing to pay his exorbitant fee to the other side of the world.
Which was a bold move, given that traveling to Europe was illegal for Council members.
It was impossible not to wonder what the druidic leader would think of his employee breaking the law.
Gramlithyn had known Killian since he was six, and he worked diligently every day to better the Council and offer his people whatever they required.
There was no doubt in Gramlithyn’s mind that Killian wouldn’t hesitate to report the man to the Order of the Fallen Knights and/or the Sentinel Brotherhood.
Both races protected the Council and maintained law and order.
The rulers of both the sentinels and fallen knights also belonged to the extended D’Vaire family Gramlithyn had left behind at eighteen.
If any of them knew what Gramlithyn was planning to do, he’d be carted off by one pointy ear to jail.
Which he deserved.
But how could he resist this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?
And maybe…just maybe if a vast ocean separated him from Pyxlevir he’d get through one damn day without thinking about him.
Or a week without hopping onto the Elven D’Vaire website to stare at the pictures of the beautiful elf.
Pyxlevir still graced the site with gorgeous photos of him wearing things crafted by the remarkable people in the company.
Like Gramlithyn’s parents. Two other people who haunted him.
Each month he forced himself to call them but kept it strictly to only five minutes, and he didn’t offer any clues about where he was or give them any insight into his plans.
It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt them, but if they knew the truth about why he’d left, any respect they had for him would disappear anyway.
It’d be a stretch to say that Gramlithyn was doing his best. A big stretch.
More accurately, Gramlithyn was wasting away his days while he pretended his heart and soul didn’t ache.
He had no goals. No proper plan was made for anything.
For six years, he’d survived from day to day.
That was it. Somehow, he managed it without either him or his zebra going insane, which was a feat in itself.
“Where the fuck is this guy?” Dasan muttered.
It was too dark to interpret the emotion in his gaze, but Gramlithyn imagined his irises were pure green without a hint of gray.
His eyes were generally an even mix of both colors, but on the few occasions he’d been pissed in Gramlithyn’s presence his orbs had glittered like polished emeralds.
Not that Gramlithyn knew much about gemstones. But his favorite was aquamarine. It reminded him of Pyxlevir. All the best things in life did.
Before Gramlithyn could fall into his usual trap of thinking wistfully of the best friend he dearly missed, a dark figure approached them, and some of the tension left his shoulders as he recognized the druid.
“Hey guys, sorry I’m late,” the sorcerer said. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, we’ve been ready,” Dasan enthused, his irritation immediately lost in excitement.
“Good, we’ve gotta handle payment first,” the druid replied. “Can’t bring you over there and have you running off before I get my money. You understand, right?”
“Sure,” Gramlithyn said. “My friend here doesn’t belong to the Council, but I do, so I’ll be paying for us both.”
“I don’t care whose account it comes out of,” the druid countered with a shaky laugh. “Tell me your name, and I’ll send you a money request.”
It was rare for Gramlithyn to use his real name.
He’d dumped it for Gram Hippotigris the minute he’d hurt Pyxlevir during their last phone call.
He recalled it with deadly accuracy and cringed internally as it played through his mind at least once a week.
But he had no choice on occasions like tonight since his legal name was printed on his Council card, which served as his source of payment.
“Gramlithyn Verdanyth,” Gramlithyn muttered. Dasan stared at him quizzically. Although the hummingbird had heard Gramlithyn use the name his parents gave him before, he’d offered no explanations and Dasan hadn’t asked any questions. It was one of those things they didn’t discuss.
The druid bowed his head, and his fingers flew over his phone. A second later, Gramlithyn had a money request. It would nearly wipe out the account, but he didn’t hesitate to pay it. As soon as he was in Europe, he’d consider switching to cash and ditching the card forever.
Gramlithyn never got the chance to allow that train of thought out of the station. A hand grasped his arm, and he bared his teeth as a shackle that magically prevented him from shifting was slapped onto his wrist. His zebra screeched in fear.
“Eep,” Dasan let out in a high pitch as a group of fallen knights materialized around them.
The druid offered them a dazzling smile. “I’ll refund your money. You’ll probably need it to buy shit in jail. Have fun, guys.”
Gramlithyn cursed, but the only person he was angry at was himself.
Why hadn’t it occurred to him that the druid would be working with the fallen knights to prevent idiots like him from finding someone stupid enough to teleport them to Europe?
As Gramlithyn and Dasan were escorted to a nearby vehicle, he dearly hoped no one would alert the Reverent Knights or their Venerable Knights.
∞∞∞
Luck didn’t favor Gramlithyn. That was his lone thought as the door to the interrogation room opened to reveal two pissed-off fallen knights.
To his shock, an almost overwhelming sense of relief filled Gramlithyn at the sight of two familiar and beloved faces.
Although he’d missed home, he hadn’t understood the depth of that pain until he was close to his former family again.
Without a word, Reverent Knight Conley Gylde-Kempe flipped a chair around and straddled it.
His other half, Drystan, remained standing.
Drystan crossed his arms and narrowed his scaly black eyes as the pair stared at Gramlithyn.
It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night; their uniforms were perfectly pressed.
Gramlithyn was sorry they’d been yanked out of bed because of his foolishness. But his immediate concern was for his friend. He hadn’t been allowed to see or speak with Dasan since they’d been hauled into the fallen knight station closest to whatever tiny town they had met the druid in.
“Where is Dasan?” Gramlithyn asked.
“That’s it?” Drystan barked. “It’s been six fucking years, and your first question is where is your partner in crime?”
“Sorry.”
“For what?” Conley demanded. “For trying to break the fucking law or ignoring your parents for six years?”
Gramlithyn huffed out a breath and hunched his shoulders. “I haven’t ignored them. We talk on the phone.”
“Once a fucking month,” Drystan countered. “And you haven’t told them shit. What are they going to think when they find out that you’ve been arrested?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t called them yet,” Gramlithyn muttered.
“If it wasn’t three in the morning I would have already, but the last thing I want to do is wake them up to tell them the shit their kid is up to,” Conley retorted, his gold gaze boring into Gramlithyn’s soul. “What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know,” Gramlithyn replied weakly. “I should’ve known Killian wouldn’t have any employees willing to get arrested just so people could go to Europe.”