Chapter 3
Present Day
Five centuries had passed since Drexley had arrived at Adney’s home and they’d moved to his personal realm.
Drexley had not recovered the memory stripped from him in the compound, and he no longer cared about that place.
In fact, he barely recalled why he’d stuck so long to his sentinel routines.
Drexley had eventually decided that it was his horrible isolation in his cell that had had him clinging so hard to training and creeping around in a uniform.
Drexley had evolved far from that lonely, sad version of himself.
No longer a mindless assassin, Drexley was a gentleman and a scholar.
A refined and educated man thanks to his love of reading and Adney’s vast library.
But the peace Drexley had found was crumbling.
So was the realm Adney had painstakingly built in his youth.
There was no mystery why the land was eroding and things no longer ran smoothly.
Adney was an old man and edged closer to death with each passing day.
Drexley had lost his soul connection to the necromancer, but even without his senses, it was impossible to ignore the inevitable demise of his dear friend.
What remained a mystery was how their bond had been severed. On an otherwise normal afternoon, Drexley had collapsed and awoken with complete freedom. Was the damage done unique to Adney and Drexley, or had every sentinel and necromancer pair experienced something similar?
Being without the connection had changed little.
Adney had not issued orders to Drexley in years.
They were far too in sync to require such a barbaric tool.
With no desire to communicate with the outside world, Drexley and Adney had decided not to pursue a full investigation into the destruction of the bond that had connected their souls.
Instead, they focused on living. Which was fine until Adney’s magic weakened along with his body. Now, Drexley lived with constant and growing dread.
A deep, wrenching cough caught Drexley’s attention and yanked his concern for himself to his dear friend. He rushed into the library and laid a consoling hand on Adney’s bowed back.
“Ah, Drexley,” Adney croaked.
“Focus on catching your breath,” Drexley instructed as he led Adney to a cushioned chair. Adney lowered himself into the seat, and Drexley set his walking stick within reach so the necromancer could easily grab it once he was ready to get to his feet again.
“What would I do without you?” Adney asked, his voice weak.
“You need to rest more.”
“I can rest when I am dead. My days are numbered, and I still have work to do.”
Drexley hated the reminder that Adney would cross the veil soon. Not for the first time, Drexley wished he were a necromancer so he could return his friend to his side. But as a sentinel, he was as useless as the withering skeletons working in their castle.
“If you drop dead in this library because you refuse to pay attention to how fatigued you have grown, nothing will get done and this entire place will crumble into nothing.”
“Sit and stop hovering over me,” Adney ordered.
Drexley did as he was told and settled into the sturdy chair next to Adney.
Adney patted Drexley’s hand. “I know you are worried, and I wish I could do something about your unease. My death grows closer every day. There is no denying it. And you will be left to pick up the pieces. My realm will be gone. I assume the magic that created you will drag you to the compound again. With our connection lost, I do not know if another necromancer will get you. But I hope no matter what happens you will stay true to the man you have become.”
“Not even a strong spell like the draining of memory at the compound will have me picking up weapons or training like a mindless murderer. That is not who I am any longer.”
“Remember that Alaric cannot be trusted. I suspect he will not wait long to show up to befriend you. It was his mission while you lived there before.”
“Alaric is not my friend.”
“Nor is he the leader of the sentinels.”
“No, we are meant to be led by the necromancers.”
“I wish I could send you directly to the Arch Lich. From everything I heard about the man, he was a diligent and devoted leader. And he kept his sentinels at his side as best he could. I believe he could be trusted to care for you and give you a life befitting a gentleman. But five centuries have passed since we left my former planet. I do not know if he is alive or if the Council survived.”
“And my existence is magical. Everything is out of my control. Without my permission, I will be dragged back to a cage and expected to mindlessly follow the rules of the compound,” Drexley groused.
“I wish I could live forever for your sake, but that is not an option,” Adney mused. “You must not vex yourself though. You will persevere, no matter the circumstances. I believe in you. Have the same faith in yourself and stay true to who you have become.”
“Do not worry about me, Adney. I will take care of myself,” Drexley said, dearly hoping he was right.
With so much of his future up in the air, Drexley had no clue how he would fare.
It was nearly impossible to imagine another necromancer in Adney’s place, and Drexley didn’t want to serve anyone else.
Nor did he want to find himself stuck in a cage at the compound.
But he had been created by magic and had no choice in his future.
It was infuriating and terrifying. Drexley shut his mind from traveling that road any further.
What he needed most was to stay rooted in the present.
To enjoy the moments he had left with Adney.
“Of course you will. Now, bring me the book I put on my desk. I will read it here until my strength returns.”
Happy to help, Drexley rose and plucked the tome off Adney’s desk.
After handing it to Adney, he grabbed a thick blanket he had added to the library years ago and laid it over the necromancer’s lap.
Once he was sure the man was comfortable, he left the library and ordered the skeleton in the kitchen to bring Adney a hot cup of tea.
They could only keep a tiny staff of skeletons now thanks to Adney’s dwindling power, and the temporary spell that brought them to life eroded faster with each resurrection. But Drexley didn’t fear hard work. Without a large staff, he completed many tasks Adney complained were beneath him.
But Drexley was unbothered by handling whatever was necessary. It was the least he could do to aid his dying necromancer. Physical activity was welcome. It helped Drexley keep his mind off the future and how devastating it was to think of a world without Adney.
∞∞∞
Following a satisfying hour in one of the gyms at the Daray Sentinel Complex, which housed most of the sentinels that had once dwelled unhappily in the compound, Skeleton Lord Ducarius Daray teleported to his bedroom.
A smile curved his lips as voices reached his ears.
While he was upstairs in the sanctuary of the gray monstrosity he’d designed to live in, his family was downstairs enjoying themselves.
Eager to join them, Ducarius shed his cloak and used the tiny amount of magic at his disposal to put it away in his closet.
With nothing covering his daggers—which bore the two-toned poison that had been granted to him by the ruler of his people—Ducarius left his bedroom.
The gorgeous condo decorated in shades of teal and brown was full of men—most of them undead.
Whether a Daray was resurrected or not made no difference to any of them.
They were a unit. One forged by love and respect.
“Fuck you, Bax,” Venerable Knight Arvandus Ruarc-Daray’s voice cut through the din of men excitedly catching up on their days.
Arvandus was one of the first fallen knights—a race created and resurrected by Arch Lich Chander Daray.
The fallen knight was also the only man to be permanently pulled from the other side of the veil twice.
Once a sentinel, Arvandus had been cruelly beheaded in front of his mate, Skeleton Lord Albrecht Ruarc Daray.
Like Ducarius, Albrecht had been a skeleton.
After the death of Ducarius’s necromancer, the walls of the ugly compound they’d called home had formed around him, and his existence had narrowed to nothing more than sitting in a room for countless centuries.
Alaric had changed that. He’d freed Ducarius and the other four skeletons.
Together with two sentinels named Gavrael and Gedeon D’Vaire, Alaric had discovered them.
But Alaric hadn’t stopped there. He’d given the five skeletons, and the mated D’Vaire sentinels, an unparalleled honor—he’d asked them to aid him as leader.
Ducarius had become part of the Skeleton Seven and received the title Skeleton Lord.
It remained one of the highlights of Ducarius’s life.
But nothing compared to having a family, and the Darays were the best. At the head of the family was Alaric himself along with his formidable mate, Chander.
Including the pets and goblins gifted to Alaric by Chander, there were now twenty-seven Darays, and it made for a crowded dinner table, but Ducarius loved it.
“What has Baxter done now?” Ducarius asked once he was settled in his chair and the food was being passed around. It had been prepared by their housekeeper and the most recently mated member of their family, Cinder Lord-mate Victor Antonov-Daray.
“What hasn’t he done,” Albrecht grumbled.
“I can’t repeat what he said unless you want to talk about dicks at the table,” Arvandus added.