Chapter 6
After a restless night in a bedroom small enough that it made his former cell at the compound seem roomy, Ducarius stalked out into the hallway and closed his eyes.
He preferred to be prepared in every situation, so the moment the castle had quieted the previous night, he’d trekked through every floor to memorize the layout.
The necromancer creeping closer to death had an expansive suite that took up an entire floor.
Barring the multi-story library, no other space was as large.
Ducarius could not blame the man for preferring comfort; he already missed the large bed waiting for him at home.
That thought had a mixture of longing and guilt burrowing into Ducarius.
If he’d known that he’d be taking a one-way trip to another realm for an indeterminate time, Ducarius would have sent a message to his family.
They had to be worried, and Ducarius hated that any of them would waste a single resource searching for him.
But there was nothing Ducarius could do about it.
And he didn’t regret his decision. While Ducarius had often repeated that he was in no hurry to find his mate, everything changed the moment he met Drexley.
Ducarius knew nothing about Drexley except where he’d been for the past five centuries, but he was determined to get to know the other sentinel.
With a grin, Ducarius focused on his abilities and trekked through the old castle as he used his senses to track his other half.
It disturbed Ducarius that Drexley had been stuck somewhere without his permission, and he wondered if he was aware of the pull on his memory.
If Alaric’s memories could be counted on—and the Lich Sentinel was not known for his mistakes—Drexley had gone straight from the compound to disappear with Adney, who the necromancers had assumed was dead.
With no experience outside a realm without a spell draining his ability to store anything long-term, Drexley could be blissfully unaware that Adney had opted to manipulate his realm in that manner.
Was it something that worked on Adney, or was it cast to hurt Drexley and any other resurrected being?
Ducarius wished he could call Chander to ask for his expertise, but it was impossible.
Ducarius was surprised to find Adney waiting in the hall.
“Ah, Ducarius, I wondered if we could have a chat,” Adney said with a smile Ducarius did not trust.
With nothing but a nod, Ducarius followed Adney into a nearby room that served as the necromancer’s office.
“Please have a seat,” Adney invited.
Again, Ducarius chose silence as he planted himself in a chair. Adney leaned heavily on a cane as he shuffled around his desk and arranged himself carefully in a wooden chair better suited to the medieval era.
“It warms my heart that you find my home comfortable enough to dispense with wearing your cloak today,” Adney remarked with another devious grin.
“I followed the examples set by you and Drexley and kept my cloak off,” Ducarius stated.
“Ah, I see. Your desire to conform to the standards I have set is commendable. We did not get off to the best start yesterday, but since you have arrived at my home without an invitation, I assume you will not mind answering a few questions.”
“My arrival at your home was an accident, and I apologize for the intrusion,” Ducarius replied.
He did not want to offend the necromancer, but it wasn’t his fault he’d fallen into Adney’s realm.
It was the crumbling magic of the man’s spells and Ducarius’s uncharacteristic clumsiness that had led him to Adney’s home, but the sentinel didn’t regret the trip.
Ducarius was finally under the same roof as his mate, and he’d also answered the last remaining mystery of the sentinels by finding Drexley.
“If I can set your mind at ease by answering a few questions, I am happy to be of service.”
The last thing Ducarius wanted to do was alienate the necromancer, so he was willing to provide some reasonable information to the man.
“You mentioned that the Arch Lich broke the bond between sentinels and necromancers.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Have you kept in touch with your necromancer since the split?”
“My necromancer is dead,” Ducarius said, his voice level despite the intense hatred he carried for the evil man.
Ducarius’s life was far too wonderful to waste a moment reminiscing about the horrid years he had served under Gautselin’s horrid command.
Gautselin had died long ago and had likely left behind little more than a long list of enemies.
“Did you kill him?”
Amused, Ducarius nearly smiled. “Even if I were capable of lying, which I am not, do you think me such a fool that I would casually admit to murdering anyone to someone I met yesterday?”
“Do you expect me to believe that you lack the ability to be dishonest?”
Ducarius frowned, though he wasn’t angry. He was thoroughly confused. “Every sentinel lacks the ability to lie. It is part of our creation spell. I assumed every necromancer was aware of that, but perhaps your isolation is to blame for your lack of information.”
“Can anyone back up this claim?”
“It is the Arch Lich who took it upon himself to spread the word long before he aided us in gaining our freedom.”
Adney smiled, and it was the first genuine one Ducarius had witnessed in their brief acquaintance. “I cannot miss the respect in your voice for the Arch Lich. I worried when you spoke of Alaric yesterday by the title he gave himself that a large chasm now divided sentinels and necromancers.”
“I detect no lie in your voice. Why do you believe so intensely that the Lich Sentinel was not a title given by Fate?”
“You believe yourself capable of detecting lies?”
“How have you lived with a sentinel for five hundred years and know so little about our people?” Ducarius asked.
“A rather offensive question.”
“I did not mean it to be,” Ducarius answered honestly. “I am confounded by your ignorance.”
“And I am taken aback by your rudeness. I was willing to accept your statement about your lack of dishonesty, but I now realize you may very well be manipulating me by suggesting it is my Arch Lich who has made such claims. How can I take your word for it? We have just met.”
“I am afraid you must draw your own conclusions,” Ducarius replied.
He did not trust Adney, and he refused to explain his title, give the man his last name, or inform the necromancer that he was part of Chander’s family.
There was something wrong with the dynamic between Adney and Drexley.
The necromancer knew nothing about sentinels, which did not speak of good communication between the pair, and Ducarius did not trust a man willing to manipulate people’s memories with magic.
Nor did he like a necromancer who believed himself superior to anyone else—especially a race once imprisoned and abused by Adney’s people.
Not to mention that Adney had calmly suggested that he didn’t believe Fate had granted sentinels mates.
And Ducarius had yet to process the way Drexley had calmly stated that their own Lich Sentinel had manufactured his title or that sentinels should be under the thumb of necromancers. The lone place Drexley would have developed such ideas was under Adney’s roof.
“Fine. Now, I must request that while you are in my realm, you do not walk around armed. This is a peaceful place. Weapons and training are forbidden here.”
“Mr. Blackwell, I am stuck here against my will thanks to your magic, but I remain a sentinel. One beholden to no one save the Lich Sentinel and the Emperors that rule the Council of Sorcery and Shifters. I go nowhere without my daggers.”
Adney’s brows drew together, and his frown was severe. “The Arch Lich rules the Council of Sorcery. There are no shifters in our government.”
“Five hundred years ago that information was correct. But two centuries ago, the Arch Lich united magickind and shifters. To facilitate the merger and hoping to accomplish his personal goals, the Arch Lich stepped down and handed the mantle to the ruler of the dragons.”
“The last thing I expected was for the Order of Necromancia to fall from grace and power,” Adney said, his shoulders slumping.
Ducarius did not understand Adney’s disappointment.
Chander remained an important part of the Council and was one of the most well-respected leaders in it thanks to his many successes.
The Darays were also part of the extensive D’Vaire clan, which included the Emperors too.
The Order of Necromancia was renowned thanks to Chander, not despite the remarkable demonic imp-necromancer hybrid.
Ducarius wondered how Adney would handle knowing Chander wasn’t a full-blood necromancer as he’d believed himself to be five centuries earlier.
Not appreciating the criticism of Chander’s choices, Ducarius crossed his arms and studied the ancient man nearly sulking in his chair over his imagined loss of prestige in a world he’d left behind of his own accord.
Ducarius could’ve provided him with further information about the Council, but he did not bother.
Adney wanted to be superior to everyone, and Ducarius was tired of necromancers with god complexes.
“Do you have any other questions for me?” Ducarius asked, not caring if his voice was brisk with his annoyance.
“The more I learn from you, the less I like. You also refuse to disarm yourself despite me clearing stating it is against the rules of my home. But you will respect my wishes when it comes to my sentinel. Drexley is an educated gentleman, not a dagger-wielding barbarian. Keep your distance from him.”
“A goddess created a matebond between myself and Drexley, yet I doubt even if Fate herself popped into this office and made a similar request of me I would respect it. The only person who can keep me from Drexley is the sentinel in question.”
“You are far too sure of yourself, Ducarius.”
“Perhaps,” Ducarius conceded. “I have faced similar criticism in the past.”
“Yet you choose to do nothing to make yourself amenable to me. A sentinel is nothing but a resurrected assassin with nothing to offer the world if he is unwilling to heed the words of necromancers. With our guidance, you can rise above the primitive form given to you upon your creation.”
“The day is early, and you are likely tiring yourself,” Ducarius said. “Instead of wasting energy trying to convince me sentinels are nothing without blind obedience to necromancers, you should save your energy for worthwhile pursuits.”
“I dislike your attitude, Ducarius.”
Ducarius had offended the necromancer, and that was unfortunate since they were stuck under the same roof. But Ducarius did not like the man. He appeared to be an asshole necromancer, like far too many of Chander’s people. Thankfully, Ducarius was intelligent enough to keep his opinion to himself.
Adney was too close to Drexley for Ducarius to risk alienating him completely with honesty.
Which left Ducarius with no other choice but to remain silent and hopefully avoid any more private chats with the ancient necromancer.
Ducarius’s mission was to get to know Drexley and find out if Fate had paired two compatible people.
Given how many happy couples were in Ducarius’s large extended clan, he believed the odds were good that he and Drexley were a good match.
What Ducarius didn’t know yet was how difficult a mountain he would have to climb to convince the other sentinel that they had a potential future.
Before yesterday, Drexley had apparently been unaware that sentinels even had mates.
Ducarius knew every other sentinel, and they were people who trusted their instincts. But Drexley had spent five centuries in a tiny realm with his memories being manipulated and had been educated by a pompous necromancer with little respect for sentinels.
It was Drexley who’d first touted the idea of Alaric’s supposed fake title to Ducarius.
It was impossible for Ducarius to detect lies from his mate as he could with others, but thankfully, their people were incapable of dishonesty.
Which meant Drexley believed his own words. That made little sense to Ducarius.
Did Drexley not recall being around Alaric at all?
His senses should have reliably detected that Fate had chosen Alaric.
Sentinels—like every other race Ducarius was familiar with—could recognize those granted titles by the goddess.
But five centuries was a long time, and Drexley’s memories were faded by a spell.
Ducarius had to assume that Drexley had no recollection of being in Alaric’s presence.
Ducarius frowned as Adney sighed heavily and—apparently done with his questioning—scuttled out of the room without another word.
For nearly fifteen hundred years, Ducarius had had his memories washed away in the compound.
When Alaric eventually discovered him, he’d recalled only his name and the basics of his abilities.
He’d been virtually a clean slate. One nobody had an opportunity to take advantage of.
Ducarius had gone from a skeleton abandoned behind walls to part of the ruling structure of the Sentinel Brotherhood.
Alaric had allowed each of his men to adapt to the Council as they saw fit.
Ducarius had struggled to assimilate as his memory returned and the horrors he’d committed had invaded his mind.
Eventually, Ducarius had settled into his new life, and he was a happy and grateful person.
But he had a loving family who’d aided him with their constant caring and support.
As Ducarius stood and prepared to hunt down Drexley, he wondered about the future.
It wasn’t just that Ducarius had to convince Drexley to want a matebond; he also wanted to be a shoulder for his other half to lean on as he adjusted to an entirely different reality once the necromancer died.
Both were daunting tasks, but Ducarius was a man willing to take on whatever was necessary to accept his gift from Fate.