Chapter 34 #2
“Fuck this shit,” Chander exclaimed, bringing his hand heavily down on the counter.
Several people, including Drexley, jumped.
“There are no levels to being victimized. You either are or you are not. A part of you may always remain that likes Adney. Because you had things in common and he treated you like family when you couldn’t remember all the bad shit he did.
But don’t you dare put anyone else’s suffering on a pedestal.
Trauma is trauma. End of story. Sentinels downplay their pain.
It’s innate. Probably because your need to protect and defend is overdeveloped.
But you have to learn to cope like every other survivor.
And the path forward is not by pretending that someone else has a bigger slice of pain, so you should get the fuck over what happened to you.
Do you understand, Drexley? Does every fucking body in this condo hear what I’m saying? ”
“He is yelling now, of course we can hear him,” Cassius muttered to Teverild, who shushed him with a chuckle.
“I apologize—”
Chander held up a hand. “Save it, Drexley. Say sorry to yourself, not me. I am mad for you, not at you.”
“For all that Adney was wrong about, he believed that you were destined to be the best Arch Lich in history,” Drexley said. “He was right.”
“Alaric, tell him to stop complimenting me,” Chander ordered as Alaric wrapped his arms around his other half. “I’m not good with that shit.”
“Which makes me wonder what the hell Alaric is doing in his matebond,” Baxter said. “You two have been together for decades; doesn’t he ever compliment you? I tell Ben stuff about his—”
“If you mention Ben’s dick or your own, I will use your mate’s dagger to sever your head from your neck,” Ducarius threatened.
Baxter scowled and crossed his arms. “Using one of Ben’s daggers is taking it a step too far.”
“I don’t understand how you’re cool with being murdered as long as it’s not Ben’s dagger,” Teverild interjected.
Ignoring everyone else, Alaric’s glowing gaze met Drexley’s. “What I am most sorry for is that you must carry your full memories of Adney’s realm and you lack the chance to question your former necromancer about his decisions.”
“Not true,” Chander said. “If Drexley wants answers, we can shadow walk. I’ll march right into Adney’s face and stand there as long as you need to squeeze every bit of truth out of him.”
Drexley did not doubt the Arch Lich. His pewter eyes blazed with determination and anger, but Drexley did not have questions for Adney.
The necromancer had wanted a realm that served him fully.
Adney had not met his mate. His only son had died.
Drexley could recall his terror about whatever he had left behind at Blackwell Manor.
Adney had believed he was in danger. So, he had left his old life behind.
Perhaps he did not want to be alone, and that was why he had summoned his sentinel.
Or he feared being followed somehow, and that had lessened as the years bled into decades.
The reasons behind Adney’s choices were irrelevant because nothing would change the past. What mattered to Drexley was his future.
Suddenly, he could not fight his urge to smile.
For so long, the horror of what awaited Drexley had paralyzed him.
But he understood now. Five centuries without deciding for himself had stunted his ability to believe he was capable of surviving.
But he was. And Drexley planned to do things his own way.
It started with the job awaiting him on Monday morning.
Drexley was a sentinel, but he also had a different education from his peers.
That, coupled with his love of books, meant he could act as a confident liaison to aid the Sentinel Brotherhood and the Council. However, at heart, he was a sentinel.
And he had missed the feel of weapons in his hands.
“Alaric, how do sentinels get their weapons?”
The Lich Sentinel lifted a brow. “At your resurrection, the machine that created us provided them. But now, Chand adds new people to our population, and Madeline crafts daggers for us.”
Without a word, Alaric marched out of the kitchen in his vibrant green-and-black jammies. He disappeared into the office he shared with Chander and emerged a minute later with a set of daggers. But they were not his. They lacked poison, and he immediately handed them to Drexley.
“Have no fear, I had Madeline make this for you the day you returned with Duc,” Alaric said.
There on each curved blade was Drexley’s name emblazoned by the spell unique to Alaric to protect every sentinel from being harmed by their own weapons.
“But I told you that Drexley did not carry weapons,” Ducarius stated. “I recall mentioning that not every sentinel needed to.”
“Yep, heard it,” Baxter added. “We were there. Heard it crystal clear. Didn’t know how you could say it because that’s a total fucking lie, but I heard it.”
“Duc believed it, which is why he said it,” Alaric stated.
“He learned it from Drexley, who also believed it. But nowhere in my fucking soul did I ever buy it. Because I know how each of my men has suffered. Five hundred years with a necromancer and he never let Drexley return once. Bax. Ben. Do you remember how I had to ban you from visiting the compound? You had a home here with Chand. But still you visited.”
“Yeah, we were friends with you,” Benton replied.
“Pretty vain to think Drexley wanted to come back just to chat with you, Alaric,” Baxter said. “I mean, we love you, but seriously, maybe he had a good life and couldn’t be bothered.”
Alaric glared. “Gavrael and Gedeon also had a great life. One in a mansion. With endless money at their disposal. But the second they understood from Conley that they could help their fellow sentinels, they were at the compound trying to convince me to come talk to Chand. Why? Because we are individuals, but we are also a brotherhood. We care about each other. We traipsed around this planet for decades searching for Drexley. None of you had met him. But you worried about him. Now, try to convince me that Drexley was somewhere by himself and did not once think about us. I will not believe your piddling attempts, but I dare you to try.”
“Boom,” Arvandus shouted. “The Lich Sentinel just dropped the microphone on every damn sentinel in here.”
“Seriously, Chand, something must have corrupted your spell as you resurrected him,” Alaric groused.
“Alaric, even when I was convinced it was near impossible for the sentinels to have a leader, I brought you up on a regular basis to Adney,” Drexley confided.
“I knew his opinion. I understood how much he hated to discuss you. At the same time, I loved him and considered him family. But I talked about you despite how much it annoyed him. You are right. I could not forget. His spell was not strong enough to erase everything like the one at the compound.”
Exhilaration rushed through Drexley as he held the freshly made daggers Alaric had handed him.
With a grin, he poisoned them, and they glowed the same bright green Fate had used to mark the Lich Sentinel’s eyes—probably to keep necromancers like Adney from doubting his role.
Drexley whispered a word, and the blades floated at his sides. He was whole again.
“I still love my clothes,” Drexley said.
“I told you the other day you could wear whatever you want,” Alaric replied, exasperated. “You know I did not lie.”
“Sorry if he thought you were going to haul out a box of uniforms,” Baxter retorted with his mouth full of cookies. Benton slapped the back of Baxter’s head.
“Swallow first,” Benton complained.
“Shit, a terrible joke just popped into my head,” Arvandus said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Bax is corrupting me.”
Drexley chuckled. “Fallen knights are as incorruptible as sentinels. But I am curious whether they fight as well as we do.”
“They don’t,” Alaric retorted. “Arvandus is marginally better than his peers, but only because he was once a sentinel.”
“They’re probably going to run off and train now despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night,” Chander remarked.
“If they do, I’m going back to bed,” Teverild said. “I can watch that shit anytime.”
It was tempting to find the nearest gym to drag out his rusty skills, but Drexley wanted a little time for his emotions to settle. To allow his memories of the truth and what he had believed to merge fully so he could start mending.
Drexley would never forget Adney, and part of him remained mired in grief.
They had been family. Knowing Adney’s choices did not change that.
It did not mean Drexley understood or approved of Adney’s decisions.
Drexley excused none of it. Nor did the happy moments outweigh the manipulation. It did not.
But even in families, a bit of evil sometimes rested.
Thankfully, the Darays were not one of those families, and Drexley needed not fear for tomorrow.
Mindful of the weapons at his sides, Drexley stood and walked straight into Ducarius’s arms. The scars would mend, and the past would lose its ability to inflict new wounds.
That much Drexley already knew. Because he was resilient.
He was a sentinel, after all. A race of men renowned for their weapon skills.
And the brotherhood that bound them together.
“I love you,” Drexley said, grateful that the greatest of his abilities was the telepathy and emotion sharing Fate had granted him and his mate.
“I love you too. Want to sneak upstairs?”
Since the Darays were arguing about the merits of staying up all night or getting sleep, Drexley did not think anyone would notice if he and Ducarius opted to snuggle in their sheets.
“Absolutely. I will put my weapons away if you will grab the lube.”
“As always, love, you read my mind.”
With a smile, Drexley grabbed Ducarius’s hand and rushed upstairs so he could have the gorgeous Skeleton Lord to himself.