Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Death had never affected Wraith as it had others. For many, death was the ending. A finality. A door closing, never to be opened again.
But Wraith knew the truth. A closed door could be opened.
Furthermore, behind that door lay another world, another life even. Someone going through the door was nothing to despair or feel sad about.
Wraith stared at his betrothed, Crown Prince— No. It was King Konrad now.
The dragon king’s head bowed, but his shoulders remained straight and his spine strong. The tall man wore a midnight-black coat and trousers. A crown sat at a slightly skewed angle on his dark brown hair. King Konrad stared at his father’s corpse.
For King Konrad, his father was gone. Dead. There would be no return. It was the end of him.
But King Alaric’s death did not feel final to Wraith. How could it when Wraith could see the dead king standing by his eldest son?
King Alaric Drachen—was he still a king? Or did he lose his title when he died? Wraith was not sure how titles worked regarding the dead. Perhaps he should ask one of the deceased. Although, he doubted they would know. And anyway, there was probably no official way titles worked beyond the grave.
The dead dragon king stared at King Konrad. His form was translucent, made up of grey, white, and black wisps, undulating and swirling constantly. Still, Wraith could clearly identify him.
In the days since his death, the dead king often appeared near his eldest son, like a ghostly shadow of the current living king of Draconia. It was common for spirits to follow those with whom they were closest in life, especially family members with whom they shared blood.
Today, the ghost’s form appeared the clearest Wraith had ever seen him.
No doubt, being so close to his own corpse helped anchor him to this world.
All the blood relatives gathered in one place would also have given him strength.
Blood, bone, and flesh held so much power with the dead.
Not to mention that there was power in royal blood specifically.
“But I thank you all for gathering here to pay your respects and bid farewell to King Alaric Drachen,” the grand monk said.
And as the grand monk officiated, King Alaric Drachen continued speaking to his son. Wraith stood too far away to hear, but it did not look like the dead king was bidding his son farewell.
His lips moved rapidly as he spoke. He gesticulated with jerky movements. He appeared less calm than he had in life.
King Konrad could not see nor hear his father.
Nor, in fact, could the vast majority of necromancers.
Many necromancers could feel or sense the dead.
Some could call on and bind them to a body.
But seeing them and hearing them as clearly as Wraith did was not the norm.
It was a part of his specific skill set, which he’d been born with. It made him an exception. A rarity.
The dead had always writhed and whispered around Wraith. He had never experienced a world without the dead walking around him. It had been normal. As a child, he’d had trouble differentiating the living and the dead, which made life somewhat confusing.
As a toddler, the family nanny had died.
His older brother, Harrow, had been bereft and wailed day and night.
Wraith could not understand why. After all, her ghost still sat in the nursery, singing lullabies like always.
Wraith would sit and fall asleep, listening to her sing, not realising that the nanny should pass through the Bone Door that had appeared near her.
“Now I turn to Princess Senta Drachen and Prince Gerard Drachen.” The grand monk bowed to the green dragons by the pyre. Then he and the monks stepped away.
A musician began to play the psaltery, a harp-like string instrument. A slow and sombre melody filled the air.
The two dragon siblings lumbered forward.
They lowered their thick green necks. Jaws opened wide.
Golden and red dragonfire spewed forth. Wood caught alight.
Flames licked and flickered along the wood.
Soon, the whole pyre burned, and the body of the dead king was consumed in flames.
Grey plumes bellowed into the heavens as smoke filled the air.
Wraith glanced at King Konrad and his father. The ghost did not look at his burning corpse. But the dead often avoided attending to evidence of their demise. Instead, the spirit kept talking to his unhearing son.
The funeral pyre burned. Even from the distance, Wraith could feel the heat. Fire consumed clothes, skin, muscles, and fat. The dragons lifted their head and roared. The air vibrated.
Everyone watched as the flames raged. The music continued. It mingled with the crackling fire. The pyre collapsed. But no one spoke until the fire had died down.
The grand monk stepped forward and stood once more in front of the pyre. He bowed low. The chains around his neck, which marked his rank and vows to the monastic order, swung.
“Thank you for joining today.” The grand monk spread his arms wide. “May peace guide your steps as you go forward.”
People turned and began to walk away. Monks stepped towards the pyre, no doubt waiting for the fire to die away completely. Then they’d probably remove the ash-covered bones and prepare them to be sent to Draconia for burial.
The shadow king and queen of Necros, along with Vex and Harrow, Wraith’s siblings, left the funeral, not glancing or speaking to Wraith even though he’d been standing with them. But he was used to being ignored by his family.
Other funeral attendees departed. Wraith remained. There was nowhere he needed to be at present. Instead, he watched his soon-to-be husband. The man spoke with his siblings. All the while, the dead king kept talking to him.
Wraith wet his lips. A tug in the centre of his chest urged him to step forward and speak to King Alaric. The dead king no longer belonged in this world. He should move on, and Wraith wanted to lead him on. It was his duty.
The funeral attendees dwindled. Wraith should probably leave too.
But perhaps if he stayed where he was, King Konrad would talk to him.
Wraith clasped his hands in front of him, heart rate picking up at the thought. They had not really spoken previously. In fact, they’d barely interacted at all. And yet they were to marry to seal the peace treaty.
He was not sure when it had been decided that the two of them would marry. No one had informed Wraith directly. At some point, his mother had just mentioned the upcoming marriage in passing at dinner. However, it had seemed everyone else already knew. Just no one had bothered to tell Wraith.
King Konrad spoke to his younger brother, Prince Luther, and his husband, Warden Onyx.
Wraith’s gut clenched. The dragon king was handsome. So strong and well respected too. Would he be a good husband to Wraith? Would he be kind? Gentle?
Could he ever care for me?
“Shadow Prince Wraith.”
Wraith blinked. When had the grand monk approached him? Had he been standing there and waiting for Wraith to acknowledge him?
“Grand Monk,” he said in greeting.
The grand monk looked at the monks attending to the pyre and the remains. “It is a tragic day. We have lost a great leader. A king who strove for peace.”
Wraith supposed that was true. Although, the dragon king had also continued the war his mother had started. That did not seem to Wraith like striving for peace.
“Are you prepared for your upcoming nuptials?” the grand monk asked.
Honestly, Wraith wasn’t sure. He did not know how to prepare for a wedding to someone he’d barely spoken to.
Then again, he did not know how to prepare for a wedding to someone he had spoken to.
He was not sure what preparations were required for a wedding in general.
He’d never been married before and never considered what could be involved.
So Wraith simply remained silent.
“I apologise that your courtship rituals will be rushed. But as you know, it is important to quickly finalise the marriages to seal the peace treaty given the current circumstances,” the grand monk said.
This was news to Wraith. He was not aware they were rushing the courtship rituals, which were meant to help the couple become better acquainted. Once again, he hadn’t been told.
Or maybe he’d been told but forgotten. Wraith tended to forget things, or he sometimes got confused between the words of the living and the dead. And you could never trust the words of the dead. They got so easily confused. Kind of like Wraith.
But it was not uncommon for the shadow king and queen to make plans without consulting him. Wraith was just expected to follow them, even if he hadn’t been explicitly informed.
Two pigeons flew down and landed on the recently trodden grass. The grand monk reached into a pouch hanging from his belt. He scattered seed. For several moments, they stood and watched the pigeons peck.
“Many despise and look down on pigeons. They see these birds as dirty, carriers of disease,” the grand monk said. “But did you know that a dove and a pigeon are practically the same bird? They are closely related.”
Wraith did not know that. But he’d never thought much about pigeons or doves. They, like most birds, usually passed on very quickly when they died. He supposed pigeons and doves looked similar now that he thought of it, although with obviously different colourings.
“When I joined the Monks of the Way of the Dove, all I wanted was to assist the lost, the starving, the hungry, the displaced, the forgotten, and the outcasts of the world.” The grand monk threw more seed. “Everything I do now is to create a better world for all.”
The grand monk kept speaking, but Wraith’s attention turned to King Konrad as he walked towards them. Wraith tensed.
King Konrad drew nearer. Wraith stared at him, hoping to catch his eye. Perhaps they’d share a word or two. He held his breath.
But the king strode straight past Wraith, gaze ahead, talking to one of his half-siblings.
No doubt the dragon king had much on his mind at present, especially since this was his father’s funeral. It was expected he’d be uninterested in talking to Wraith today.
“This treaty cannot fail,” the dead king said to his son as he trailed after him. “Our bloodline must be saved!” But King Konrad did not hear his father. Only Wraith did.
Draconian guards followed the group, and the dead king’s voice faded.
Wraith turned his attention back to the grand monk.
“I know it has been hard for everyone recently.” The grand monk threw another handful of seed to the pigeons.
More flew down. “But I believe everything we do will be worth it in the end when true peace is obtained. We must all strive to achieve it. Only then will everything work out for the good of the kingdoms.”
Wraith glanced after his future husband as he walked away. He hoped his marriage with the dragon king would work out too.