Chapter 11 Thwarted
~ DONAVYN ~
Tato, the healer Furyknight, stepped back, looking solemn, stroking his dragon, Nila’s, leg and watching her.
‘He will live if he chooses to,’ Kgosi intoned in my head.
I nodded, relieved. But unable to relax.
An hour earlier, Kgosi had sent Akhane away, because her distress affected the sick male. And of course, Bren went with her.
Please, let her be waiting. Don’t let her run, I prayed. I could sense her quite close. She hadn’t left. But I could feel her anger and hurt and restlessness, too.
“It’s up to him, now,” Tato said softly, shaking his head. Kgosi rumbled, and I drew Tato away, towards the stables, leaving Kgosi with the sick dragon.
“Kgosi thinks we’ll know tomorrow, one way or the other,” I said quietly, looking at the now-dark sky.
Tato nodded, his gaze focused in the distance.
“You can’t imagine what Ciar’s going through.
Nila tells me that they feel everything we feel.
So, imagine, he’s not only had to decide his rider deserved death, he’s felt every moment of the execution that he undertook himself.
I… God, help us,” Tato whispered at the end, shivering.
Nila groaned and turned her head to brush him with her snout as we continued to walk.
I urged him to take his dragon and do whatever was needed for both of them to rest. Tato thanked me and mounted immediately, I watched them fly off together, my heart aching.
Healers were extremely empathetic, and sometimes over-burdened by the weight of their abilities.
Part of the supernatural healing gift, I’d learned, was the dragon and his bonded rider taking on a portion of the pain and struggle of those they healed.
It was why healing couldn’t always be guaranteed: It wasn’t only the wounded who needed strength to endure it, but those whose power was offered to help them, as well.
I’d learned to encourage healing pairs to take time alone, resting, after they’d helped others. Especially in cases like this.
The unmistakable whomph-whomph-whomph of dragon wings battered the air over our heads.
I looked up to watch the silhouette of three massive dragon bodies cross over the moon on their way to land behind me.
Kgosi must have called others in the herd to come stand vigil with their herdmate.
My dragon had warned me that I wouldn’t see him, and he wouldn’t fly, until they knew if Ciar would live the night.
I swallowed. I didn’t want the dragon to die. But knowing he’d judged his own rider meant that the man had either done something so despicable that the dragon deemed it unforgiveable—or the man had betrayed the dragon to his deepest core.
Knowing what this man had done just months ago to Bren, I was certain he’d deserved the execution. But the dragon? He didn’t deserve the pain and loss he now suffered. Not if his heart was still good.
I’d heard about the curse, as the dragons termed it. The gravity with which they took judgment. But I’d never seen it with my own eyes.
That dragon had only made the attack days ago, yet he was already wasting away.
Even if he chose to live, he’d likely never be the same.
It was as if, upon his death, his rider had ripped something essential from the dragon.
I put a hand to my chest, feeling the pang there where Kgosi was present in me.
His pain, his worry, his authority and desire to protect…
it was all there. A part of me. And me a part of him, or so he said.
If we were torn apart violently, it appeared we didn’t get those pieces back.
My dragon made me more vital. Stronger. Made my body heal more quickly. He shared the sheer life that burned inside of his massive body with me.
What did I share with him?
Nothing of as much value as that, I thought—once again humbled as I was presented with yet another example of how the dragons lowered themselves to bond us.
‘I don’t know why you do it,’ I sent to Kgosi. ‘But I am very, very glad that you do.’
‘I love you, too, Donavyn,’ Kgosi returned, his tone weary, but sincere.
I almost smiled. But the weight of this day, the chill of fear, overwhelmed even the warming nature of my dragon’s devotion. I sighed heavily as I tromped up the slope of the launch hollow towards the stables. But, now alone, I picked up the pace of my strides, hurrying to reach Bren.
I felt sick. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to tell her who the dragon belonged to until we were alone, and I could hold her. Instead, she’d been forced to hear that out in the open, when I couldn’t even touch her.
Thank God for Akhane, who had explained, Kgosi assured me.
But thoughts of the now-dead rider only raised the specter of everything before us.
This was irrefutable evidence that problems existed in the squad we’d sent to Draeventhall. Evidence that didn’t touch Bren at all.
The men were a Shadowfang mission squad, picked for their skills in subterfuge and the ability to ingratiate themselves to a wide variety of people.
Knowing there were rumors afoot in Draeventhall, we’d sent them in, investigating the inconsistency among the reports.
But it was before I’d realized there must be a mole.
All we’d known was that the whispering of war, and proof of a plot had been uncovered.
Those men had been trusted. Above others. Trusted with information hidden even from nobles and Furyknights.
Yet, a dragon had judged one of them unforgivable.
A flare of rage braided through a tidal wave of self-doubt in my chest, leaving my heart battered between the two.
How had I gotten it so wrong?
And how would I fix this?
As I traversed the launch hollow, and then the sparse grass and rocky dirt at the stables, I formed a plan.
Ciar’s judgment meant I could raise concerns about this squad without telling Alexi what had happened to Bren. And that meant we could suspend this farce of a spy mission for Bren and go after these fuckers instead. I had no doubt they had the answers we needed.
As soon as I was certain Bren was safe in my quarters, I’d attend the king.
Resolute, anger still churning in my chest, but now tamped tight by determination, I marched into the stable, whistling to one of the stableboys nodding off on a stool at the intersection of aisles.
I was distracted for a blink by the boy’s face. It took a moment to remember he was the youth who’d questioned Bren the day she was Chosen. Benji.
“Benji. Wake up. ” The lad startled and leaped to his feet. I ignored the fact that he’d been sleeping. “I need a messenger, right away. One with knowledge of the palace. Tell them to find me in Kgosi’s stable. Go.”
The boy's eyes widened, but he darted away without another word.
Since I was passing the tack room anyway, I diverted for a moment to check that Kgosi’s travel harness had been oiled recently, and the saddlebags were empty and clean.
I nodded when I found them as they should be, and jogged back out of the room and up the aisle towards my dragon’s stable that he shared with Akhane, where I prayed my mate would be.
But the moment I slid the massive stable door back to find Akhane curled up in the straw, and no sign of Bren, the sound of pattering bare feet on stone reached me.
“Sir! Sir! He was on the grounds outside, Sir!” Benji called to me as he ran. “And he knows the king’s runners.”
Where the fuck was Bren?
Grinding my teeth with unease and impatience, I turned to face the two boys sprinting towards me and waited for them to arrive, panting.
The runner slid to a halt, his narrow chest heaving, but he straightened his blonde head and stood to attention.
Benji, inches shorter than him, though apparently older than his stature would suggest, mimicked the messenger’s posture, but eyed him from the side as if he wasn’t sure he was doing it correctly.
“I can carry a message, Sir,” the messenger said, his voice cracking.
“Very good. At ease, both of you,” I said wryly. Both boys relaxed and glanced at each other, then to me. I focused on the messenger. “I need you to carry a very important message to the palace, and it can only be delivered to the king’s man. Do you know who that is?”
“Yes, sir,” the messenger said, awed. “But to reach him I have to enter the royal wing and the guards—”
“I’ll send Benji with you, and you’re both telling them that I sent this message through you because the need was dire, and that on my authority you should be escorted to the king and given a return message with instructions immediately. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes, sir!” they chimed in unison.
I nodded. “Very good. Benji, your responsibility in this is very simple. When the guard questions if our friend here is truly on a mission to the king, you tell them that he is sent by Kgosi, and that you were personally tasked by me to tell them that, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Then you, son, when you’re escorted to the king, you’ll tell him that I believe the time has come to call Conclave.
That I am present with Kgosi, but will attend him at the time of his choosing.
And that I request he send a return message with you to inform me of that time. Now please, repeat that back to me.”
The boy swallowed audibly. “The message for the king is that you, the Battle Commander, are calling for Conclave, and that you request the king’s return message with the time you should attend.”
“Yes. Don’t forget to tell him that I am present with Kgosi, but will leave to attend his Majesty.”
Kgosi was merely a code word to let the king know that I placed my highest authority behind these words, though the boys wouldn’t know that.
It was why I sent a messenger. An adult Furyknight or guard might deduce which part of the message was code.
The boys would simply believe that my dragon’s name opened doors no one else could.