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1520

The Council Monthly Dance

In nothing but a pair of loose low-slung pants, Killian breathed out a sigh of relief as he exhausted the last of his ample magic to produce a vast sea of mulberry trees. The long gold belt with its embellishments of leaves and berries hanging past the knees of his braies jingled as he stretched. He almost unconsciously swayed to the vibrant music Kaedan and Saura were singing on the other side of the enormous field they used for their monthly gatherings.

Tonight, he would sleep well. Most other nights, he did not. His mind was preoccupied with worries. Killian feared for his people and every soul in The Council. He could also not stop himself from thinking about the man he’d handed a stack of magical paper to in 1369. But he tried hard not to remember him.

Details about Dravyn remained trapped in his memory. But Killian refused to acknowledge—even as he stood under the bright moon dressed in trousers the color of the dragon’s eyes—that he wanted his mate back. Adjusting the thin coronet of gilded foliage sitting atop the tangled mess of his hair, Killian wondered what Dravyn would think if he could see him now.

Would the vines wrapping Killian from head to toe scare him or make him shudder in distaste? Despite the merry atmosphere around him, Killian scowled. It didn’t matter what Dravyn thought or if he ran away in fear. Killian was proud of the druid he’d become, and he pushed himself constantly as the threat of dragon fire plagued his people and their entire government.

With his work complete for the night, he watched with satisfaction as a horde of skeletons picked ripe mulberries and handed them out to anyone interested in adding them to their food stores. Chander was efficient in creating enough helpers each month as thousands gathered to dance, get food, and for one night set aside their troubles. With help from Kaedan, Killian ensured nothing spoiled.

At first, The Council had feared the dragons finding them on their monthly gatherings, but many of the leaders were sorcerers, and they’d quickly found a solution. Kaedan had led the charge to create an enormous bubble above the cleared land they’d designated for their celebrations. Every other Council ruler with magick had added a layer, except Killian.

It was far too important for him to save every drop of sorcery in his soul to provide for The Council’s people, and he did so with great enthusiasm. He was not the lone Dwyer in his family, but Aloisa did not stand at his side to add to the giant rows of crops. There was no need; Killian could do it alone, and she preferred to play to her own strengths.

After a disastrous year of trying to oversee the Circle of Druids finances, Aloisa had wept with a mixture of fury and shame as she’d had to admit figures did not come easily to her. Killian had swept in to fix the finances of their people and encouraged Aloisa not to allow one failure to stop her from reaching her potential.

Six months later, Aloisa and Saura had come to him with a perfect idea. Now that The Council included shifters and elves, they wanted to create a venture they called Teleport. Soon, druids and warlocks were thrilled with the opportunity to add coin to their purses as they used magick to take those without the ability to teleport to their destinations.

In the twenty years since it had started, it’d grown into a lucrative source of revenue split between the Circle of Druids, The Coven of Warlocks, and The Council. It was a bright spot in an otherwise dark age of death and destruction. Wherever their people went, they feared dragons. The giant beasts would emerge from nowhere and leave few survivors in their wake.

Hatred for the dragons burned in the breasts of many, and Killian could not blame them despite—or perhaps because of—his dragon mate who’d chosen to pretend he did not exist. Few spoke of it to Killian any longer. He was known to snap and snarl if even his closest friends mentioned the name Dravyn.

Chander was often the lone person willing to risk Killian’s ire. The Arch Lich had learned in the most brutal of ways to shed his fear. Although his former elder council had all been executed thanks to their concerted efforts to end his life, pockets of resistance to his rule continued. Many feared his demonic blood, while others detested the sentinels at his side.

But it was nearly impossible to harm Chander now. He was a master with his daggers, and his diligent—nearly obsessive—reading of books encouraged him to experiment with his magick. A thick invisible shield covered him, and he had many scary spells to rely on if anyone dared strike against him.

In defiance of those who would speak poorly of his demonic side, Chander walked among those who gathered each month for their dances with his black wings floating elegantly behind him. His pewter gaze turned to red, and he’d developed a rather unnerving way of staring through people. Killian was glad to be friend and not foe.

“Killian!” called out a voice he instantly recognized.

With a tired grin, Killian turned to watch his sister dashing toward him. Her coronet was crooked, and her long hair fluttered in the gentle wind as she dragged a stranger by the hand to his little hiding spot at the front of the mulberry trees rapidly being plucked of their fruit.

Aloisa stopped a foot away and dragged in a deep breath. “I have someone for you to meet,” she insisted with color high on her cheeks.

One of the things Killian loved most about their monthly gatherings was the chance to mingle with his people and everyone else in The Council. He easily recognized the dark-haired stranger as a druid, and he offered her a genuine smile.

“Of course, who do you have with you?” Killian asked.

“This is Clara,” Aloisa stated proudly. “She is my mate.”

Tears of joy overwhelmed him. He cupped his sister’s face and kissed her cheek. “I have begged Fate for this day,” Killian said, turning to the woman at Aloisa’s side. Clara had ducked her head, but he did not miss the curve of her smile. “Clara, it is a joy to meet you. I wish you both such happiness I can hardly put it to words.”

“Thank you,” Clara answered quietly, lifting her chin for a moment, then aiming her brown gaze at the ground again. Killian thought her shyness understandable and beautiful in the moment. “I am most pleased to meet Aloisa. Oh, and you, of course.”

Killian laughed. “You have met your mate; I should hardly merit much more than a thought except as her beloved brother.”

“We have had the whole evening to talk,” Aloisa enthused. “I am ever so pleased you finally attended a dance, Clara.”

Clara glanced up at Aloisa with such joy that Killian could not help the stirring of envy in his breast. Being in a happy matebond was everything he used to want. Now, he lived without even the pleasure of being with another man since Dravyn had rejected him. No magickind could respond physically to another once they met their other half. If Killian could have a chat with Fate, he’d demand to know why she had not left him to his own devices rather than pair him with a man who found him wanting.

“Killian, with your permission, we thought to ask Kaedan if we could borrow elven tradition and join our souls tonight,” Aloisa said.

“You hardly need my permission,” Killian replied. “If you are ready to bind your souls, I see no reason to wait. Shall we find Kaedan?”

One of the many things they did on the nights of the dances was to celebrate the fresh matebonds discovered when everyone gathered. With no grand need for ceremony, the people of The Council preferred to lift their voices in song as the couple in question bound their blood.

Although it was traditionally elves who sealed their matebonds on the first night they met, it was a growing trend among everyone. Their lives were in constant peril, and few saw reasons to wait. The truth was, for many of them, they would not get the eternity Fate had promised them.

“Yes, please,” Clara answered.

With the happy couple at his side, Killian waved and greeted people as they weaved their way toward the center of the ceremony grounds. It was impossible to miss. The scepters made for each Council leader with magick floated above the land, and light stretched from them high into the sky, illuminating everything around them. Kaedan insisted the other races be acknowledged, so he’d added glowing swords for each elven chieftain and chosen a replica of their leaders’ beasts for both the Eldrvalkyria and the centaurs.

Kaedan himself was in true warlock form. Each warlock was born with half their body painted a unique color. To hide from humans, they’d long ago adapted to hiding those beautiful markings. No one in The Council bothered to conceal themselves from humans purposely any longer, though the warlocks switched forms seamlessly as it pleased them. The dragons flew in the daylight, and the humans who lived close to Council villages often died. Humans did not bother communicating with The Council, and Killian and his peers had voted to ignore them.

The Grand Warlock was dressed similarly to Killian, only his braies were the same rich navy as his irises in his human form. In this form, the navy of his pupil was present as a dragon in a sea of gold.

Kaedan hated he could not change the beast Fate had given him at birth, and he chose not to ask his father to remake the necklace that T’Eirick had given him in his youth. It was gilded and featured a dragon head that turned to face whatever direction his twin was in so Kaedan could always find him. Kariston wore a similar one, though his was silver to match his own markings.

When Kaedan saw Killian, he grinned and bowed his head. The ample light surrounding him glinted off the coronet that was nearly hidden by his mass of golden curls.

“You must be exhausted,” Kaedan said once they were in earshot of the gifted warlock, reaching out his arms to hug Killian. “Your generosity grows with each dance.”

“I enjoy pushing myself.”

“It shows, does it not?” Aloisa asked, pride glowing in her greenish-brown gaze. “No other druid can match him. I am grateful he allows me to dabble in his garden, though I fear changing the contented song of his plants with my ineptitude. Every druid can hear the harmony and would know I’d made Killian’s living things unhappy.”

“Do not sell yourself short—your prowess of magick grows just as bountifully as the flowers you love to create,” Killian replied. “But we are not here to discuss matters of sorcery. Grand Warlock Kaedan of Leolinnia, allow me to present Clara. She is Aloisa’s mate.”

Kaedan whooped loudly, then tugged the poor shocked woman into his embrace. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Clara.”

“We wish to celebrate our matebond this eve,” Aloisa announced as Kaedan finally released Clara and hugged Aloisa.

Lifting a hand above him, Kaedan snapped his fingers, and the sound easily carried through the air, which was thick with magick. The music ceased instantly, and heads turned toward the undisputed leader of The Council.

“My fine people, we have another matebond to celebrate this fine night,” Kaedan stated loudly and grinned as people cheered. “This is no ordinary matebond. Aloisa the Dwyer will bind her soul with Clara the Dwyer.”

A woman screamed, and Kaedan snorted as Saura ran to them. The markings on her skin in true form had shifted to antique silver after she handed her title to her youngest son, and being a Grand Sage suited her just as much as her former role. She and T’Eirick were devoted to The Council and everyone in it.

“Clara the Dwyer,” Saura said reverently. “I am ever so pleased to meet you.”

“No one has introduced you,” Kaedan muttered. His mother raised an eyebrow at her son, and he put on his best innocent expression.

Around them, people had already created a circle around the scepters as was tradition for united souls.

“Yes, yes, time for that later,” Saura retorted. Then she turned to the crowd. “Lift your voices, my people, and show the joy in your hearts for Fate’s blessing upon Aloisa the Dwyer and Clara the Dwyer.”

“We need an athame.” Aloisa grimaced.

“My mother wished for a daughter, and Fate brought you and Killian into our lives,” Kaedan said, plucking a ceremonial dagger out of thin air. “It seems only fitting you would use the Leolinnia athame.”

“My thanks,” Aloisa replied softly, unshed tears in her eyes. There was no athame in Killian and Aloisa’s family any longer. Their parents had used savagery to gain their titles, and neither Killian nor Aloisa wanted anything to do with the people who’d once drunk the blood of their predecessors to ensure they gained their titles. “Will you make the cuts, Killian?”

“It would be my honor,” Killian said, taking the athame from Kaedan. The Grand Warlock filled the air with drums, and mages added instruments of wind. Saura led the people in a beautiful chorus of chanting as Killian carefully made a cut in the palms of Clara and Aloisa. They held hands as their souls twisted together, and Killian had to fight his urge to heal their wounds.

Pain was important in the binding; the sting of it was a reminder to never forget the gift Fate had granted them. For sorcerers, the burn did not last long, and it would not leave a scar. Aloisa pressed her mouth to Clara’s in a soft kiss as Killian lifted his voice to join the others, and they sang of love, joy, and togetherness.

As the song ended, Saura cut the couple a second time, and Aloisa whispered, “Our blood has spilled, and our spirits have bonded. We ask Fate to grant us a mark from left shoulder to elbow so the world may bear witness we belong only to each other.”

Killian grinned as a gorgeous floral design in an array of pinks and vivid green appeared on the arms of both women.

“You will find joy or Fate will find Killian and I most displeased with her,” Saura said as Aloisa and Clara embraced.

Movement out of the corner of Killian’s eye had him turning as the gatherers cheered, and he lifted a brow at Kaedan. “Where did you get that pudding?”

Kaedan shoved it in his mouth with a shrug.

“Imagine being the most powerful warlock alive and using your gifts for nothing but ensuring you have a sweet whenever you want,” Saura griped.

Holding out a hand to Aloisa and Clara, Killian grinned at the happy pair. “Come, we will grow some fruits and dine together.”

“If you will allow it, I would join you,” Saura said.

“It would not be a celebration without you,” Aloisa replied. “Someone must fill my dear Clara’s head with all my good deeds.”

“Killian and I will take turns, and we welcome learning all we can of you, Clara,” Saura commented. “Kaedan, go find something to do more worthy of your time than eating sweets.”

“I will seek Renny, surely he has any manner of things on his mind that need doing,” Kaedan muttered and stalked off.

“At least he leaves us with lovely music to enjoy as we converse,” Saura said.

“Aye, it was kind of him,” Killian replied. “We will need wine for our meal; let us grab some and spend the rest of the evening celebrating this wonderful night.”

“Thank you for your welcome,” Clara said. “I still feel as if I am in a dream.”

“I feel much the same as you,” Aloisa responded, sharing a smile with her mate.

Once, Killian had wished to share tender moments with the other half of his soul too. Instead, he was paired with a dragon who clearly found him wanting.