“There’s no real way to tell yet but we’re working as hard as we can and will try everything we can think of. We’ll find a way to get Ellery out of his dragon form,” Dra’Kaedan promised. Chrysander believed in the Grand Warlock and the rest of Sorcery D’Vaire. All he could hope was that they were able to crack this fucking potion and give him his elf back.
“Aleksander, if it’s okay with you, my family will stay here at D’Vaire until your group here returns Ell to normal.”
“You’re always welcome, and it would be easier if we had constant access to Elf.”
“I can use magic to set up a tent and stuff out here for you, Chrys, if you’d like. That way you don’t have to leave Ellery outside by himself,” Dra’Kaedan offered. “You’ll still need to go indoors for showers and the like, but you could sleep and everything out here. I’ll make sure it’s nice and cool too.”
For the first time in hours Chrysander smiled. “Thank you, I would like that very much. I’d prefer not to leave Ellery’s side if I don’t have to.”
“You have kept his dragon calm all afternoon,” Grand Summoner Dre’Kariston observed. “His beast is going to continue to act more aggressively in every aspect until we reverse this. You’re going to be essential to keeping him sane, I’m sure.”
Ellery nodded his dragon head, and Chrysander smoothed a hand over his wing.
“And we know we’re safe here. I know that visitors aren’t really a common occurrence, but I’m going to have to ask that we restrict D’Vaire to only immediate and extended family,” Damian said.
Brogan, the man in charge of keeping D’Vaire safe, narrowed his eyes. “Rest assured, no one’s getting into our magic bubble while you’re here.”
“What about your sanctuary?” Costas asked. Although the D’Vaires were extremely selective in the outcasts they invited to join them, it was still a concern.
“Consider Dra’Kaedan’s Coven closed for newcomers until we reverse the potion,” Aleksander stated.
The man whom the sanctuary was named for smiled. “And none of you should feel guilty about our doors closing temporarily. We didn’t hold a family vote, but I guarantee you no one under Aleksander’s roof has a single complaint. It’s our honor to be able to safeguard you guys while we work on a cure. Nothing is as important as ensuring that our emperors are protected and as quickly as we can, we’ll have you home in Vegas.”
“I’ll go to the hotel and gather our things,” Costas said. “We can either return to our rooms there when Elf is fixed, until our condo is completed, or simply stay here.”
“Let’s hope that’s a decision we need to make as soon as possible. I need my Ell back.”
Dra’Kaedan stood. “Then we need to get to work.”
“Thank you. I appreciate all you’ve already done, and I want to know who did this, why they did it, and I want my fucking mate back.”
“We’re going to find out and when we do, they will pay,” Alaric promised as he got to his feet. He swept Chander into his arms, kissed him thoroughly, then pulled his cloak on to teleport away. The Reverent Knights shimmered away as he did. The table Dra’Kaedan created vanished, and Sorcery D’Vaire strode to their building as Vadimas instructed Chrysander that he would have someone to collect his blood within minutes.
Chrysander leaned his head against Ellery’s scaly chest. “I need my elf back,” he whispered, aware he was repeating himself, but he couldn’t help it. Ellery let out a soft sigh and Chrysander was left only with his faith that somehow, they would find a way to fix the man he loved. An eternity with him just out of reach was simply too much to comprehend.
Chapter 12
Oklin Mivorn had plenty of dragon blood left over after he created the potion for the repugnant man who worked in the Emperor’s office. He’d lied about the amount he would need, but what choice did he have? There was no way to know when he would get the chance again to have a dragon willingly offer it, and though he’d tried stealing it from unsuspecting shifters, they were intelligent beasts who’d nearly burned him to a crisp with their fiery breaths.
Since he’d learned of dragons, Oklin had been captivated. He would give anything—even his ample magic—to be able to sprout wings and take to the sky. As intelligent and gifted as he was as a sorcerer, the one thing he couldn’t produce was a way to transform into any semblance of a dragon. His mind was often drawn to the two warlocks born with magical dragon forms. Wizards were descended from warlocks, and their blood still shared some common traits even after several thousand years of evolution. If Fate gave the Grand Warlock and the Grand Summoner the power to be beasts, then surely, he would find a way to do the same.
When Oklin’s phone rang, he considered ignoring it. He was on his way to the giant lab he’d built in the basement of his home. Glancing down at the screen, he saw it was that idiot Wesley. Oklin had no desire to speak to him, but there was an off chance that he might be willing to provide more blood.
“What?” he barked into the phone. It might not be the most genial greeting, but Oklin wasn’t known for his politeness.
“What have you done?” Wesley spat into his ear.
“A great many things. Was there something in particular you were referring to?”
“You gave me a potion that’s made that damn mutant elf shift into dragon form.”
It was genius of Oklin, if he said so himself. Wesley was an arrogant, condescending shit who wanted to rid himself of his Fate-chosen leader. Oklin might be toeing outside the line of what wizards considered acceptable in terms of magic, but he was an ancient man of several thousand years. He believed strongly in Fate, and he could not stomach a man who so casually disregarded it. While he was anxious to get his hands on dragon blood by almost any means, he wasn’t willing to sacrifice his principles.
“You wanted to get rid of him. I did that,” Oklin growled and couldn’t hold back his smile. It was a harmless potion, really. The hybrid was forced into dragon form for a matter of days—perhaps weeks since he was a smaller beast—then he’d return. Once a part of the Council, he knew the reputation of Reverent Knight Drystan. He would hopefully trace it to Wesley, and the treacherous man would pay for his deceit. The Emperor would be normal, reunited with his mate, and life would carry on.
“I wanted him todisappear.”
“Wizards have been creating invisibility potions for centuries. It’s a waste of time. They last for only a few minutes, and a strong sorcerer can sense them anyway.”
