“Who ever heard of anelfas a dragon emperor?” Wesley snarled. “You aren’t fit to be anywhere near Chrys, let alone rule the dragons and the Council.”
He might not be willing to directly answer questions, but Wesley was giving Ellery plenty of insight into his actions. It was just as he’d deduced; Wesley resented him because he wasn’t a full dragon.
“Was it worth your life to prevent me from being Chrysander’s mate?” Ellery asked.
Wesley’s eyes filled with tears. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. You were just going to disappear. No one would have missed you, and I would’ve continued in my role as office manager. I don’t want to die. I didn’t want it to ever come to this. Ellery, you must understand that. You can stop this travesty. I didn’t ask to get you stuck in dragon form.”
“You wanted me to disappear?”
“Yes, exactly that. We would’ve all wondered where you were, but we’d have to assume you left of your own accord. Maybe ran back to your tribe.”
“What of me Wesley? Where would I be? What would I be thinking?”
“I guessed you’d be invisible or something like that,” Wesley rushed out. His eyes were pleading as if he truly expected Ellery to save him. “You would’ve been able to do whatever you want. Stay near Chrys or wander around learning about stuff.”
“I could be near him but never his mate.”
“You didn’t even fucking complain when I pushed your ceremony out to six weeks. You’re an elf. Where was the outrage then?”
Ellery had done what he thought was right as a dragon. He hadn’t wanted to wait, but he would be damned if he would defend himself to Wesley. “How long would I be invisible? How long did you want to separate me from my mate?”
“It wasn’t about separating you. It was about having only someone worthy like Chrys running the Council.”
“Answer the question. How long?”
“It’s not like you could suddenly reappear.”
“Your plan was to rip me away from Chrysander and put me in a cage of invisibility. I would not be able to speak to another living soul or do anything but mourn the life I could not have. No one would save me because you would help convince them I had walked away of my own accord.”
“Exactly. Eventually everyone would get over it.”
Wesley’s lack of conscience made Ellery want to throw up. He didn’t know how it all made sense in his head, but he’d heard enough of his pitiful reasoning. “What right did you have to decide I needed to disappear?”
“I did it for Chrys. And the Council. You’re too damn scared to even file a petition. You have no business being Emperor. Fate makes mistakes, and you’re one of them.”
“I appreciate your honesty.”
“Will you help me?”
Ellery smiled. “You would have sentenced me to worse than death. An immortality full of emptiness and loneliness. I cannot help you, Wesley. You sealed your own fate.”
Though Ellery had planned a speech telling Wesley everything he’d endured and why he was wrong to part him from Chrys, the words would be lost on such a callous and evil soul. So, he turned on his heel, and Drystan pushed the door open for him. He had no plans of ever thinking about Wesley again.
* * *
Reverent Knight Drystan Gylde-Kempe met the golden eyes of the man he loved. They met when he was seventeen and they were given three centuries together before a bunch of dukes decided just as Wesley had that they knew what was best for Court Draconis. Conley was murdered in front of Drystan, and his own life was snuffed out seconds later. Chrysander had made it his mission to avenge them.
After being resurrected, Drystan had no memory of being Emperor. Nor did he have Conley. When both his memory and his mate were returned, he was grateful to Chrysander. He and his family gave Drystan and Conley the vengeance they missed out on. With a deep breath, Drystan felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him. Finally, he was going to be able to not only even the score but get a bit of his own back.
Although the Sentinel Brotherhood was technically in charge of Wesley, the Lich Sentinel had insisted he be turned over to the fallen knights. Alaric might’ve spent that year among two thousand others locked in a compound that was more prison than home, but he understood the impact the year 1369 had on Drystan, Conley, and the very future of the Council itself.
Rage had burned through Drystan for the last year after Wesley poisoned Ellery. It had grown exponentially as he listened to the fucker try to explain his reasoning. The only thing that had helped him stay calm was the noble elf who so gracefully spoke with him. His Majesty had never raised his voice, and his striking face had remained relatively impassive. Fate had chosen his and Conley’s successors well.
“Con, I need a minute with Wesley,” he whispered to the other half of his soul near the door.
“You think I don’t know why? Why should you get to execute him?”
“I watched you die,” was all Drystan replied.
