Page 71 of Heart of the High King
Chapter 30
Rafe sat in the large back seat of the SVU and couldn’t pinpoint what he was feeling as he headed to Aleksander’s mansion. Unsure if he was doing the right or fair thing by showing up, he was simply incapable of quieting the raging voice in his head that wanted to see his mate one last time. Although it wasn’t easy to come to terms with his imminent demise, Rafe was left with no choice. The reality was, each morning when he got up, his life was dwindling away.
There was pain—both emotional and physical—as Rafe struggled through his days. It didn’t stop him from working hard to use his walker. Tiring easily, he was mostly in the wheelchair, but at least he’d overcome the low expectations his former doctor had for him. Mortis was sleeping next to Rafe, and the wolf had listened as he’d poured out his entire story last night when he found out that Dra’Kaedan’s Coven had accepted him. Since he refused to rebuild the remnants of his friendship with Aleksander, Mortis had become his confidante.
The wolf was honest, kind, and, Rafe suspected, more energetic than he let on. The large expanse of land that made up D’Vaire should finally provide Mortis the opportunity to stretch his legs and enjoy himself much as Rafe planned to do—only there would be no jogging in his future. But Rafe would do as he’d dreamed so long ago and walk through the front door of Aleksander’s house.
As the SUV ate up the miles toward Arizona, the radio played softly in the background as Rafe’s fear started to mount. Although he dearly wanted one last look at the man who owned his heart, he knew his decision did not come without a cost. It was subjecting them both to the reality of his situation, and Rafe was sorry he lacked the guts to call Aleksander to prepare him for his arrival and how he’d changed since they’d last laid eyes on each other.
Would he yell and kick Rafe right out? There was simply no way to know, and Rafe decided that if that did happen, he would not fight it. If necessary, he would drag his ass to the damn hospice center and escape into his dreams of the life Rafe had thought were waiting for him if he survived his family’s abuse. His hands shook with nervousness and fright while his mind supplied horrible scenarios of brutal rejection.
Next to him Mortis stirred, letting out a woof. “Danger?”
“I’m okay. Just tense.”
“Relax Rafe, things are going to be fine. We’ll get you inside, and High King Aleksander has promised to have everyone gathered. We can explain your identity, though you’ve visited, so they’ll recognize you,” Conley said from the front seat.
Rafe let out a smoky laugh. “I don’t know. I look kinda different.”
“A couple of scars aren’t going to make any difference.”
Most of his marks were covered under his layers of clothes, but the ones on his face and hands were visible. At least they’d faded to white lines; there were others that were still puffy and angry looking. Desperate to find the bravery everyone believed he had, though Rafe doubted it, he went with humor. “It’s going to be the hair, for sure. I used to wear my head practically shaved.”
“Really? Shit, if I had curls like that, I’d wear it even longer than you’ve got it.”
Emperor Ellery had sent his stylist, a nice elf named Vylendri, who’d trimmed Rafe’s hair, but he’d opted to do not much more than that. His loose curls hung to his collar in the back and fell over his forehead in the front. The streaks of gray didn’t even bother him. “My father hated the curls and insisted I cut it. When I was young, I wore it braided all the time to hide them.”
The crunch of the tires hit Rafe’s ears as Drystan stopped to punch a code in the gate that blocked the wide driveway. When the metal swung open, Rafe shifted in his seat and concentrated on deep breaths.
“Here we go,” Drystan said.
The vehicle rolled into motion, and tears threatened as the grand house came into view. Every genuine memory of happiness had happened at D’Vaire. Any joy he’d found at his father’s court was now clouded with betrayal, and Rafe had come to terms with what an idiot he’d been to so blindly trust him. When the SUV stopped, the Reverent Knights were out of their seats before Rafe even had his seat belt off. Conley opened the door to allow Mortis to jump to the ground while Rafe swung his legs to the side.
“You want your chair or the walker?” Drystan asked.
“Walker, please.”
Drystan placed it in front of him and helped Rafe navigate his way out of the car. Once he was steady on his braced feet, Rafe shuffled toward the door with Conley carrying both his duffel and wheelchair. Mortis trotted alongside him, and Rafe swallowed heavily as Brogan appeared at the entrance. Refusing to look up at the Grand Duke, Rafe focused on his movements so he didn’t fall. With his attention on the driveway, he was sure Brogan wouldn’t recognize the gaunt man who would spend his last weeks or months at D’Vaire as the would-be High King-mate.
“Welcome to D’Vaire,” Brogan said, proving Rafe’s hunch correct. “Come on inside, everyone’s waiting to meet you.”
“Is everybody in the living room?” Drystan asked. The Reverent Knight and his mate greeted Brogan while Rafe crossed the threshold of his favorite place on the planet. Thankfully, the hallway wasn’t long, because Rafe was already winded and dying to sit. It wasn’t so much the movement of walking, but his nerves were getting the best of him. There was murmuring reaching his ears, and he swore his heart skipped a beat as he turned the corner and the great room opened in front of him.
Then Rafe heard his voice, and his heart nearly stopped. “Dermot, we’re so glad you’re here. Welcome to High Court D’Vaire and Dra’Kaedan’s Coven.”
“Thanks,” Rafe said, lifting his head. Everyone went dead silent as his eyes met Aleksander’s startled ones. His mate sucked in a sharp breath, and his gaze widened. Rafe bit hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from weeping. Staring at the stunning man in front of him, he seemed taller than the eight inches that separated them, but perhaps that was because Rafe was bent over his walker.
Mortis let out a woof as the shaking in Rafe’s legs got to the point where he either needed to find a chair or he was going to fall down. “Sit,” the wolf demanded.
“Take a seat,” Drystan ordered and guided Rafe to the closest one. Right off the bat everyone in the house could see how weak he was, and it embarrassed Rafe. As soon as he was settled onto a cushion, Drystan folded his walker and put it within reach. Rafe dared to glance back at Aleksander and found him still standing there like a stone with any emotion other than shock invisible to him. Whether it was his voice or perhaps something in his face was similar to the chubby man who’d once visited him, there was no doubt that Aleksander recognized him.
As for Rafe, euphoria danced through his veins as he stared up at the dragon that was going to make his spirit happy one day when they were reunited. It was followed by a sharp staggering pain that reminded him that he’d failed in surviving. The goal of recovering from what he endured had been unmet, and it hurt to know he’d lost his future.
∞∞∞
If it wasn’t for the voice that haunted his dreams, Aleksander might not have known his mate was in his house. The man sitting in his living room was little more than skin and bones and despite the often brutal Arizona heat, he was dressed in two shirts and a jacket. No longer a black dragon, his eyes were a vivid blue, and the expression in them was haunted. They were obscured slightly by a bounty of glossy curls streaked with gray. A single scar over his left eyebrow had been his only mark, but now Duke Rafferty Kestledraconis’s face was littered with them, and his skin was subtly wrinkled.
For nearly a year, Aleksander had been pelted with numerous emotions as he tried to deal with his other half’s desertion. What Aleksander had never considered was that he was somewhere facing something that must have been horrific. And if that were not enough, he was at D’Vaire simply to find some peace as he awaited certain death. Aleksander could not process anything, and although there was talking around him, he wasn’t capable of listening.
