Page 12 of The Missing Sentinel
“I did not mean it to be,” Ducarius answered honestly. “I am confounded by your ignorance.”
“And I am taken aback by your rudeness. I was willing to accept your statement about your lack of dishonesty, but I now realize you may very well be manipulating me by suggesting it is my Arch Lich who has made such claims. How can I take your word for it? We have just met.”
“I am afraid you must draw your own conclusions,” Ducarius replied. He did not trust Adney, and he refused to explain his title, give the man his last name, or inform thenecromancer that he was part of Chander’s family. There was something wrong with the dynamic between Adney and Drexley. The necromancer knew nothing about sentinels, which did not speak of good communication between the pair, and Ducarius did not trust a man willing to manipulate people’s memories with magic. Nor did he like a necromancer who believed himself superior to anyone else—especially a race once imprisoned and abused by Adney’s people. Not to mention that Adney had calmly suggested that he didn’t believe Fate had granted sentinels mates.
And Ducarius had yet to process the way Drexley had calmly stated that their own Lich Sentinel had manufactured his title or that sentinels should be under the thumb of necromancers. The lone place Drexley would have developed such ideas was under Adney’s roof.
“Fine. Now, I must request that while you are in my realm, you do not walk around armed. This is a peaceful place. Weapons and training are forbidden here.”
“Mr. Blackwell, I am stuck here against my will thanks to your magic, but I remain a sentinel. One beholden to no one save the Lich Sentinel and the Emperors that rule the Council of Sorcery and Shifters. I go nowhere without my daggers.”
Adney’s brows drew together, and his frown was severe. “The Arch Lich rules the Council of Sorcery. There are no shifters in our government.”
“Five hundred years ago that information was correct. But two centuries ago, the Arch Lich united magickind and shifters. To facilitate the merger and hoping to accomplish his personal goals, the Arch Lich stepped down and handed the mantle to the ruler of the dragons.”
“The last thing I expected was for the Order of Necromancia to fall from grace and power,” Adney said, his shoulders slumping.
Ducarius did not understand Adney’s disappointment. Chander remained an important part of the Council and was one of the most well-respected leaders in it thanks to his many successes. The Darays were also part of the extensive D’Vaire clan, which included the Emperors too. The Order of Necromancia was renowned thanks to Chander, not despite the remarkable demonic imp-necromancer hybrid. Ducarius wondered how Adney would handle knowing Chander wasn’t a full-blood necromancer as he’d believed himself to be five centuries earlier.
Not appreciating the criticism of Chander’s choices, Ducarius crossed his arms and studied the ancient man nearly sulking in his chair over his imagined loss of prestige in a world he’d left behind of his own accord. Ducarius could’ve provided him with further information about the Council, but he did not bother. Adney wanted to be superior to everyone, and Ducarius was tired of necromancers with god complexes.
“Do you have any other questions for me?” Ducarius asked, not caring if his voice was brisk with his annoyance.
“The more I learn from you, the less I like. You also refuse to disarm yourself despite me clearing stating it is against the rules of my home. But you will respect my wishes when it comes to my sentinel. Drexley is an educated gentleman, not a dagger-wielding barbarian. Keep your distance from him.”
“A goddess created a matebond between myself and Drexley, yet I doubt even if Fate herself popped into this office and made a similar request of me I would respect it. The only person who can keep me from Drexley is the sentinel in question.”
“You are far too sure of yourself, Ducarius.”
“Perhaps,” Ducarius conceded. “I have faced similar criticism in the past.”
“Yet you choose to do nothing to make yourself amenable to me. A sentinel is nothing but a resurrected assassin with nothing to offer the world if he is unwilling to heed the words of necromancers. With our guidance, you can rise above the primitive form given to you upon your creation.”
“The day is early, and you are likely tiring yourself,” Ducarius said. “Instead of wasting energy trying to convince me sentinels are nothing without blind obedience to necromancers, you should save your energy for worthwhile pursuits.”
“I dislike your attitude, Ducarius.”
Ducarius had offended the necromancer, and that was unfortunate since they were stuck under the same roof. But Ducarius did not like the man. He appeared to be an asshole necromancer, like far too many of Chander’s people. Thankfully, Ducarius was intelligent enough to keep his opinion to himself.
Adney was too close to Drexley for Ducarius to risk alienating him completely with honesty. Which left Ducarius with no other choice but to remain silent and hopefully avoid any more private chats with the ancient necromancer. Ducarius’s mission was to get to know Drexley and find out if Fate had paired two compatible people.
Given how many happy couples were in Ducarius’s large extended clan, he believed the odds were good that he and Drexley were a good match. What Ducarius didn’t know yet was how difficult a mountain he would have to climb to convince the other sentinel that they had a potential future. Before yesterday, Drexley had apparently been unaware that sentinels even had mates.
Ducarius knew every other sentinel, and they were people who trusted their instincts. But Drexley had spent five centuries in a tiny realm with his memories being manipulated and had been educated by a pompous necromancer with little respect for sentinels.
It was Drexley who’d first touted the idea of Alaric’s supposed fake title to Ducarius. It was impossible for Ducarius to detect lies from his mate as he could with others, but thankfully, their people were incapable of dishonesty. Which meant Drexley believed his own words. That made little sense to Ducarius.
Did Drexley not recall being around Alaric at all? His senses should have reliably detected that Fate had chosen Alaric. Sentinels—like every other race Ducarius was familiar with—could recognize those granted titles by the goddess. But five centuries was a long time, and Drexley’s memories were faded by a spell. Ducarius had to assume that Drexley had no recollection of being in Alaric’s presence.
Ducarius frowned as Adney sighed heavily and—apparently done with his questioning—scuttled out of the room without another word. For nearly fifteen hundred years, Ducarius had had his memories washed away in the compound. When Alaric eventually discovered him, he’d recalled only his name and the basics of his abilities. He’d been virtually a clean slate. One nobody had an opportunity to take advantage of.
Ducarius had gone from a skeleton abandoned behind walls to part of the ruling structure of the Sentinel Brotherhood. Alaric had allowed each of his men to adapt to the Council as they saw fit. Ducarius had struggled to assimilate as his memory returned and the horrors he’d committed had invaded his mind.
Eventually, Ducarius had settled into his new life, and he was a happy and grateful person. But he had a loving family who’d aided him with their constant caring and support. As Ducarius stood and prepared to hunt down Drexley, he wondered about the future. It wasn’t just that Ducarius had to convince Drexley to want a matebond; he also wanted to be a shoulder for his other half to lean on as he adjusted to an entirely different reality once the necromancer died.
Both were daunting tasks, but Ducarius was a man willing to take on whatever was necessary to accept his gift from Fate.
Chapter 7
