Sentinel's Dagger (D'Vaire, Book 2) Page 4

  “As I have explained, we must take care in how many stones we allow to leave the Cwylld,” Aniernan began and then cast a long glance at his mate before returning his lavender gaze to Latarian. “However, I would be willing to offer you a second one if you were willing to take another problem off our hands.”

  “You have my curiosity, Chief Aniernan,” Latarian replied.

  “One of my tribe is blind. He is capable of caring for himself and has been trained to do many household chores, but despite our attention, without sight, he is skittish and prone to hurting himself. I fear with many young ones around, he will suffer unduly. Should he be allowed to live with you, surely he will have a happier life,” Aniernan said. Considering the general squalor of her surroundings, Latarian doubted any of the Cwylld were well cared for and although the last thing she desired was another person about inevitably irritating her, if she had a Cwylld elf, she could find where the stones were stashed and take all she required. It wasn’t as if she would waste time caring for this castoff and he, like Idris would be left behind when her plan came to fruition.

  “My companion, though young, has many years of experience in caring for the sick. He would take great care of your blind elf,” Latarian promised.

  “Very well, my mate will fetch Edion and his belongings. If you will follow Cadlyr out to the path, Edion will be along shortly with your second stone. But first, the serum,” Chief Aniernan replied and held out his hand. Latarian quickly handed over the last of their meager supply and grabbing Idris’s arm, marched out of the hut to meet Cadlyr, who turned out to be their spear-holding friend. As far as Latarian was concerned, things could not have gone better. She had two of their stones, and now with this Edion, she would soon know where to find the rest. Since she had no way of supplying them with any more of the serum, she would simply steal what she needed before she dumped the elf she was now saddled with.

  Cadlyr left them at the edge of where the Cwylld called home, and Latarian rubbed her hands in glee.

  “Did I not tell you all would be well?” Latarian asked Idris who was pouting next to her.

  “Yeah, but now I don’t have any serum left,” he complained miserably.

  “Do not worry about that. Soon our plan will be in motion, and that will not matter.” The duo stood in silence at the head of the rough path for several minutes. Idris’s bottom lip had yet to align itself with the top, but Latarian was used to the mercurial moods of the hormonal teenager at her side. As for herself, she could not remember another time she had felt so wonderful. She basked in the glow of her own well-thought-out plan and mentally congratulated herself a time or two before Cadlyr reappeared in the distance. At his side was an elf that was hunched and bent nearly in half. As the two men came closer, Latarian made note of the tattered clothing the slumped-over man wore. Smudged with mud, the fabric was coarse and Latarian guessed under all the dirt it was light brown. His clothing was a stark contrast to Cadlyr, who looked fresh and clean in a lavender tunic and pants.

  Their attire was not the only difference. All elven tribes shared traits such as hair and eye color, making it easy to discern what tribe they belonged to. Edion with his dirty and oily hair would have fooled even the most scholarly expert. While Cadlyr’s blond and lavender hair had been pulled back neatly from his face, Edion’s was in complete disarray. Besides the good scrubbing he desperately needed, one of his long pointy ears was strangely bent forward as if it had once been broken. Latarian could not imagine what would cause such an occurrence as elves healed almost immediately.

  When Cadlyr finally brought the blind man to stand in front of them, he grinned and handed her another stone. This one was not in a copper box. “Good luck,” he said with a chuckle before he released Edion and sprinted back toward his home. Latarian quickly pulled the copper box out of her cloak and stuffed the rock in with the first; holding it had drained way too much of her meager power supply.

  “I am Edion,” the elf said in a trembling voice as he wrung his hands in front of him.

  “I’m Idris. This is Latarian,” the boy next to her said in a friendly manner and reached toward Edion. Idris had barely laid his hand upon his arm to guide him before Edion shrank back. He raised his head in their general direction and Latarian got her first good look at his face. Before this day, she would have described all elven as beautiful, but the elf in front of her was ugly. Besides the layers of dirt and the misshapen ear, he had an oddly asymmetrical face. The left side of it seemed to bulge out in front of that bent ear and his eyes, which should have had light lavender irises around a dark pupil, were nothing but white. His mouth was chapped and cracked in at least two places and were she not mistaken, the dark shadows around the right eye were bruises. This was no well-cared-for blind relative that the tribe cosseted.

  The elf having been abused could only work in Latarian’s favor. Giving the matter some thought, she was doubtful Edion would care about giving away the secrets of a tribe who neglected and mistreated him. She recognized were Edion not immediately willing to go along with her plan, it would be relatively easy to intimidate such a creature. Latarian was not above adding to his bruises either. This elf would no doubt love to help her. She nearly laughed aloud—the stupid Cwylld must have thought themselves so clever dumping Edion on her.

  “Come along both of you, we must return home and plan,” Latarian said and rolled her eyes as Idris cooed to the blind elf and gently guided him down the path. It was going to be an unforgivably long walk home, but she doubted she could cast a teleportation spell, even with Idris’s help. At least the boy would be too concerned with his new charge to pester Latarian with his endless irritating chatter…or so she hoped.

  Chapter 4

  A month after arriving at Court D’Vaire, Gavrael was still adapting to his new home. His room was no longer the pretty white and light wood of his arrival; the ladies of the house had been generous enough to devote their time and energy to making it uniquely his. Sadly, Gavrael had been without a clue as to how to start. He’d found it impossible to narrow it down to a single color or pattern as Larissa had suggested for a starting point. How to match patterns was surely beyond him, so he concentrated on her palette of colors. It made his head swim—there were so many amazingly beautiful colors; it simply was not possible to select one.

  After a week of indecision, Larissa offered to take the matter out of his hands, and Gavrael had been relieved. Larissa provided him with many pairs of bright pajamas that contained every color in the rainbow. He had assumed she would pick out one of these vivid hues or patterns and bring all the color he wanted, but the room had been decorated in gray.

  The same gray as his clothes. The same gray that surrounded him for ninety-four years. Gavrael hated it, but he would never tell his new family his true feelings about his room. He was too appreciative of all the effort they’d put forth to try and make him happy. They were all wonderful people.

  Gavrael considered himself lucky to have been bound to Blodwen. She was warm and friendly, and Gavrael enjoyed any time spent in her company or the company of any of the D’Vaires. The only problem was, he had no idea how to express to his newfound family how thrilled he was to be around them.

  They gathered together often to hang out or watch television. Television amazed Gavrael. When that big black object in the living room had lit up with pictures the first time, he had to clench his jaw to keep it from falling to the floor. He especially enjoyed when a movie was playing; he liked escaping into a story and watching the drama unfold between the characters on the screen, and they always seemed to end with a song. Gavrael found he was enamored with music.

  His family, upon finding out he had never heard music before, had set out to expose him to as many different types as possible. While he found merit in every genre, he found himself particularly drawn to powerful female voices and dramatic heavy guitars. Gavrael’s favorite bands fell into the categories of symphonic metal or symphonic gothic metal. The music spoke to the
intense emotions he felt inside but was clueless how to express to the world around him.

  As lovely as his new family was, Gavrael often found himself sitting on the edge of the room with no idea how to include himself fully into his surroundings. At the moment, he had his butt planted on the area rug while the D’Vaires lay sprawled on the comfy furniture of the living room.

  As usual, Dra’Kaedan was in his mate’s lap. Blodwen and Larissa were also in their customary lap-sitting positions. Gavrael was still dumbfounded as to why anyone would want their personal space invaded in such a way, and he did not understand the connection between the people who chose to sit so close.

  “Hey Gavrael, what do you think the flaw is that sentinels have?” Derwin blurted out as Gavrael’s mind wandered.

  “Flaw? I know of no flaw,” he said. It was perplexing to him how anyone could find his race flawed, and Alaric had certainly never made any mention of it.

  “Neither do we, but some mysterious flaw is supposedly the reason why all of your people are living at the compound. It’s referred to in almost every description I could find of sentinels,” Trystan said as he pushed up his glasses.

  “I have never heard of this flaw before,” Gavrael said and hoped that would be the end of the topic.

  “So, what did you do for fun at the compound?” Renny asked as if reading Gavrael’s mind. The feisty little blond familiar always made it a point to speak to him about his past. It pleased him that Renny was curious about him and his life. The familiar was easily one of Gavrael’s favorite family members.

  “I would read in the evenings.” Not exactly the most exciting part of his day but it did fill the time until he could train again. Training was about as fun as life got at his old home. Of course, at his new home with so many amazing things to offer him, he still delighted at the opportunity to exercise his skills often.

  “What kind of books did you read?” Derwin asked. Derwin and Renny were best friends, and you rarely saw the two familiars apart.

  “They focused on weapon techniques.”

  “That sounds kind of boring,” Derwin said with a look of disgust, and Renny gave his friend a shove.

  “Gavrael likes that stuff,” Renny admonished, and Gavrael gave Renny a nod to convey his agreement. He did enjoy them, and thanks to the Council bookstore he found on the internet, he had many new books at his disposal, though it seemed none of them conveyed the type of expertise the ones at the compound had.

  “Sorry, I just get bored reading.” Derwin apologized and Gavrael offered another nod in that direction.

  “Better hope you don’t get a bookworm for a mate. You will drive each other insane,” Dre’Kariston threw out with a chuckle for his familiar’s imagined predicament.

  “Fate wouldn’t match me with someone who I didn’t have anything in common with,” Derwin said with a haughty sniff.

  “I wonder what your mate will be like, Gavrael,” Renny said curiously and looked at the sentinel in question expectantly. Before long every person in the room was looking at him with a similar expression. Clearly, they all expected him to respond; the only problem was, he had no clue what to say since he still lacked any knowledge on the subject.

  It was time to come clean to his new family. “I do not know what a mate is,” Gavrael admitted and watched as their expressions went from curious to shocked.

  “Fate grants every person of magic or shifter blood a gift. We are paired with a person who is our perfect complement. We recognize that person instantly. It’s a little different for each race, but it’s impossible to ignore. Your heart races, all your senses become hyperaware, and you may smell a perfect scent.

  “To you, that person is the most beautiful person on the planet; you will be attracted to them in an overwhelming way you can only feel for your mate. If you are both willing, then you’ll have a ceremony that connects you. For shifters, they exchange blood through biting their mate, and for magickind, we use a dagger called an athame to slice open a small wound on our palms to exchange blood. Once bound, our lives are forever intertwined,” Blodwen explained quietly.

  “Fate provides the knowledge of who our mate is, but it is up to the couple to decide how they will handle their bond. For some, the connection is easy, and they mate quickly. For others, they need time to adjust to each other and their new roles as mates, and the matebond happens after a little time.

  “A couple has to be able to communicate effectively and always keep their partner’s needs before their own. It may take some work, but the love you create will be the greatest reward you can ever imagine,” Dra’Kaedan added and Gavrael watched as he cupped Brogan’s cheek in his palm and pressed his lips to that of his mate. He wondered if it was love that caused the pair to always want to sit so close together.

  Gavrael had seen the two kissing before, and from television he learned they were not unique in their desire to hold someone close, but he could still not comprehend wanting those things for himself. He struggled to get any of his feelings or preferences into the world; trying to please someone he was bonded to sounded frightening, and fear was unacceptable to him.

  “It sounds complicated.” Gavrael decided that was the best word he could think of without potentially offending anyone. In reality, he found it nothing short of disturbing.

  “It certainly can be,” Brogan said with a strange smile Gavrael had no way of comprehending.

  “So Gavrael, is your mate male or female?” Dra’Kaedan asked.

  Gavrael’s brow actually wrinkled in confusion. “I have not met my mate. How could I know if my mate is male or female?”

  “Guess that is one notable difference between fallen knights and sentinels,” Trystan, Blodwen’s mate, said with a wry twist of his lips.

  “I do not understand,” Gavrael admitted, his brow still furrowed.

  “Do you find yourself attracted to males or females, in general? Or do you find them both equally attractive?” Trystan asked.

  “I am unsure what that means.”

  “Okay, have you ever seen anything you would describe as beautiful?” At Trystan’s question, Gavrael thought back to a month ago when he had stood in this very room and saw the carpet beneath his feet. It was the moment he knew beauty existed. Since that day, he had seen many exquisite things in the world to marvel over.

  “Yes,” Gavrael replied with a short nod.

  “Do you find beauty in people?” Trystan asked, and Gavrael found himself nodding again. All of the people in his home he considered beautiful. Each one of them had shown themselves to be warm, caring, and friendly since his arrival.

  “Outside beauty or inside beauty?” Gavrael paused at the latest question Trystan had thrown his way. While he had no issue with the components that made up the faces of those around him he did not see any way to describe them beyond the colors of their eyes and hair. That did not signify any connection to his idea of the word beauty.

  “I find it inside people,” he finally replied.

  “Yeah, I believe that proves sentinels have no sexuality before they meet their mates. Fallen knights are different; they can have relationships before knowing their mate. They often have many sexual relationships when they are first resurrected,” Trystan informed him, and Derwin offered a clap of his hands.

  “Warlock familiars are the same way. We have no sex drive or attraction to anyone before we meet our mates,” Derwin told him and Gavrael was glad to find he was not the only one to have this absence of attraction to people.

  Sex was another thing Gavrael was clueless about. The word was thrown around on television, and he knew it was somehow related to this kissing the couples in his family seemed so addicted to, but that was the extent of his knowledge.

  “Luckily, we have our warlock’s memories when we are summoned after they become adults so we get the concept of mating,” Renny stated to the room at large. At the moment, Gavrael was kind of wishing he was a warlock familiar—that way he would understand all this stuff a bi
t better.

  “Do you have any questions about mating?” Blodwen asked with a friendly smile. Gavrael had about a million questions, but he had no idea how to voice the majority of them.

  But he did need to know the answer to one. “How do you know I will have a mate?” After all, there was no sentinel with a mate. Gavrael could see little reason why he would be different from any other member of his race.

  “Well, we can’t offer any example of a sentinel mating, but we have no evidence to support them not having one either. As sentinels are born of magic and have magic themselves, they are firmly in the category of magickind. All magickind races have mates. So I don’t think it is presumptuous to believe sentinels also have mates,” Trystan reasoned as he adjusted his glasses.

  Gavrael conceded Trystan’s point was well founded, but he hoped if he did have a mate somewhere, Fate would wait to bring him or her into his life. He was still adjusting to his new world and its inhabitants; Gavrael wasn’t sure he was capable of tackling anything else. Offering Trystan a nod in exchange for the opinion he provided, he wondered if there was a way to put his thoughts into words. Although he sought knowledge about what sex was, he was unsure if it was acceptable to ask his family about it.

  He had no idea why people touched each other or why they needed to be in such close proximity. A headache began to form at the edges of his mind as he thought about the idea of love and how it related to this touching mates did. He did not know if this was part of sex nor could he fully understand this concept of the word love. Gavrael cared for the people he now knew but was unsure if he was supposed to attach the word love when thinking of them. None of these thoughts helped him articulate any of these confusing possibilities into words. In truth, as the minutes ticked by his head throbbed harder, and his thoughts became more mired in chaos.