Orion straightened in anger. “Why the bloody hell would anyone of Drakos blood wish to be near that king?” Orion demanded.
“For the very reason you are outraged,” his father answered. “James I was obsessed with finding and killing witches. Your ancestor wanted to know his plans, what was going to happen before it did, and to learn what the king knew, all in protection of his family.”
Orion relaxed back in his chair, understanding the reasoning. Perhaps he would have done the same.
“The plan worked, and he became a confidant of King James I. Unfortunately, several poor souls still died.”
“Not all of them were witches, were they?” Pierce asked gravely.
His father looked his heir in the eye. “None of them were.”
Orion’s stomach tightened, sickened that so many were lost because of a mark, or superstition, or fear, or false accusation.
“What your ancestor had not anticipated was that when the Gunpower Plot occurred and after noting the loyalty of our ancestor, King James I would make him the Earl of Wharton and gifted him Markella House in Wiltshire. It was a gift that could not be rejected, and the first Earl of Wharton could not give the true reason of why we wished to remain at Nightshade Manor. Therefore, the family moved to Wiltshire, leaving the younger brother behind. That brother became the caretaker of all that lived within Nightshade Manor, and through the generations, a gentleman has resided here to care for the estate and to protect it from outsiders who would seek to do harm.”
“Why not simply cloak the estate as has been the practice all my life?” Pierce asked.
“It was not something that was practiced then. Even if they had, the witches would not have done so while James I was on the throne. He knew of Nightshade Manor and what if he became suspicious or wished to visit? Instead, the family of the younger brother lived here peacefully, and guards were placed to warn if anyone came near.”
“Is that when you decided to bind powers?” Orion asked.
“No, that had become a practice in Greece, but it remained a concern here,” his father answered. “The sacred grove was hidden and offered sanctuary for the daughters. A cottage was built and that is where the mothers and daughters retreated when the time came as there was no risk of discovery.”
“Is that why the sacred grove was created?” Orion asked.
“No, the sacred grove served other purposes and came to be when the family settled here, but because of the danger of James I, it began to serve females of the Drakos line as well.”
“What sacred grove?” Pierce asked in confusion.
Orion was not going to be the one to explain as based on earlier conversations, Pierce wasn’t even to know.
His father blew out a sigh and rose from behind his desk. Orion watched as he wandered to the trolley that a footman had left and poured a cup of coffee. He was certain that his father was weighing how much he should tell Pierce, though Orion assumed his brother, as heir, would have full knowledge of Nightshade Manor eventually, including the grove.
“When the Drakos family came here nearly two hundred and fifty years ago, they were escaping the dangers to the witches in the family.” He paused and took a sip. “Also, to the dryads.”
“Dryads?” Pierce questioned in shock.
“There were five who lived on Drakos land. Men hunted them because they were nymphs and beautiful. They hunted the witches out of fear. When it was time to leave, the ancestors also brought the trees.”
Orion frowned. “How was that even possible or were they just saplings?”
His father chuckled. “The Drakos witches are of the earth and their powers come from Goddess Gaia. They could move a five-hundred-year-old oak if they needed to.”
Orion supposed he was correct, though he would like to see how it was done.
“Crates were prepared and loaded onto the ship that brought the family to Cornwall. Your ancestors then established a sacred grove where men are never to go and protected it by overgrown boxwoods except for the land along the cliff, which is open to the sea.”
“That was so long ago, certainly the dryads are gone,” Pierce said.
“So long as the tree lives, so does the Dryad, and the five have been within the grove all this time.”
Those five dryads, Nina’s companions, were at least two hundred and fifty years old! No wonder they had little in common, besides Nina not fully being a dryad.
“I am still not certain why a custodian is needed any longer,” Pierce observed.
“Did you forget that your cousin and wife were killed not four years ago by witchfinders?” his father rebuked.
The brothers sobered. Neither had forgotten. It had been the first time in decades that a witch had been killed simply because of what they were. Their cousin had died because he happened to be with her at the time.
