Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The abandoned boarding house sat three streets away from the temple ruins, its windows boarded up and its walls scarred by years of neglect.
But inside, the rebellion had transformed it into a functional if temporary safehouse—clean rooms, medical supplies, and guards posted at every entrance.
Casteel hadn't left Nero's side in two days.
He sat beside the narrow bed, watching the rise and fall of his mate's chest with obsessive intensity. Through their bond, he felt each flicker of pain, each moment of restless sleep, each gradual improvement in Nero's condition. The wounds were healing, Makim assured him, but slowly.
"You need to eat," the healer said for the third time that morning, setting a tray of bread and broth on the rickety table. "The bond requires strength from both of you."
Casteel picked at the food mechanically, his attention never wavering from Nero's pale face. His mate's breathing had grown steadier through the night, the wet rattle fading from his lungs, but he remained unconscious more often than not.
"How long?" Casteel asked, the same question he'd posed every few bells.
"His body is healing," Makim replied patiently. "But arrow wounds to the chest...they take time. Be grateful the bond is sustaining him." The healer met Casteel's gaze. "You've kept him alive, not I."
Through the thin walls came the sounds of the rebellion—people coming and going, hushed conversations about Doran's crackdown on the city, plans being made and revised. Casteel ignored it all. His world had narrowed to this room, this bed, this man who had become everything to him.
When footsteps approached their door, Casteel tensed, hand moving instinctively to the sword Eryken had given him. But the knock was gentle, respectful.
"Come in," he called.
Eryken entered, moving with the careful quietness of a man accustomed to sickrooms. His weathered face bore new lines of exhaustion, and his left arm was bound in a sling—evidence of the fighting at the temple.
"How is he?" Eryken asked, settling into the room's single chair with a barely suppressed wince.
"Alive," Casteel replied, his fingers finding Nero's pulse point automatically. "Makim says the wounds are clean, healing properly."
"Good." Eryken studied his former lieutenant's face, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "He's always been stubborn about dying."
Despite everything, Casteel felt a small smile tug at his lips. "Tell me about him. Before the rebellion, before all this."
Eryken was quiet for a long moment, his gaze distant.
"I didn't know him personally then, so this may be soldier's gossip but from what I've heard Nero was.
..different then. Had a farm outside Millhaven, a wife who could make even burnt porridge taste like feast food.
One child, and his wife was pregnant with a second when she died.
" His voice softened. "He used to talk about teaching his son to use a bow. "
The words pierced Casteel's heart. He felt Nero stir slightly, as though even unconscious, he could sense the memories being shared.
"What happened?" Casteel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Eryken's face darkened. "When Nero couldn't pay the tax collectors, they took half his livestock as penalty the day he was having to burn blighted crops to save his other fields.
" He ran a hand over his face. "His son died of a fever then his wife was attacked while treating the sick in a neighboring village.
Thieves looking for medicine or anything valuable. By the time Nero found her..."
"It was too late," Casteel finished, remembering fragments Nero had shared that night before everything fell apart.
Eryken nodded. "He came to us then. Didn't speak for nearly a month, just worked himself to exhaustion each day.
But he was lethal with a bow—could hit targets others couldn't even see.
" A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "The first time I heard him laugh again was during a raid on a supply caravan.
He'd made an impossible shot, and when the guards scattered, he just..
.laughed. Like he remembered he was still alive. "
Casteel's fingers gently traced the bandages covering Nero's chest. "He told me some of this, but not all."
"He wouldn't," Eryken said. "Nero guards his pain like a miser guards gold.
" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"I've known him for five years, fought beside him, trusted him with my life.
And I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you on that balcony as he realized we were trying for the shot. "
Heat bloomed in Casteel's cheeks. "The bond—"
"Is magic, yes," Eryken interrupted. "But magic can't create what isn't there to begin with.
It amplifies, enhances, brings to the surface.
" His eyes, sharp with battlefield wisdom, studied Casteel carefully.
"The Nero I know would never have thrown himself in front of arrows for any but those he loves. Not even me."
Silence settled between them, broken only by Nero's steady breathing. Outside, rain began to fall, pattering against the boarded windows like hesitant fingertips.
"What happens now?" Casteel asked, finally trying not to let his stupid heart beat so quickly it stopped. "Doran will be hunting us. The city is in chaos."
"Now we adapt," Eryken replied, his voice taking on the crisp authority of command.
"Doran overplayed his hand with that decree.
The nobles who weren't already in his pocket are alarmed by his grab for power.
The common folk are confused—their prophesied savior has vanished, their city is burning, and their High Priest is demanding they surrender their sons to his new army. "
"They'll blame us," Casteel said bitterly. "The Silver Wolf who abandoned them."
Eryken shook his head, surprising Casteel with the certainty in his eyes.
"Not all of them. Word is spreading about what really happened on that balcony—how the Silver Wolf's mate took arrows meant for him, how Doran tried to force you to enact laws that would enslave half the kingdom.
" He leaned forward, voice dropping. "People are choosing sides, and not all favor the High Priest."
"But the prophecy—"
"Was always a tool," Eryken finished. "First for the royal family, then for Doran. The question is: whose tool will it be now?"
Casteel's hand tightened around Nero's. "No one's. I'm not a weapon to be wielded."
A ghost of a smile crossed Eryken's weathered face.
"That's exactly what I expected you'd say.
" He shifted in his chair, wincing as the movement jostled his injured arm.
"But prophecy or not, you have power, Casteel.
The Silver Wolf is real. People saw you transform.
That gives you legitimacy no rebel leader could ever claim. "
"I never asked for this," Casteel whispered.
"Neither did he," Eryken replied, nodding toward Nero's still form. "Neither did any of us who watched our families starve while kings and priests grew fat on 'divine offerings.'"
Casteel glanced at Eryken wondering for the first time what had brought him to this point.
Beneath Casteel's fingers, Nero's pulse quickened slightly. Through their bond, he felt a flicker of consciousness—not awake, but closer to the surface than before.
"He's responding to your voice," Casteel said, hope threading through his words.
Eryken moved closer, his gruff demeanor softening as he looked down at his former lieutenant.
"Always was a light sleeper. Saved our lives more than once when he heard patrols before anyone else.
" His voice took on a reminiscing quality.
"Remember that night at Blackwater Ford, Nero?
Six royal guards stumbled into our camp, and you had three down before the rest of us even woke. "
Another pulse through the bond—stronger this time. Casteel felt Nero's mind reaching toward consciousness like a drowning man stretching for air.
"Keep talking," Casteel urged. "He can hear you."
“How about you tell me about you?” Eryken countered.
Casteel hesitated, surprised by the request. “Me? I’m just a stable boy.”
“A stable boy who turns into a silver wolf and bonded with my best lieutenant,” Eryken said dryly. “I very much doubt you’re ‘just’ anything.”
Through their bond, Casteel felt Nero’s consciousness stir again—a flicker of curiosity. He took Nero’s hand with both of his, drawing strength from their connection.
Casteel began in a low voice. “My ma got a job in the palace kitchens.” He glanced down, unable to look Eryken in the eye, and not because he was ashamed, but because he was angry. "Johannes raped her like so many others, and so I guess I was one of many royal bastards.”
"And then?" Eryken asked.
"I was a stable boy and to be honest I loved it.
I even got to exercise the horses once the head groom trusted me.
" He'd loved two of them the most. Princess was a strawberry roan bought for the Emperor Johannes's granddaughter, and he was one of a few small enough to train her.
Magic was an aged battle horse once belonging to a general that his rider's widow refused to sell.
He made sure Magic got to spend his days in the sun with as many stolen carrots as Casteel could get. "When there were horses," he added.
Eryken shook his head. “I’d left for Cadmeera seven months before the victory. We had bigger problems developing there and in Rajpur. If I’d stayed, maybe Aidan would still be alive.”
Casteel remembered the day the local rebel leader had died. “At least you fought,” Casteel muttered.
Eryken raised a brow. “How old are you?”
Casteel huffed. “Twenty summers, but don’t tell me I was too young to have fought in the rebellion.” He hesitated. “Ma was sick. She had been for a long time, and if it wasn’t for me, she would have been turned out. I didn’t get wages. We got food and she got a pallet with the other maids.”
At that moment, Nero’s fingers twitched against his palm. His eyelids fluttered, fighting the pull of unconsciousness.
“Nero?” Casteel leaned in, heart pounding. “Can you hear me?”
A weak squeeze, then the faintest whisper: “Yes.”
Relief crashed over Casteel like a tidal wave. Through their bond, emotions surged that were too powerful for words—gratitude, fear, hope, and something deeper neither would name.
“Don’t try to move,” he whispered, brushing dark hair from Nero’s brow. “You were shot with an arrow to the lung. You’ll heal, but it’ll be slow.”
Nero’s eyes opened fully, clouded with pain but fierce with recognition. They found Casteel first, drinking in the sight of him as a man dying of thirst might need water. Then they shifted to Eryken, narrowing slightly.
"You...shot me," Nero rasped, his voice barely audible.
Eryken's weathered face creased with genuine regret. "Not personally, but yes. My orders, my responsibility." He leaned closer, one scarred hand resting on the edge of the bed. "Had I known about the bond—"
"Nero, don't," Casteel murmured, feeling the strain through their bond. "Save your strength."
But Nero's gaze remained fixed on his former commander, a spark of the old fire returning despite his weakened state. "Why are you here, Eryken? To finish...what you started?"
"I'm here because despite everything, you're still one of mine," Eryken replied, his voice steady with conviction. "And because Abergenny needs both of you alive more than it needs another martyr to the cause."
Nero's lips twitched in what might have been a grimace or a smile. "Practical...as always."
Casteel felt Nero's exhaustion mounting, his brief surge of consciousness already waning. "He needs rest," Casteel said firmly, his hand protectively covering Nero's.
Eryken nodded, rising from his chair with the careful movements of a man nursing his own injuries.
"We'll speak again when you're stronger.
For now, know that this house is secure, and my best fighters guard every entrance.
" He paused at the door, his expression softening fractionally.
"I am truly sorry, Nero. Not just for the arrows, but for doubting what you found here. "
After Eryken departed, Casteel helped Nero drink a few sips of water, then some of Makim's medicinal tea. The effort left Nero trembling, his face ashen against the rough pillow.
"You should rest too," Nero whispered, fingers weakly squeezing Casteel's. "I can feel...how tired you are."
"I'm fine," Casteel insisted, though the bond between them made the lie transparent.
Nero's eyes, though clouded with pain, held a familiar stubborn light. "Lie down...with me. Just for a while."
Casteel hesitated, afraid of jostling Nero's wounds, but the plea in his mate's eyes was impossible to resist. Carefully, he stretched out beside Nero on the narrow bed, positioning himself along Nero's uninjured side.
The moment they touched, their bond hummed with renewed strength, and Casteel felt some of his bone-deep weariness ease.
"Better," Nero murmured, his eyes already drifting closed as exhaustion reclaimed him.
Casteel watched him slip back into sleep and closed his own eyes.