Chapter 13 #3
Makim worked with practiced efficiency, cutting away the blood-soaked bandages and applying fresh ones with herbs packed tightly against the wounds. Nero endured in silence, his eyes never leaving Casteel's face.
"This will hold for a time," Makim said finally, securing the last bandage. "But he needs proper rest, clean dressings, and stronger medicine."
"None of which we'll find here," Nero said, pushing himself upright with effort. "What's our exit strategy?"
Lucan had returned from scouting the upper level.
"There's a delivery wagon in the alley behind the brewery," Lucan reported in hushed tones. "Driver's gone, probably fled when he saw the Silver Guard. We could use it to get through the city gates—less conspicuous than trying to move on foot."
Eryken nodded grimly. "The northern gate is our best option. Captain Aldric has contacts there—guards who might look the other way for the right price."
"And if they don't?" Casteel asked, helping Nero toward the stairs despite his mate's attempt to walk independently.
"Then we fight our way through," Eryken replied with the cold pragmatism that had kept him alive through years of rebellion. "But it won't come to that. The guards at the northern gate have families to feed—they'll take our gold and ask no questions."
They climbed the brewery stairs in tense silence, each creak of old wood seeming to echo like thunder in the stillness. At the top, Lucan peered through a grimy window before gesturing them forward.
The delivery wagon was exactly as described—a sturdy cart with high wooden sides and a canvas cover, designed for hauling grain or other bulk goods. The horses were still in their traces, stamping nervously at the sounds of conflict drifting from the direction of the boarding house.
"Get in the back," Eryken ordered, checking the harness quickly. "Stay low and stay quiet. If we're stopped, you're injured farmers fleeing the unrest in the eastern quarter."
Casteel helped Nero into the wagon bed, trying not to jar his wounds as they settled among empty grain sacks and straw. Through their bond, he felt his mate's pain like a constant ache but also sensed Nero's grim satisfaction at being in motion again, taking action rather than lying helpless.
Makim climbed in beside them, his healer's satchel clutched tightly. "I've packed supplies for several days," he whispered. "Pain draughts, binding herbs, fever reducers. But if infection sets in..."
"It won't," Casteel said with more confidence than he felt, his hand finding Nero's in the straw. "The bond will help him heal."
Lucan took the driver's seat while Eryken positioned himself as lookout. With a gentle snap of reins, the wagon lurched into motion, wheels creaking over cobblestones as they began their perilous journey through the city.
Through gaps in the canvas, Casteel caught glimpses of Abergenny in chaos.
Smoke rose from multiple points across the city, and Silver Guard patrols moved through the streets with increased frequency.
Citizens hurried past with their heads down, unwilling to meet the eyes of armed men who served a High Priest rather than their rightful king.
"This is what I've brought them," Casteel whispered, guilt weighing heavily on his chest. "Civil war, brother fighting brother.”
"You didn't bring this," Nero replied firmly, his voice low but steady despite the pain.
"Doran did. The moment he decided to use you as a puppet for his ambitions.
" Through their bond, Casteel felt his mate's conviction even if he wasn't sure he agreed.
"These people were already suffering—drought, famine, corrupt officials bleeding them dry. You're not the cause of their pain."
The wagon jolted over a particularly rough patch of road, and Nero didn't seem able to hold back a groan, his hand tightening around Casteel's. Through the canvas covering, they could hear Eryken speaking in low, casual tones to someone—likely a checkpoint guard.
"Papers for the grain delivery," came an unfamiliar voice, gruff with authority.
"Right here," Eryken replied smoothly.
The rustle of papers was followed by a pause that stretched too long for comfort. Casteel held his breath, feeling Nero tense beside him despite his weakened state. Through their bond came a pulse of readiness—even wounded, his mate was prepared to fight if necessary.
"Thought you'd have stayed inside with all the guards about," the man observed suspiciously eyeing the cart.
"Lot of coin for grain," Eryken countered with a merchant's pragmatic chuckle. "My customers don't ask questions when their children are hungry."
He heard the sound of papers rustling again, then heavy footsteps walking around the wagon. Casteel pressed closer to Nero, both of them trying to become invisible beneath the canvas and straw. The footsteps paused near the back of the wagon, and Casteel's heart hammered against his ribs.
"What's in the back?" the guard called.
"Empty sacks and packing straw," Eryken replied without hesitation. "Delivered the grain yesterday—this is the return trip."
More footsteps, then the creak of leather as someone climbed up to examine the wagon bed. Through a gap in the canvas, Casteel caught a glimpse of silver armor—one of Doran's elite guards, not a simple gatekeeper who might be bribed.
The guard's hand reached for the canvas flap. Casteel felt the wolf stir within him, responding to the threat with predatory awareness. Beside him, Nero's breathing had gone completely silent, every muscle coiled despite his injuries.
Then came the sound of hoofbeats approaching at speed, and shouted orders from somewhere behind them.
"Captain!" a voice called urgently. "Silver Guard dispatch from the palace—priority orders!"
The hand on the canvas hesitated, then withdrew. Heavy footsteps moved away from the wagon as the guard went to receive his new orders. Through the gap, Casteel watched armed riders in pristine silver armor conferring with the checkpoint guards, their voices too low to make out specific words.
"Move along," came the gruff command, and so, hearts somewhere in their throats, they did.
Casteel turned to Nero but fear caught and held his tongue. The bandages on his chest were red with blood.