Chapter Twenty-Five
One Month Later
The palace walls seemed to breathe with relief as Casteel and Nero passed through the great iron gates, their small entourage trailing behind them.
Victory had come at a terrible cost—towns reduced to ash, fields salted with blood, families torn apart by Doran's madness.
But the Silver Guard had finally broken at Ravenscar Ridge, their remaining forces scattering like leaves before winter's first harsh wind.
It would be another hard few months while they sorted out the punishments for those that had reveled in every cruel order and the ones just caught between a rock and a hard place.
Aldric for one. He'd been imprisoned immediately after being captured coming back to try to free his family.
Barely a few days ago, Eryken had reported after questioning one of the silver guards that apparently it had been an infiltrator sent by Lord Verris that had been the traitor.
Aldric had indeed been loyal to the rebellion and had only betrayed them at the end when Doran had threatened his family.
Casteel knew he'd do anything to protect his own family, and Nero agreed. The day Eryken had told them, they sent word back to release Aldric, and Eryken told them they were going to live a few towns away with his newly widowed sister-in-law and run their farm.
Casteel felt the ripple of the wolf under his skin.
Having the wolf the first time had felt all kinds of wrong, and if he could have given it back to Nero in those first few days after getting it the second time, he would have in a heartbeat, but despite what he'd done in the crypts, having the wolf hadn't sent him on a murderous rampage.
Tempering by Nero's soul had brought a maturity with it, and Casteel was now comfortable in his own skin.
Casteel glanced over at his mate. Nero was exactly the same, as commanding yet gentle as he had always been. He certainly hadn't somehow become lacking without the wolf soul.
"Home," Nero murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion as they dismounted in the inner courtyard.
Servants rushed forward to take their horses, bowing deeply to the Silver Wolf and his mate.
Or home for now. They had their goal of raising a family and horses, and would leave the governing to those elected to do so.
Casteel nodded absently, his eyes already scanning for a small figure among the welcoming crowd.
He spotted River waiting on the palace steps, the boy's face lighting up at their approach.
The child launched himself into Casteel's arms, then Nero's, babbling questions about battles and adventures that could wait for later. They’d had barely five days with River after the crypt, enough time for Nero to recover, and then they had no choice but to leave River for what they both considered the final time.
"You came back," River said finally, his small hands clutching at Casteel's travel-worn cloak.
"We promised, didn't we?" Casteel replied, ruffling the boy's hair. He felt Nero's fierce satisfaction at the reunion, his mate's protective instincts settling now that their small pack was together again.
Later, after baths and a meal that neither man could finish despite days of field rations, they collapsed into the massive bed in the royal chambers.
River had fallen asleep in a chair beside them, refusing to let either man out of his sight.
Nero had carried him to the adjoining room, tucking him in with a gentleness that still surprised those who knew only the warrior's deadly reputation.
When Nero returned to their chambers, he found Casteel sitting by the window, moonlight painting his profile in soft strokes.
The events of the past two moons had left their marks—a new scar along Casteel's collarbone where a blade had cut, shadows beneath his eyes that spoke of nightmares not quite banished.
But the wolf-soul had healed most of his wounds, leaving him stronger than before.
Casteel watched Nero slip the door closed and felt the soft thud of the latch echo in the silent hall. “He’s finally asleep,” Nero murmured behind him, voice low enough that only Casteel’s keen ears caught the tremor. “I had to promise him three times we’d still be here when he wakes.”
A tired smile warmed Casteel’s face. He would make sure that fear left their son's eyes. “Can you blame him? Every time we step away, it feels as if the world bursts into flames.”
Nero crossed the room in long, sure steps and settled behind Casteel.
Strong hands curved over his shoulders, kneading away the tension Casteel hadn’t realized he was carrying.
Warm breath brushed his neck before Nero’s lips met his skin.
“Not anymore,” he whispered, and the press of those lips chased away the lingering echo of too long a journey. “The fighting’s done.”
Casteel tipped his head, letting Nero claim more of him. He answered with the quiet pragmatism of a warrior. “For now.”
“For now is enough.” Nero’s hands slid down Casteel’s arms, found his chest beneath the thin weave of the sleeping shirt, and Casteel felt the steady thrum of his own heart. He remembered the moment in the crypt when he had practically heard Nero's heart give its last beat.
Turning in Nero’s embrace, Casteel met those still silver-flecked eyes. “I felt you, feel you” he breathed, voice intimate and raw. “Even when the wolf returned, I felt you—like you were part of it.”
“I am.” Nero’s fingers traced the strong line of Casteel’s jaw, marveling at the resilience there.
“We’re bound in ways even Doran couldn’t understand.
” Their kiss began soft, then flared as Nero pressed him back against the wall.
Calloused fingertips slipped beneath the edge of his shirt, finding warm skin and old scars, teasing out reactions Casteel had almost forgotten he could feel.
A gasp slipped from him, half plea, half surrender.
“River—” Casteel started.
“Is sound asleep,” Nero rumbled, his voice thick with desire.
That certainty freed Casteel’s hands to roam Nero’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer.
Nero lifted Casteel easily and carried him to the massive bed draped in silken sheets.
They collapsed together, limbs entwining, clothes catching on bedposts.
Casteel’s shirt vanished first, tossed aside as Nero’s mouth traced a scorching path down his chest.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Nero murmured against his skin, voice cracking on the memory that wouldn't leave him anytime soon. “In the crypts, when Doran—”
“I’m here,” Casteel replied, pressing a burning kiss to Nero’s lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Nero hummed in apparent agreement. One hand pinned Casteel’s wrists above his head; the other loosened the ties of his sleeping wraps until he could pull down the fabric.
Casteel arched beneath him, silver eyes bright with the wolf’s anticipation.
“Need you,” Nero growled, shedding the last of his own clothes and reaching for the oil at the bedside.
Slick fingers teased Casteel’s entrance, circling until Casteel’s breath hitched, heart pounding so loud he feared all the palace might hear.
Then Nero pressed in, slow and deliberate.
Casteel gasped, every nerve alive. “More,” Casteel whispered, legs parting as Nero introduced finger after careful finger. When Nero finally positioned himself and filled him wholly, they both stifled moans, Nero burying his face in Casteel’s neck.
“So perfect,” Nero breathed, holding still for Casteel to adjust.
“Move,” Casteel urged softly, weaving his fingers into Nero’s hair. “Need to feel you.” Nero obeyed, drawing back and driving forward in slow, powerful thrusts that became urgent, reckless. The bed groaned beneath them while Casteel’s fingers carved crescents into Nero’s skin.
“I love you,” Casteel cried out as Nero struck that perfect spot inside him. His voice trembled with need.
Nero captured his mouth in a fierce kiss, one hand slipping between them to stroke Casteel’s length in time with his thrusts. “Mine,” he growled. “Always mine.”
The dual pressure—Nero within him and Nero’s hand around him—sent Casteel spiraling.
It had been too long, way too long. Silver light pulsed beneath his skin as he tumbled over the edge, a strangled cry splitting his lips.
Nero followed seconds later, shuddering through his release and collapsing atop Casteel.
Their sweat-slick bodies clung together as they fought for breath.
By the time their heartbeats slowed, Nero had rolled to his side, one arm draped possessively across Casteel’s chest. Casteel traced Nero’s jaw with a gentle finger and let out a soft laugh. “I missed that. Hard to find privacy in an army camp.”
“We’ll have plenty once we build our home,” Nero murmured against his shoulder. “Far from palaces and politics.”
Casteel turned his head to kiss Nero’s temple. “A family,” he whispered. “After everything, we get a family.”
Nero briefly cleaned them both then got back into bed, drawing Casteel against his chest. "Sleep. The kingdom will still need rebuilding tomorrow."
But sleep eluded Casteel, even as Nero's breathing deepened beside him. The wolf-soul paced restlessly beneath his skin, responding to something he couldn't name. After a bell of staring at the ceiling, he slipped from beneath Nero's arm and padded silently to the window.
The palace grounds stretched below, lit by moonlight. Beyond the formal gardens lay the royal stables. Something pulled him toward them, an instinct as inexplicable as it was insistent.
He dressed quickly and made his way through the silent corridors, nodding to the guards who recognized him instantly. The night air carried the first hint of autumn as he crossed the gardens, dew dampening the hem of his leg wraps.
The stable lanterns burned low, most of the grooms asleep except for a single night watchman, who came around the corner clearly doing his rounds.