Nero stiffened as fury roared through him. How dare they hurt— But then he stopped. This man was nothing to him, and he had to make sure he wasn't drawn into this nonsense. Nero approached the bed, examining the intricate carvings on its posts—wolves and crowns intertwined with flowering vines. "And this...bonding. What exactly will it do to us?"
Casteel's face darkened. "According to what I’ve been told, we'll become linked—physically, mentally, emotionally. Neither able to stray far from the other without pain.”
“Bloody brilliant,” Nero muttered.
Just then both doors opened, and a line of servants moved forward each carrying tall jugs, followed by more carrying some sort of fabric. The priest was back. “We are preparing the bathing rites, and we will leave wine and more food before we go.”
He paused. “We have left personal items for your relaxation and enjoyment by the bath. The wines are of the best quality, but there is juice as well." Nero's temper rose. People were starving yet the priests had all this? A female servant turned and lifted her hands to Nero as if she was going to undo his shirt and he stepped back.
“I don’t think so.”
Casteel watched him as another servant drew Casteel's shirt from his shoulders, but then he turned to the priest. “I think it is better if you leave us.”
The priest looked like he was going to refuse but Nero added,” I'm not getting naked with an audience.”
The priest heaved a heavy sigh of burden but clapped his hands and all the servants trooped out. He met Casteel’s eyes and inclined his head. “We will return at dawn.”
It was a warning.
Nero watched as they all trooped out, then he rubbed his head. What in seven hells was he supposed to do?
“Wine? Fruit juice?” Casteel offered. "That's a first. I always just got water."
"No water now?"
Casteel shook his head.
"I'll take the fruit juice," Nero said, eyeing the wine suspiciously. His time in the rebellion had taught him to be wary of anything that might dull his senses.
Casteel poured the deep amber liquid into a goblet and handed it to him. Nero accepted it, their fingers brushing momentarily. Even that slight contact sent a jolt of warmth up his arm, and he nearly dropped the cup.
“We have all night to work out how the hell to escape,” Casteel muttered and clinked his own goblet with Nero’s. Nero raised it to his lips but paused, inhaling deeply. A barely there bitter undertone beneath the fruity scent made his stomach clench, and he almost took too long to react.
"No!" Nero lunged forward, knocking the goblet from Casteel's hand just as he raised it to his lips. The liquid splashed across the marble floor, droplets spattering the edge of Casteel's leg wraps.
"What are you—" Casteel began, but Nero silenced him with a sharp gesture, crouching to examine the spilled drink. He dipped his finger in the puddle and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply.
"Fever white," he growled, wiping his hand on his trousers. "Diluted, but unmistakable."
Casteel's eyes widened. "You're certain?"
"I spent three years watching it destroy half the rebellion, and most of the army. I know its scent." Nero moved to the pitcher and sniffed that too, his expression darkening. "The whole batch is tainted." he eyed Casteel. “Living here, I’m surprised you didn’t see its effects.”
Casteel scoffed. “Above the stables? The only place I ever went to in the palace was the kitchens. The first time I went into the palace was after the rebellion. I’ve been working for the priests. All the palace horses are gone, and the armies are elsewhere, but they still need someone to do what the priests are too grand for,” Casteel muttered and backed away from the spilled liquid as if it might leap up and attack him. "They must have drugged it."
Nero's jaw clenched. "To ensure our 'cooperation,' no doubt. Fever white lowers inhibitions, heightens sensation. Makes you...pliable." he sighed. “And makes you an addict. I doubt if someone your size would have been able to resist it after two doses, even watered down as it was."
Understanding dawned on Casteel's face, followed swiftly by disgust. "They would force us into this bond through manipulation rather than choice."
"Are you really surprised?" Nero kicked the empty goblet, sending it skittering across the floor. "Your priests will do anything to fulfill their precious prophecy."
"They're not my priests," Casteel snapped, then paused, examining the other items left by the servants. "We should check everything."
They moved methodically through the chamber, examining each dish, drink, and item left for their "comfort." The fruit appeared untainted, but the broth, juice and wine carried the same sweet undertone of fever white.
"They thought of everything," Nero muttered, picking up a crystal bottle of oil and smelling it, which even he knew was ridiculous as fever white needed to be ingested.
Casteel sat heavily on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his dark hair. "What do we do now? And what are we supposed to drink?"
