The healer straightened, his piercing gaze fixing on Nero. "The bonding was initiated but not completed. His body is...reacting."
"Reacting?" Nero repeated incredulously. "He's burning alive!"
"In a manner of speaking, yes." Makim turned to the guard. "Leave us."
The guard hesitated. "High Priest Doran instructed—"
"I don't care what Doran instructed," Makim snapped with surprising authority. "Out. Now."
Once the door closed behind the reluctant guard, the healer turned back to Nero. "This is a heat-fever. When the bonding begins but remains unconsummated, the body reacts like this.”
“Then do something,” Nero practically yelled.
Makim glowered. “I can't," he said pointedly. "I’m not hismate.”
Chapter Five
Makim didn’t hold back.“Are you really so foolish? I repeat, this is because the bond has not been completed.”
Nero blinked. “But—
"When the bonding begins but remains unconsummated, the body attempts to force completion," Makim explained, his voice clinical yet tinged with urgency. "His wolf is asserting dominance, demanding the bond be sealed."
"That's ridiculous," Nero protested, even as he watched Casteel's body tremble again. "He was fine less than a bell ago."
"The first touch triggered the process. The mark on your neck—" Makim gestured toward Nero's nape, "—is the physical manifestation of an ancient magic awakening. His body is responding to that call."
Nero ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "So what, we're supposed to just...fuck each other against our will?
Nero turned away, his mind racing. Maya's face flashed before him—her smile, her warmth, the way she'd whispered his name in their final moments together. The thought of being withanyone else felt like betrayal, yet watching Casteel suffer tore at something deep inside him.
"There must be another way," he insisted. "Some herb or potion—"
"If there was, don't you think I would have administered it already?" Makim snapped, his patience wearing thin. He reached into his robes and withdrew a small vial of amber liquid. "This will ease his pain temporarily, but it cannot halt the progression. The fever will return, stronger each time, until..."
He didn't need to finish the sentence. Nero understood the implication all too well.
Makim's weathered face softened with unexpected compassion. "I understand your reluctance. But understand this: if the bond remains incomplete, he will die."
"You can't know that," Nero argued, though doubt crept into his voice as Casteel moaned, his skin now radiating heat like a forge.
"I've seen it before," Makim said quietly. "A noble's son and his true mate. They rejected the bond. By morning, one was dead, and I’m pretty sure guilt made the other one wish he was."
Nero paced, mind racing. "There must be another way."
"I've tried everything in my considerable knowledge," Makim interrupted. He poured some liquid from a jug by the daybed into an empty goblet, and crushed herbs into it, his movements efficient despite his age. "Here, help me get him to drink."
“No.” Nero yanked the goblet from Makim’s hand. “The wine, the juice, it was poisoned with fever white.”
Makim's face darkened with genuine anger. "Doran's work, no doubt. That man twists sacred traditions to suit his purposes." He shook his head in disgust. "Fever white is dangerous enough without mixing it with bond-magic." He pulled out a small, corked bottle from his pack. "This is water. There is no way itcan be successfully hidden in an odorless liquid." He held it up to Nero, who sniffed.
“Why should I trust you?”
"I serve the healing arts, not men's ambitions," Makim replied, checking Casteel's pulse again. "The prophecy has been...interpreted to serve certain interests."
"But you still believe I should..." Nero couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.
Makim sighed heavily. "What I believe matters little. His condition is deteriorating rapidly. Without completion of the bond, he will not survive until dawn." Together, they lifted Casteel's head, coaxing the bitter liquid past his parched lips. Some of it spilled down his chin, but he swallowed enough that Makim nodded in satisfaction. He gathered his supplies, movements betraying his weariness.
