It wasn't the whole truth, even if it hurt. Casteel could feel that much, but he didn't push further. He'd saidat the moment,which told Casteel Nero considered this temporary. Instead, he focused on gathering what they might need—a small knife he'd hidden beneath the mattress, a pouch of dried fruit left with their dinner. And yet the whole time he wondered. In another life, Nero would have been all his dreams come true, except the only reason he was here was because of the threats, because of the bond.
"We need more substantial supplies," Nero muttered, eyeing their meager collection. "Food, water, proper weapons."
"The kitchens," Casteel suggested. "If we make it that far, we can gather provisions."
Nero nodded and eyed the white clothing the priests forced Casteel to wear. "And clothing that doesn't scream 'royal fugitives.'"
They worked methodically, preparing what little they had. Nero tore strips from the bedsheets, fashioning crude but serviceable bindings that could serve as bandages or restraints. Casteel filled a flask with water from the bathing pool.
"The healer—Makim," Casteel said suddenly. "He might help us. He seemed...different from the others. Less interested in prophecies, more concerned with actual wellbeing."
Nero's face hardened. "Too risky."
"But he was the only one who didn't treat me like a vessel for some ancient power. And he warned us about the fever white." Casteel moved closer, lowering his voice further. "If we're caught trying to leave through the main routes, we'll need another option."
Nero studied him, then nodded reluctantly. "If—and only if—we have no other choice. Where would we find him now?"
"His chambers are in the east wing, he told me, near the healing rooms, but I've never been there." Casteel reached for Nero's hand, the touch sending a pleasant warmth up his arm."I wish the passage was accessible. It's not an exit, but it would have helped us avoid the main corridors."
Nero's eyebrows lifted. "What passage? And why didn't you mention this earlier?"
"Because the priests told me they'd disabled the mechanism after I was caught, and it doesn't lead to the outside. And I tried many times and couldn't open it." Casteel pointed toward the ornate tapestry depicting silver wolves running beneath a full moon. "Behind there—a narrow corridor once used by servants to access the royal chambers unseen."
Together, they moved the heavy fabric, revealing smooth stone that appeared seamless at first glance, and Nero had already checked this obvious place. Nero ran his fingers along the wall a second time, feeling for irregularities. Casteel placed his palm against a specific stone and pressed. Nothing happened.
"It still doesn't work," he muttered.
Nero knelt, examining the base of the wall. "I'm sure they sealed it, but sometimes these ancient places have fail-safes." He might have missed something the last time he'd searched. He pulled a thin blade from his boot—a tool Casteel hadn't noticed—and worked it into a nearly invisible seam. "Push again, but harder this time."
Casteel obeyed, throwing his weight against the stone. For a moment, nothing happened, then a grinding sound preceded the stone shifting inward by a finger's width. Nero wedged his blade deeper, working it back and forth until, with a reluctant groan, a section of wall swung inward.
Stale air rushed out, carrying the scent of dust and forgotten spaces. Nero peered into the darkness, then glanced back at Casteel with something like respect.
"You continue to surprise me, stable boy."
Casteel felt a flush of pride that wasn't entirely his own—glimpses of Nero's emotions, brief flashes that revealed morethan the man's stoic expression ever would. He ached for more and in such a small space of time it was ridiculous, but Nero made him feel seen. Okay, so he had come to kill him, but that no longer held true. Casteel had been invisible all his life and being the silver-white wolf still meant he hid behind a mask.
His ma had worked tirelessly to give him a chance to escape, even if this hadn't been the way she had envisioned.
"We need light," Nero whispered, eyeing the oil lamps around the chamber.
"Too risky. Even unshifted my eyesight is better since I got the wolf." Casteel touched Nero's arm. "Stay close."
They slipped into the narrow corridor, closing the hidden door behind them. Darkness enveloped them completely, and Casteel felt Nero tense beside him. Through their bond, a flicker of unease brushed against Casteel's consciousness—not fear, exactly, but discomfort with the absolute darkness.
"This way," Casteel whispered, taking Nero's hand. The touch steadied them both, their connection humming with something Casteel couldn't name. "The passage curves left ahead, then descends."
They moved cautiously, Casteel leading while Nero kept one hand on the rough stone wall. The air grew cooler as they descended, the passage narrowing until their shoulders nearly brushed both sides.
"Where does this lead?" Nero's voice was barely audible.
"If they haven't sealed the other end, we'll emerge near the old library." Casteel paused, listening for any sound beyond their careful footsteps. "From there, we can reach the kitchens without crossing the main corridors."
The darkness seemed to press against them, thick and oppressive. Casteel felt his way forward, each step measured and deliberate. He sensed Nero's focus sharpening, other senses compensating for the lack of sight.
"Stop," Nero whispered suddenly, his hand tightening on Casteel's. "Listen."
Casteel froze, straining to hear what had alerted Nero. For several heartbeats, there was nothing but their controlled breathing. Then—faint but unmistakable—voices echoed from somewhere ahead.
