Nero brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to Casteel's palm. "We won't die tomorrow. Whatever Aldric has planned, whatever chaos erupts—we'll survive it."
The certainty in his voice sent strength flowing through their bond. He knew Casteel felt some of the fear that had been gnawing at him ease, replaced by a fierce determination that was purely Nero's—a survivor's refusal to yield. He got up and, with a little of the bath water, gently cleaned Casteel before getting back in bed.
"Sleep," Nero murmured, drawing Casteel against his chest. "I'll watch over you."
Nero remained awake long into the night, listening to the subtle sounds of the palace settling around them. Somewhere in the darkness, guards paced their routes. Servants crept through corridors on late errands. And in the depths of the building, he was certain, Doran plotted their next moves in his campaign for absolute power.
Through the windows, the stars wheeled overhead, marking the passage of time that brought them closer to whatever trial awaited with dawn. Nero found himself memorizing the weight of Casteel in his arms, the sound of his quiet breathing, the way moonlight caught in his dark hair. Nero knew he should stop touching Casteel. He could give enough to maintain the bond, but he had to stop being drawn to his body.
He woke eventually with his arms wrapped around Casteel and it felt so good he got out of bed before he was tempted to do more.
He had a decision to make. Casteel was young. He shouldn't be saddled with a bitter older man. Maybe when this was done there would be a way to free Casteel of him? Of this obligation.
He needed to do the best thing for Casteel even if it wasn't the best thing for him.
Chapter Ten
Casteel woke before dawnto find Nero already dressed, standing at the window with the rigid stillness of a soldier preparing for battle. He felt his mate's tension like a bowstring drawn taut.
"How long until the announcement?" Casteel asked, disappointment at an empty bed making him sit up quickly.
"Two full bells, perhaps three." Nero didn't turn from the window. "The square is already filling with people."
Casteel joined him, pressing close enough that their shoulders touched. Below, torches bobbed through the pre-dawn darkness as citizens claimed prime viewing positions. Even from this height, he could see the desperate hope in their movements—mothers lifting children for better views, elderly men leaning heavily on walking sticks rather than miss this moment.
"They believe in a lie," Casteel murmured, his chest tightening with guilt. "They think we'll save them."
"You might," Nero replied grimly. "Just not in the way they expect."
A sharp knock interrupted them. Without waiting for permission, Doran entered, flanked by servants carrying ornate ceremonial robes—deeper blues and silvers than yesterday, with more elaborate embroidery depicting wolves and flames intertwined.
"Today marks the true beginning," Doran announced, his eyes bright with anticipation. "Your first royal decree will reshape Abergenny forever."
Casteel accepted the heavy robes, noting how the fabric seemed designed more for display than comfort. The collar was stiff with gold thread, the sleeves weighed down with ceremonial chains that would restrict movement. Symbolic shackles.
"The decree," Casteel said carefully. "I need to review it before the announcement."
Doran's smile was razor-thin. "Of course. Though I trust you'll find it acceptable—it was inspired by divine guidance received during prayer."
He produced a scroll of parchment, unrolling it with theatrical flourish. The script was elegant, official, stamped with seals that would make it legally binding the moment Casteel spoke the words aloud.
Nero moved closer, ostensibly to help Casteel with the ceremonial chains but actually to read over his shoulder. Casteel felt his mate's mounting horror as the decree's true scope became clear.
Mandatory military service for all men aged sixteen to thirty-five. Seizure of "underutilized" farmland for redistribution under church supervision. New taxes to fund the Silver Guard. Restrictions on travel between provinces without religious authorization. Each provision was worse than the last, collectively painting a picture of absolute control.
"This will destroy the kingdom," Casteel said, his voice barely steady.
"This will save it," Doran corrected smoothly. "Order from chaos. Purpose from desperation. The people need strong guidance during these trials."
Casteel could feel Nero project calm even as rage simmered beneath his surface thoughts. Play along, his emotions whispered. They had to get out before Casteel was forced to read it and it became law.
"I understand the...necessity," Casteel said carefully, rolling the parchment back up with hands that barely trembled. "Though perhaps we could discuss some minor adjustments before—"
"There is no time," Doran interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "The people grow restless. Every moment we delay, their faith wavers." His cold eyes fixed on Casteel's face. “There must be no dissent. After all, the belief of the people is what elevated you to this position.”
The threat was clear. Do anything to violate Doran’s orders and he would make sure the people no longer believed in their savior. Lose that and there would be no need to keep their bond. Casteel knew the quickest way to ensure their deaths would be to separate them. They had already proven that. He knew Doran was bluffing to a certain extent, but the fact remained he had the power to tear them apart.
"Of course," Casteel replied, the words tasting like ashes. "The gods' will be done."
