"You," Casteel snarled, and felt the wolf surge within him, claws and fangs emerging before conscious thought could form.
Eryken halted immediately, raising one hand in a placating gesture while the other rested near his sword hilt. Behind him, Lucan and two other rebels tensed, hands moving to their weapons.
"I come to speak, not fight," Eryken said, his voice deep and steady despite facing a half-transformed shifter. His eyes moved past Casteel to the still form on the altar. "How is he?"
"As if you care," Casteel spat, feeling his canines lengthen as the transformation progressed. "Your archers did this."
"My archers," Eryken agreed, his expression grave, "who were ordered to eliminate the prophesied savior before Doran could use him to consolidate power." He took a careful step forward. "We knew Nero had been captured. No one mentioned a real bonding."
"So, you just decided to murder me without knowing the full situation?" Casteel's voice distorted as his vocal cords shifted, becoming more wolf than human.
"We had reports that Doran was planning to use you as a figurehead for a theocratic takeover," Eryken replied, his voice level despite facing Casteel's partial transformation. "That thousands would die in forced labor camps while the priests seized control of every aspect of Abergennian life."
"So, you chose to kill me instead," Casteel growled, the wolf in him straining for release, demanding blood for Nero's wounds.
"We chose to prevent a tyrant from using you as a weapon against your own people," Eryken corrected, his eyes never leaving Casteel's. "Had we known about the bond—had weknown Nero was truly involved—other options would have been considered."
Lucan stepped forward, his weathered face solemn. "Commander, perhaps we should—"
"Stay back," Casteel snarled, his transformation advancing further as protective rage surged through him. "All of you." He stared at Lucan. "You knew. You saw."
Lucan stared at Casteel and for the second time he saw something like regret. "I fought side by side with Nero for three years. I thought he was playing. He vowed he would never love—"
Lucan clamped his lips closed but Casteel could easily finish the sentence. He vowed he would never love another. After the death of Nero's wife and family. And suddenly Casteel was so sick of everything. He didn't doubt Nero cared for him, but he doubted the reasons. It wasn't simple and yet so complicated human emotions unless you counted protectiveness mixed with a healthy dose of guilt. No, this was simple biology. The bond compelling him. A chill snaked down his spine.
Through their bond, he felt Nero's consciousness stir weakly, responding to his distress. The connection between them pulsed with shared emotion—Nero's presence in his mind a faint but steady beacon despite his unconscious state.
Eryken studied him with the calculating gaze of a seasoned tactician. "You're bonded to him. Truly bonded, not just the theatrical display Doran arranged."
"Yes," Casteel bit out, the single word carrying the weight of everything that had developed between them.
"Then I've made a grave error," Eryken admitted, surprising Casteel with his directness. "One I deeply regret." He gestured toward Nero's still form. "He was one of my most trusted lieutenants and still is a great friend."
The sincerity in his voice gave Casteel pause, the wolf's rage ebbing slightly. "Your regret doesn't heal his wounds."
"No," Eryken agreed. "But perhaps my resources can help ensure his survival." He nodded to one of his men, who produced a small leather pouch. "We have medicines and skilled healers among our ranks. Better equipment than what Makim could carry in his satchel."
Casteel hesitated, torn between distrust and desperate need. Nero's life hung by a thread—could he afford to reject assistance from the man whose orders had caused this?
Before he could decide, Makim returned, arms laden with fresh supplies. The healer assessed the situation with a single glance, then addressed Eryken directly.
"Your archers use poisoned tips?" he asked, his tone clinical rather than accusatory.
Eryken shook his head. "Not today. Standard broadheads. No poison."
Makim nodded, some tension leaving his shoulders. "Good. That simplifies treatment." He moved past Casteel to check Nero's bandages. "His pulse is stronger than I expected. The bond is helping to stabilize him."
"The bond?" Eryken asked.
"The bonding magic," Makim explained, adjusting the bandages with practiced efficiency. "It links their life forces. As long as one remains strong, both are sustained." His weathered eyes found Casteel's, but Casteel shook his head. He didn't trust Eryken with the knowledge he was life dependent on Nero"
Makim checked Nero's pulse again. "The bond is keeping him alive, but it's also drawing on Casteel's strength. If this continues much longer they will both be sick." Sick didn't cover it, but the implication hung heavy in the chamber's stale air.
Casteel swayed on his feet, suddenly aware of the exhaustion creeping through his limbs. He could feel himself pouringenergy into Nero's failing body, sustaining his mate at the cost of his own.
"How long?" Eryken asked quietly.
"Six bells, perhaps a full day if we're fortunate," Makim replied. "Unless we can break the cycle somehow."
