Eryken hesitated. "The nobles meet five days hence. It would take us three days to reach Morven's estate, assuming we travel carefully and avoid the main roads."
"That gives me two days to regain strength," Nero calculated, though speaking the words aloud made the timeline seem impossibly compressed.
"Two days?" Casteel's voice cracked with disbelief. "You were dying three days ago!"
Nero felt his mate's fear like a physical weight. But beneath it, he also sensed something else—a growing understanding that they couldn't remain static while Doran's power grew unchecked.
"What exactly would this meeting entail?" Casteel asked, his tone resigned but cautious.
Eryken's expression grew more animated. "Twelve of the most powerful northern houses, plus representatives from the eastern provinces. Together, they control nearly half the kingdom's resources—trade routes, grain stores, half of what's left of themilitary." He leaned forward. "If we could convince them to withdraw support from Doran's regime..."
"Civil war," Nero finished grimly. "That's what you're proposing."Again.
"Civil war is coming regardless," Eryken countered. "Doran's Silver Guard grows larger each day. He's already moving against anyone who questions his authority. The question isn't whether blood will be shed—it's whose blood, when, and for what purpose."
Nero felt Casteel's turmoil—the weight of responsibility, the fear of causing more suffering, the desperate desire to find another path. He reached for his mate's hand, squeezing it gently.
"We need time to discuss this," Nero told Eryken, his voice leaving no room for argument despite his weakened state. "Alone."
Eryken nodded, rising from his chair with the careful movements of a man nursing his own wounds. "Of course. But remember—time is the one resource we're quickly running out of." He paused at the doorway. "Makim says you should be able to move short distances tomorrow. I'll have someone bring fresh clothes and maps of the northern routes."
After the door closed behind him, silence stretched between them. Casteel moved to the small window, pushing aside the edge of the boarding to peer at the street below.
He felt trapped. “Have you heard of the Skellarae Stallions?”
He heard Nero move slightly and turned to see his mate watching him. “The legend?” Nero queried, clearly surprised at the complete change of subject.
Casteel nodded, his eyes growing distant with old longing. "My ma used to tell me stories about them when I was small. Horses that could run faster than the wind, with coats that shimmered like a midnight sky. They were said to bond with their riders the way..." He gestured vaguely between them.
"The way we have," Nero finished, understanding flickering in his dark eyes.
"According to the stories, they were the most magnificent creatures in all the known kingdoms. Intelligent, loyal, nearly magical in their abilities." Casteel's voice took on a wistful quality. "But over six hundred years ago, King Constantine of Vaelthorne coveted them desperately. When the Abergenny emperor refused to sell even a single breeding pair, Constantine sent poisoners to corrupt the water sources near their grazing grounds."
Nero shifted carefully on the bed, his attention fully captured despite his pain. "All of them?"
"Every last one, or so the stories claim. The Skellarae were intelligent creatures—they wouldn't drink from tainted streams, but their foals did. The poison worked slowly, poisoning the mares as they grew so they were unable to have any more foals." Casteel's fists clenched at his sides. "Within fifteen years, the most beautiful horses in the world were extinct."
"And you believe they might still exist?" Nero asked gently, though he could feel how much this meant to his mate.
Casteel shook his head. “Not really. It’s just, the northern valleys near Morven's estate—that's where the last herd was said to live. Hidden valleys, mountains that few men ever see." Casteel turned from the window, his blue eyes bright withdesperate hope. "If even a few survived, if they learned to hide deeper in the mountains..."
"You want to search for them," Nero realized. And their journey was why Casteel mentioned it now. It had seemed an odd change of subject, but maybe not so much.
"I've dreamed of it since I was a child," Casteel admitted, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "To find them, to prove they're real. To breed them back from extinction." He laughed bitterly. "Foolish dreams for a stable boy with no coin and no prospects."
Nero felt the depth of his mate's longing through their bond—not just for the horses themselves, but for the freedom they represented. A life beyond prophecies and politics, beyond being used as a symbol by others.
"Perhaps not so foolish," Nero said quietly. They were travelling north but there wasn’t time to divert to trek through the mountains, not on the way there, but he wanted so badly to give that to Casteel.
"You think I'm mad," Casteel said, moving back to the bed. "Chasing legends while kingdoms fall around us."
"I think," Nero said, catching Casteel's hand and pulling him down beside him, "that you've spent your whole life giving up your dreams. Maybe it's time to chase them."
Warmth flowed between them—not the desperate intensity of their early connection, but something deeper and more sustaining. Casteel leaned carefully against Nero's uninjured side, each drawing strength from the other.
"If we go north," Casteel said slowly, "and if we somehow survive this meeting with the nobles...would you come with me afterwards? To search for them?"
Nero's answer came without hesitation. "If you truly want me to. I'm—" Nero paused. "many years older than you. I knowwe're tied because of this bond, but if I could free you, know that I would."
