Casteel felt a flicker of hope ignite in his chest. "Where can we find her?"
"Blood magic is dangerous—unpredictable," Eryken warned.
"More dangerous than trying to travel in his condition?" Casteel countered, already rising to his feet. "More unpredictable than Silver Guard patrols?" Eryken didn’t reply. Casteel’s heart pounded because the bond was barely a whisper now. If he hadn't heard Nero's short rattle of breath he would have died himself.
The innkeeper's wife was already moving toward the door. "I'll fetch her. She doesn't come to the inn—too many strangers. But for this..." Her eyes lingered on their clasped hands, understanding in her gaze. "She'll come."
After she departed, the room fell into tense silence. Makim continued working on Nero's wounds, applying fresh poultices and bandages with practiced efficiency. Eryken and Lucan conferred in low voices near the window, discussing routes and contingencies.
Casteel closed his eyes and tried to focus on Nero, but he knew his reserves of strength were low. An image of his ma came into his head, so real, so vibrant it was almost as if she was there.
There had been no time to get to know Nero properly and he ached to be able to do that. He wanted to share stories of his ma. How she was so insistent he learn his letters and always spoke as if he had something to say that others would want to hear. Howfunny she was. What she did to protect him. He knew he was the reason she stayed at the palace.
Kathy was one of the kitchen cooks, and a great friend of his ma's. When she became sick that last time, Kathy had gently told him he was going to have a brother but the baby had been born too early and too little to survive. Casteel would have loved a brother to teach to read himself. To teach how to look after the horses. Maybe they would have bred the Skellarae together.
He glanced at Nero. He'd loved two people in his life. The first one had been dead a long time. He’d be damned if he would let it happen a second time.
"Blood magic always takes more than it gives," Makim murmured, dragging Casteel out of his thoughts, his dark eyes finding his. "It's a transference from you. The price—"
"Is mine to pay," Casteel interrupted firmly. "My choice." He didn't care what it was.
Before Makim could respond, the door opened, and the innkeeper's wife returned with a figure draped in a dark woolen cloak. The newcomer pushed back her hood to reveal an elderly woman with silver-streaked hair and eyes the color of storm clouds. Despite her advanced age, she moved with the sure-footed grace of someone accustomed to mountain paths.
"Show me," she said without preamble, her voice carrying the authority of someone who had seen too much suffering to waste time on pleasantries.
Casteel stepped aside as the mountain healer approached the bed where Nero lay unconscious. Her weathered hands hovered over his bandaged chest, not quite touching but somehow sensing the extent of his injuries through means Casteel couldn't fathom.
"Arrow wounds, deep," she murmured, her eyes closing in concentration. "But the life force bleeds away faster than the body can restore it." Her storm-gray gaze fixed on Casteel. "Hehas lost too much. But you're bonded to him. I can feel the connection—strong but getting weaker as there isn't enough blood to feed all parts of him."
"Can you help him?" Casteel asked, desperation threading his voice.
The healer studied them both with unnerving intensity. "Blood magic can mend what conventional healing cannot. But the price..." She paused, her expression growing grave. "It will not be your life that pays the cost, young wolf. It will be your wolf soul itself."
The words hit Casteel like a physical blow. "My wolf?"
"The silver wolf is the source of your power, your connection to the ancient magic that runs through this land." The healer's voice was gentle but implacable. "To save him, I would need to channel that power directly into his failing body. The magic would burn through your wolf-soul like kindling, leaving you human."
Through their bond, Casteel felt a flicker of Nero's consciousness, his mate somehow sensing the gravity of the conversation even in his unconscious state.
"Absolutely not! The prophecy—" Eryken began.
"Would be fulfilled by the new vessel if the wolf accepts the change, or maybe not at all," the healer finished. "There are other wolves in the world, though none carry the silver mark as far as I know." Her eyes never left Casteel's face. "But there is only one bond like yours."
Casteel's hands trembled as he reached for Nero's still form. Without his wolf, he would be ordinary—no longer the prophesied savior, no longer possessing the power that made him valuable to either Doran or the rebellion. Just a stable boy who loved a dying man.
"Yes," he whispered, knowing he had no choice. There wasn't a world in which he wanted to live if Nero didn't.
"There may be other consequences," she said slowly, and Casteel dragged his gaze away from Nero.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you may no longer be life dependent on one another." She shrugged. "Some might see that a boon."
Casteel frowned. "What—"
"She means you won't get mate sickness if you are apart from each other," Eryken explained.
Makim frowned. "This is more than matesickness, Eryken. If Nero dies you lose Casteel as well." Eryken's lips parted in astonishment, but Casteel took no notice. It wasn't a question really. He didn't care for his own life when held against Nero's. His only sadness was that Nero wouldn't need him any longer.
