"They must have doubled back," the captain decided, remounting his horse. "Signal the eastern team to circle around."
As the patrol moved away, Nero felt River trembling against him. "You're very brave," he whispered. "Just a little longer."
The boy nodded against his shoulder, still maintaining his silence. Through their bond, Casteel's presence suddenly pulsed with startling clarity—not just emotion now, but an image, fleeting but unmistakable. Horses unlike any Nero had ever seen, their coats shimmering like a starry night. And among them, Casteel, his face alight with wonder.
The Skellarae. The legendary horses Casteel had spoken of.
Somehow, impossibly, his mate had found them—or they had found him.
"We need to move," Nero whispered to River. "My mate is east of here, in a hidden valley."
They climbed higher, using the deepening shadows for cover as they traversed the ridge above the searching patrols. Nero's enhanced strength made the journey possible, carrying River and encouraging him to eat the bread. Night fell fully as they reached the eastern side of the ridge, revealing a vast expanse of mountains stretching toward the horizon.
Through their bond, Casteel's presence was stronger now, guiding Nero like a lodestone. His mate wasn't alone—the impression of the shimmering horses remained, as if Casteel were in their company.
"I see lights." River pointed toward a distant valley, having just woken up again.
Nero followed the child's gesture and spotted what he'd missed—more Silver Guard, converging from the east.
"They're trying to surround the valley," Nero realized aloud.
The guards were moving with military precision toward the very gap where Nero sensed Casteel's presence. Whatever sanctuary his mate had found among the legendary horses, it was about to be discovered.
"We have to warn them," Nero muttered, adjusting his grip on River as he began picking his way down the treacherous slope.
Through their bond, Nero felt Casteel's emotions shift from wonder to alarm. His mate had seen the approaching soldiers too.
The gap between the peaks loomed ahead, torchlight now visible, streaming through from both sides. Nero crested the final ridge just as the first Silver Guard riders emerged into a hidden valley that took his breath away—crystal streams and starlit meadows where dozens of the black horses grazed.
And there, at the valley's heart, Casteel stood beside a magnificent mare whose coat seemed to capture and reflect the very stars themselves. His mate's face was set with grim determination as he watched the soldiers pour through the valley's entrance, their torches turning the peaceful sanctuary into a scene from a nightmare.
"Surrender the horses to the High Priest's service," the lead captain called across the meadow, his voice echoing off the surrounding peaks. "And your death will be swift."
Casteel's response was to place his hand on the Skellarae mare's neck, and whisper something urgently to her he didn't have a hope of hearing. But his distress was clear. He wanted the horses safe.
The Silver Guard raised their weapons, and River stirred in Nero's arms just as the first arrow flew toward Casteel's heart.
Chapter Nineteen
Time slowed as thearrow cleaved the night air, a single shaft aimed at Casteel’s bare chest. Nero’s warning cry stuttered and died. He felt Casteel’s realization and saw him turn in a desperate bid to outrun the arrow.
Then the Skellarae mare lunged.
Not with magic, but raw speed and instinct. She charged from Casteel’s flank and took the arrow full in her shoulder. Steel met bone with a sickening crack. She reared, mane whipping the air, and screamed—a high, ragged note that tore at Nero’s chest.
Casteel dove beside her, catching her head as she collapsed, both going to the floor. His hands sank into her coat; blood darker than rubies oozed through her coat.
The Silver Guard captain raised his sword, face twisted in fury. But the ground trembled as an ancient stallion thundered into the clearing, nostrils flaring in a roar that set every horse there on edge.
The soldiers’ mounts panicked. Eyes rolling white, they bolted in every direction—men tangled in reins, shields clattering to stone. Riders unable to stay on.
“Don’t hit the wolf!” the captain bellowed, but his orders were drowned under the pounding of hooves.
Nero seized the moment. Cradling River against his chest, he sprinted down the slope, weaving between straining horses and fallen men. He raced to Casteel’s side, lowered River, and ripped off his shirt, just as Casteel managed to ease the arrow from her shoulder..
“She’s hurt,” Casteel gasped as an acknowledgement, voice choked.
“She saved you,” Nero said, pressing the shirt onto the wound.
