Chapter Twenty
First light cracked throughthe pine branches overhead. Casteel woke first, blinking at the extra weight on his side. River had shifted in his sleep, one little arm thrown over Casteel’s chest, his face calm and innocent. Casteel's heart squeezed. He'd dreamed of this. At some point in his dream of a future it had included a child or children. Except he wasn't sure he could offer this little one safety at the moment. He sensed his mate and looked up. Across the small clearing, Nero sat bolt-upright, silver-flecked eyes scanning the tree line like a predator.
“You didn’t get any sleep?” Casteel whispered.
“My wolf hardly needs it,” Nero said softly, careful not to wake the boy. “I had to keep watch.”
He didn’t think it was a criticism, more a practical declaration of how things were. Nero had been insanely protective of him even before the wolf. He’d wrestled with doubts, even before he’d given the wolf-soul to Nero. But seeing how alive Nero looked with it—how fierce—he was even more convinced it should have always belonged to Nero. Casteel leaned over andwatched River’s eyes flutter open, confusion flickering across his face before memory clicked in. The boy tensed up, scanning their little camp like someone far older than he looked.
“Hey there,” Casteel said with a gentle grin. “You catch any sleep?”
River gave a small nod, his eyes hopping between Casteel and Nero, who was already rummaging through their meager supplies for breakfast. “I’m… hungry,” he murmured, like admitting it might break something.
"Me too,” Casteel admitted, brushing a hand through his hair as he sat up. “Let’s see what we can scrounge, yeah?”
He held out his hand, but really he held his breath. After a beat, River slipped his fingers into Casteel’s and together they wandered to the edge of camp, where a clutch of wild berries peeked out from between the rocks. Casteel guided River behind some scrub to relieve himself then the small creek to scrub his hands and face. Eagerly they went back to examine the berries.
“My ma taught me which ones are safe,” Casteel said, gently plucking the plump blue berries. “These blue ones are sweet. The red ones… not so much.”
River watched closely, then knelt to help, his little fingers surprisingly steady. “My mama knew all the plants, too,” he whispered.
“She sounds smart,” Casteel said, his chest tightening. “Mine worked in the kitchens back home—she made magic with bread and pies.”
“Mama made bread, too,” River said, pausing to pick a berry. “With seeds on top.” Casteel smiled and held up a handful. “My favorite. Did she let you help?”
River nodded, eyes drifting off as he remembered. “I got to sprinkle the seeds.”
They gathered berries in silence. When River’s cold fingers brushed his, Casteel took the boy’s hand and warmed it with his own.
“Your hands are big,” River said, peering at them. “Like my pa’s.”
Casteel’s heart pinched. “I’ve worked with horses most of my life. Builds strong hands.”
“The black sparkly horses,” River breathed, eyes wide. “I thought they were a dream.”
“No dream,” Casteel said softly. “They’re called Skellarae. I’ve been hearing stories of them since I was your age.”
“They were so pretty,” River said, then tugged on Casteel’s sleeve. “Can we go back to see them?”
Casteel squeezed his hand. “Maybe one day. They have to stay hidden right now, for their own good.”
River’s face fell, and Casteel felt that familiar ache of another disappointment. On impulse, he dug in his pocket and pulled out a sliver of silver-streaked bark he’d tucked away from the Skellarae valley.
“Here,” he said, pressing it into River’s palm. “So you won’t forget them.” The boy stared at the bark, then closed his small fingers around it. “I’ll keep it always.”
Casteel ruffled his hair. “And whenever you look at it, remember there’s still magic in the world—even when everything seems dark.” Maybe that was a lesson he had to learn as well.
River leaned into his side and Casteel dropped an arm around the boy’s shoulders.
“We should head back to Nero,” Casteel said after a moment. “He’s probably wondering where we wandered off to.” But he only said that for River's benefit. He had no doubt Nero knew exactly where they were.
As they turned for camp, River slipped his hand into Casteel’s without a word. Casteel slowed his steps, savoring the warmth that blossomed in his chest—something that felt a lot like hope.
“How far to Morven’s place?” Casteel asked as Nero looked up.
Nero tilted his head, nostrils flaring as if he could sniff the answer. “Maybe two bells on foot. That stallion got us closer than I thought before they vanished.”
“You think he knew where we were headed?” Casteel stretched, still stiff from the hard ground.
