Two guards flanked Nero like they were escorting royalty. "Come, my lord."
“I’m not your lord,” he hissed.
The man bowed his head. “Not yet.” The crowd parted for him like he was something holy. Nero’s eyes locked on the harbor, just visible over the rooftops. The Thief’s Heart was already unfurling its sails. He took one step forward. Then another. The wolf walked ahead.
“I was going to kill him,” Nero whispered to himself, too quiet to be heard.
But someone had heard him.
Because as the palace gates closed behind them, and the crowd chanted their names in blissful, ignorant unison, the Silver Wolf looked back—
And stared into Nero's eyes as if he carried the sadness of the world.
Chapter Four
Finally, they arrived atan ornate door carved with wolves and crowned figures. The priests had somehow outpaced them and stood waiting, incense burning in golden censers.
"The sacred chamber has been made ready," the head priest announced. "I will send servants in to prepare you. The bonding must be completed by sunrise."
Nero's hackles rose. "What exactly does that mean?" he demanded, finding his voice at last.
The priest's smile fell and was replaced with a calculated look. "The ancient texts speak of a joining of souls. You will emerge as one spirit in two bodies, bound for eternity."
"And if I refuse?" Nero challenged, though he already suspected the answer.
The priest's expression didn't change, but his eyes hardened. "The gods have chosen. To refuse their will would bring calamity upon our already suffering land." Nero stood before the massive doors, the wolf at his side. For one wild moment, he consideredrunning—but to what end? The entire city had witnessed the transformation. There would be nowhere to hide.
Unless he could get to the ship.
The wolf nudged his leg and Nero moved. The priests stepped back, bowing deeply as the ornate doors swung open to reveal a chamber awash in golden light. Nero hesitated at the threshold, but the wolf padded forward, leaving him little choice but to follow. The moment they crossed into the room, the heavy doors closed behind them with an ominous thud.
Nero's eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. The chamber was circular, its walls adorned with ancient tapestries depicting silver wolves and crowned figures. In the center stood a raised dais covered in furs and silks, surrounded by glowing braziers that filled the air with sweet-smelling smoke. To the left lay a huge daybed adorned with silken covers, pillows, and rich furs.
"This is madness," Nero muttered, running a hand through his hair.
The wolf watched him with those unsettling blue eyes, head tilted slightly as if considering him. Then, without warning, the magnificent creature began to change. The transformation was swift—silver fur receding into smooth dark skin, powerful limbs elongating into human form. Within moments, the young man knelt on the stone floor, almost tangled in the silk of the dais, his breathing labored, but remarkably, he was still dressed. Nero blinked. He’d never seen one of those bastard animals do that. Remain clothed.
But as he stepped forward, the man’s hand shot out and he lunged upward with startling speed. Moonlight glinted off metal—a small blade concealed somewhere under the dais—and before Nero could react, he pressed the edge against his own throat.
"Don't move," Casteel hissed, his voice hoarse as if rarely used, backing up against the wall. His eyes, still that impossible blue, now blazing with desperation.
Nero froze. "What—"
"I won't be their puppet," Casteel snarled, pressing the blade harder. A warm trickle of blood slid down the boy's neck. "And I won't let you force me into this..."
Despite the real risk Casteel was about to take his own life, Nero felt a surge of confusion. "Force you? I came here to kill you." He didn't know how Casteel knew, but he did.
"Then why didn't you?" Casteel demanded, his hand trembling slightly. "You had your chance. I saw you—I knew what you intended."
"I tried," Nero admitted, watching the young man carefully. "But then... whatever this is happened."
Casteel's eyes narrowed. "You're lying. You're part of their plan. They planted you in that crowd—"
Nero's patience snapped. Years of combat experience took over, and in one fluid movement, he knocked Casteel's wrist aside, and twisted the blade from his grasp. Now Casteel was pinned against the wall, Nero's forearm across his chest and the dagger held carefully away.
"Listen to me, you royal fool," Nero growled. "I don't want this any more than you do. I was supposed to be on a ship sailing for Cadmeera before the eighth bell, leaving this godforsaken country behind forever. But now I'm trapped in this... this absurdity with you."
Casteel's chest heaved beneath Nero's forearm, his eyes wild with a mix of fear and defiance. For several heartbeats, they remained locked in that position, each taking the measure of the other.
