Page 17 of Lord of the Lone Wolf (Bonded Hearts #3)
Jaega
M aseo’s growing nervousness reached Jaega long before they arrived at the barracks. His anxiety revealed deep-seated fears about acceptance, belonging, and the possibility of being found wanting by those whose approval mattered.
Still, the half-wolf shifter’s face remained controlled as he said, “Thank you for believing in me. I know you have every reason to distrust me, but I promise you won’t regret letting me fight in your ranks.”
Jaega’s dragon stirred with protective warmth at the vulnerability beneath Maseo’s formal words as they continued through the stone corridors of the castle. “It is clear your desire to fight is earnest.”
“My loyalty lies with King Kitsuki, Auslin, and your army, not my awful father. I’ll prove it in whatever way I can. No one wants Nasume to be dethroned more than I do.”
“I have no intention of holding your father’s sins against you when it is clear you are nothing like him. What I witnessed in that training hall today was exceptional skill paired with unwavering honor. That combination cannot be taught; it must come from within.”
Maseo’s steps faltered as he rubbed the back of his head, a gesture that spoke of discomfort with compliments. “Being different from him is one of the few things I am proud of in this life.”
The admission revealed more than Maseo likely intended. Jaega’s heart clenched at the implication that such a remarkable young man had so little in his life to take pride in. How many battles had he fought without recognition? How many victories had gone unacknowledged under Nasume’s cruel rule?
“You should take pride in far more than that,” Jaega encouraged.
“Your mastery of the battle-axe alone was extraordinary. I have trained warriors for centuries, and few possess the natural grace you displayed with such an unwieldy weapon. The way you compensated for its weight distribution and turned its limitations into advantages speaks to both exceptional training and innate talent.”
A flush crept up Maseo’s neck as he ducked his head. “I can’t take full credit. Valdrion was a thorough instructor.”
“Valdrion provided the foundation,” Jaega corrected.
“But what I saw today was your hard work and innovation. The spinning technique you used to create distance and the way you reversed your grip to use the handle as a staff were not textbook maneuvers. Those came from your own tactical mind and ability to think beyond conventional limitations.”
Maseo’s scent shifted, surprise mingling with a hint of cautious hope. “You really think so?”
The question was so hesitant that Jaega’s protective instincts flared.
Maseo had been starved of recognition and acknowledgment of his considerable abilities.
No wonder Kitsuki’s dragon had responded so powerfully to him.
Dragons admired strength, but they were equally drawn to those who needed their protection and guidance.
“I know so,” Jaega said with absolute conviction. “Your mother must have been a remarkable woman to have raised such a strong son despite your father.”
The half-shifter glanced up at Jaega, tears gathering in his green eyes. “She was. I miss her every day.”
“It is a shame she could not see you grow into such a fine lad. She would be proud to see you rejected Nasume’s influence and chose to fight for justice instead of tyranny.”
Maseo wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes, but Jaega’s enhanced senses caught both the salt scent and the tremor in his breathing.
“I like to think so.” The half-wolf shifter sniffled.
“I hope we can defeat him. I’m too scared to think about what would happen if he wins when he’s talking about commanding an army of dead souls. ”
The fear in Maseo’s voice was genuine and justified. Jaega had fought in the Necromancer War and seen firsthand the horrors that death magic could unleash upon the living. The thought of Nasume wielding such power was enough to chill even a dragon’s blood.
“It should be impossible since all the necromancers were killed during the war,” Jaega said, his voice carrying the weight of hard-won experience.
“But if the rumors that Ishibiya survived or has been revived are true, then we must kill him before he can recruit new necromancers to his cause. There is a reason this realm is a better place without their awful death magic. If I never saw another lichen marionette or necrowing, it would be too soon.”
“How do you kill something that is already dead?”
Jaega appreciated the practical nature of the question, which could mean the difference between victory and defeat.
“The kind thing is to sever the soul from the skeleton so it can return to the protection of the soulkeepers in the Beyond Realm. I will not allow the dead to be disrespected and decimated, especially when they were not given a choice about returning because of a necromancer’s manipulation. ”
Maseo’s expression shifted to one of genuine surprise, as if such consideration for enemy souls was foreign to him. “That is very honorable of you.”
The wonder in his voice told Jaega everything he needed to know about the military philosophy Maseo had grown up with under Nasume’s rule.
“Life is sacred, even in death,” Jaega explained, hoping to plant seeds of a different way of thinking.
“Our enemies are still the sons and daughters of parents who love them dearly, and many are parents themselves. They are fighting for what they feel is right, the same as our warriors do. Some are forced to fight for what they do not believe in because of the circumstances of their birth. Everyone deserves respect for their sacrifice, even if we believe they have chosen the wrong side. But there are, of course, exceptions.”
“Like Ishibiya and my father?” Maseo asked.
“Those two, along with the marauders who killed my beloved first mate and daughters,” Jaega said, allowing an edge of ice to enter his tone.
The old pain still lived in his chest as a constant reminder of what evil could steal from the innocent.
“They deserve no mercy when they show none to anyone.”
Maseo’s expression grew sad, his empathy genuine and touching. “I am so sorry about your mate and daughters. I can’t imagine how you survived that kind of loss.”
The sorrow emanating from him was real, free of the calculated sympathy Jaega encountered in court politics. Maseo’s compassion was as authentic as his combat skills, another mark in his favor as far as Jaega was concerned.
“My son, Tyrian, was the only reason I did not join them in the Beyond Realm back then,” Jaega admitted.
“Now, I have been blessed with another bondmate to love and protect. Fersen is so perfect that I can only conclude my dear Caprina chose him for me so I would no longer have to face the world alone.”
“That’s beautiful.” There was a note of wistfulness in Maseo’s voice, which spoke of loneliness and longing for the connection Jaega described. “I’m glad you found happiness again. It gives me hope.”
“Good. Life is too hard to survive without hope. You will need it to endure the fight that lies ahead.” Jaega paused in their walk, studying the half-wolf shifter’s profile.
“I want you to understand what you are walking into. Valzerna’s army is not like what you have known under your father’s command. ”
Maseo’s attention sharpened, his posture straightening with the focus of a soldier receiving crucial intelligence.
“Nasume builds his strength through exclusion, through his obsession with wolf pack purity,” Jaega continued.
“But Kitsuki and I believe that true strength comes from unity across all kinds. You have already met Lieutenant Norkon, who is a raven shifter. But our ranks include dragons, wolves, bears, countless other shifters, and even some humans. Each brings their own gifts, perspectives, and ways of solving problems that pure-blood thinking cannot achieve.”
Relief flooded Maseo’s scent so powerfully that Jaega almost smiled. It was no wonder he dreaded walking into a den of dragons ready to tear apart a lone wolf.
“You will find acceptance here based on your actions, not your heritage,” Jaega assured him. “Some may be curious about your background, others may test your resolve, but they will judge you by how you fight beside them, not by whose blood runs in your veins.”
“That is more than I expected,” Maseo admitted.
“I suspect your father taught you to expect disappointment rather than possibility. But here, you can afford to let hope grow. The soldiers you will serve alongside have earned their places through merit, not birthright. They will come to respect the same dedication in you once you prove yourself.”
They reached the entrance to the barracks. Uncertainty warred with cautious optimism in Maseo’s expression. The concept of a military force built on inclusion rather than exclusion seemed to overwhelm him.
“If I could give you a word of advice,” Jaega said. “While tempting, do not lie about who you are and where you come from. Honesty about your past will earn more respect than false bravado about your history.”
Maseo nodded. “And if they question my commitment?”
“Let your actions provide the answer. Fight beside them. Share their dangers. Prove through deed rather than words that you have chosen your side with full knowledge of what that choice means.”
The wisdom seemed to settle something in Maseo’s mind. His shoulders squared with renewed determination, and the scent of his anxiety faded. “I won’t disappoint you.”
“I do not doubt that.” Jaega clasped Maseo’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.
Maseo’s combination of warrior skill and gentle spirit was rare, precious, and exactly what both Kitsuki and Auslin needed to complete something that had been missing from their bond.
But such realizations would come in their own time. For now, it was enough that Maseo had found sanctuary, purpose, and the chance to build something better than what he had left behind.