Page 73 of Lord of the Lone Wolf (Bonded Hearts #3)

Kitsuki

T he correspondence from Uncle Jaega lay spread across the mahogany surface of Kitsuki’s desk, each line a reminder of the complexities that accompanied victory.

They’d won the war by defeating Nasume, but the burden of leadership pressed heavier than ever upon his shoulders.

How could he reward courage without bankrupting a kingdom?

How could he honor sacrifice without creating new hardships for innocent people?

A knock at the study door interrupted his brooding thoughts.

“Enter,” he called, setting aside Jaega’s letter with a sigh.

The door opened to reveal Maseo. Even weeks after the battle, the evidence of Nasume’s brutality remained etched across Maseo’s features.

The eye patch covered the worst of the damage, but the careful way he moved and the slight tension in his shoulders spoke of pain that persisted despite all efforts to heal it.

“Maseo,” Kitsuki greeted him warmly. The formal distance he maintained with most visitors dissolved in the presence of the man who had become so precious to him.

“What an unexpected pleasure. I am afraid Auslin has traveled to Fate’s Gate Temple with Sephen to visit friends there, if you were looking for him. ”

Something flickered across Maseo’s expression, a moment of vulnerable hesitation. “Actually,” he began, then paused, seeming to gather his courage. “I was hoping to see you.”

The admission surprised Kitsuki. “Does something trouble you?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Maseo assured him, though his cheeks flushed with color. “This is going to sound weird, but I was worried about you.”

Kitsuki blinked, taken aback by the unexpected confession. “Worried about me? Whatever for?”

Maseo shifted, his good eye not quite meeting Kitsuki’s gaze. “I don’t know how to explain it. I had a strong urge to check on you, to make sure you were okay.” He straightened, seemingly embarrassed by his own words. “I’m sorry if that’s inappropriate. I can leave if you prefer?—”

Maseo may have been confused by his impulse, but Kitsuki understood that the trinity bond was asserting itself, drawing the half-wolf shifter to him through instincts the young man could not yet comprehend.

Kitsuki’s dragon purred with deep satisfaction at this evidence of their connection, at the way Maseo’s soul recognized what his mind didn’t understand.

“Please do not leave,” Kitsuki interrupted, moving around his desk to approach Maseo.

“Your instincts serve you well. I was indeed troubled by a correspondence.” He gestured toward the sitting area next to his study, where padded chairs surrounded a low table beside tall windows overlooking the palace gardens.

“Perhaps we might speak somewhere more comfortable? You should not stand for extended periods while you recover.”

Maseo followed him, settling into one of the cushioned chairs with a suppressed wince that tightened Kitsuki’s jaw with anger at Nasume.

The afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows cast a golden glow across Maseo’s features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the way his dark hair fell in front of his face.

“Your concern was not misplaced,” Kitsuki said as he sat near Maseo. “I have been wrestling with a challenging problem regarding our recent victory.”

“What kind of problem?” Maseo asked, his posture ramrod straight to avoid straining his injuries.

“Uncle Jaega has written requesting guidance on how we should reward our warriors for their success in the war. It should be a simple matter of distributing bonuses and recognition, but the financial realities make it far more complex than it appears.”

Maseo’s brow furrowed with interest. “How so?”

“My father, King Tatsuki, always solved this dilemma by raiding the defeated enemy’s treasury,” Kitsuki explained, his voice heavy with old frustrations.

“He would seize their gold, their jewels, whatever wealth remained after conquest, and distribute it among our warriors as payment for their courage. It was effective, if ethically questionable.”

“But you can’t do that with Kunushi,” Maseo realized. “Because Kisano is going to be their king.”

“Precisely.” Kitsuki’s respect for Maseo’s quick comprehension grew.

“Taking from Kunushi’s treasury would leave my brother governing a bankrupted kingdom, trying to earn the loyalty of subjects who already question whether they can trust a foreign ruler.

He would inherit nothing but debt and resentment. ”

Maseo nodded. “And using Valzerna’s money would mean raising taxes to make up for what you spent.”

“Which would punish our own people for a war they did not start,” Kitsuki confirmed. “The citizens of both kingdoms deserve better than to bear the financial burden of Nasume’s madness. It is not their fault that one man’s cruelty forced us into conflict.”

“You really care about both kingdoms,” Maseo said in awe. “Even after everything Kunushi put you through, you’re still thinking about what’s best for their people.”

“They are innocent in this,” Kitsuki replied. “A monarch’s duty is to protect all those under their care, not to seek vengeance against the blameless for the crimes of their leaders.”

“That’s what I mean,” Maseo said. “You’re not just a king; you’re a good man. Most rulers would have stripped Kunushi bare and called it justice.”

The praise sent warmth flooding through Kitsuki’s chest, his dragon preening at their mate’s obvious admiration.

“My strong moral compass will not be much consolation to the warriors who put their lives on the line for our victory. They deserve recognition for their sacrifice, yet I cannot provide it without causing harm elsewhere.”

Maseo hesitated, opening his mouth as if to speak before closing it again, uncertainty written across his features.

“Please speak freely,” Kitsuki encouraged. “You may share whatever thoughts you have on this matter.”

Another moment passed before Maseo found his voice. “Why don’t you give the warriors the one thing they want more than money?”

Kitsuki tilted his head with interest. “Titles and lands? Many of them already possess both through previous service.”

“No, give them leave to visit their families for an extended period.”

The suggestion was so simple and yet so brilliant that Kitsuki could only stare at Maseo in amazement. “Extended leave,” he repeated, turning the concept over in his mind.

“Think about it,” Maseo continued, warming to his subject as he saw Kitsuki’s interest. “Not only does it cost you nothing, but it also saves you money because you’re not feeding your entire army.

And the warriors would be thrilled to spend time with their mates, children, and families they fight so hard to protect.

That’s worth more than gold to most soldiers. ”

Kitsuki leaned back in his chair, his mind racing through the implications. “The logistics require careful planning. We cannot afford to show weakness by spreading ourselves too thin immediately after a victory.”

“Agreed. But you don’t have to let the whole army go at once,” Maseo explained.

“You could do it in rounds, starting with those whose families live farthest away and ending with those closest to their loved ones. By organizing it by distance instead of rank, you can avoid lower-ranking warriors feeling undervalued.”

The more Kitsuki considered the proposal, the more perfect it became. There would be no financial burden on either kingdom, no resentment from citizens forced to pay higher taxes, and a reward that would mean more to most warriors than any amount of coin. “What made you think of such a solution?”

A soft smile crossed Maseo’s features. “Because that’s what they all talk about when they think no one important is listening.

Sure, some long for gold or glory. But most of them dream about going home, holding their children, and sitting at their own table with their families.

They’d prefer a month with their loved ones over a year’s wages.

If you gave them paid leave, it would feel like a bonus, since they’d be rewarded for spending time at home. ”

“Your insight is remarkable,” Kitsuki said, unable to hide his admiration. “That is indeed an ideal solution to what seemed an impossible problem.”

Maseo’s cheeks flushed at the praise, his good eye brightening in a way that made Kitsuki’s dragon rumble with satisfaction. “I’m glad you like it.”

So precious , Kitsuki’s dragon whispered, enchanted by how their mate absorbed every kind word like a flower turning toward sunlight. He has lived too long without recognition of his worth.

“Perhaps I should make you my advisor on behalf of the army,” Kitsuki suggested. “Your understanding of what motivates our warriors far exceeds my own.”

“I’m sure you have people much better qualified than me,” Maseo protested, his flush deepening. “I’m just a soldier, not a general or strategist.”

“You have proven yourself to be a formidable warrior,” Kitsuki insisted with absolute conviction. “Your courage in facing Nasume and your skill in battle speak to far more than mere soldiering.”

The compliment seemed to fluster Maseo even more. “I don’t know how good a warrior I am when my father still took me down.”

“Not before you defeated him,” Kitsuki reminded him. “Anyone else would have died. Your survival alone is a testament to your extraordinary abilities.”

Maseo touched the edge of his eye patch, a gesture that sent fresh waves of protective fury through Kitsuki’s dragon. He struggled to maintain his composed demeanor.

“Has your pain grown worse?” Kitsuki asked, concern sharpening his voice.

“It’s so constant that I sometimes forget about it unless I move wrong,” Maseo admitted with a rueful smile. “Like background noise you stop hearing until something makes it louder.”

The casual way Maseo spoke of his suffering only made it more heartbreaking.

Kitsuki’s hands clenched in his lap as he fought the urge to reach out and offer the physical comfort he could not freely give yet.

“I regret I cannot do more to ease your discomfort. Auslin is beside himself that Liros has not returned from his voyage to provide the help needed for your healing.”

“You’ve done more than enough by giving me a comfortable place to stay,” Maseo said with genuine gratitude. “And your library is magnificent beyond compare. I could happily lose myself in there for days. Kisano may end up regretting his kind invitation for me to spend time there.”

“I am pleased you are enjoying it,” Kitsuki replied, though his focus remained fixed on the careful way Maseo held himself, the subtle signs of ongoing pain that no amount of gratitude could mask.

“It’s been nice getting to know everyone, too,” Maseo continued. “Kisano, Sephen, and Fersen have done so much to make me feel welcome here. It’s strange how I went from having no friends to having so many here in Tiora.”

The wistful note in Maseo’s tone revealed years of isolation, reflecting a young man who had grown up surrounded by people who saw him only as a weapon or a reminder of old grievances.

“I am glad you have found a home here,” Kitsuki said.

“I’ll never stop being grateful for that and for everything you and Auslin have done for me,” Maseo replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Both Kitsuki and his dragon basked in the warmth of Maseo’s gratitude, knowing they had provided safety and acceptance to someone who had known precious little of either.

“It is my pleasure to take care of you,” Kitsuki said, the words carrying more weight than he dared to acknowledge. “Now and always.”

The promise hung in the air between them, charged with meanings neither could articulate. Maseo’s good eye widened as if he had detected something surprising in Kitsuki’s tone.

“I’ll never stop being amazed by that,” Maseo said. “You’ve given me so much when others would have turned me away either because of my past or who my father was.”

The vulnerability and wonder born from a lifetime of expecting rejection rather than acceptance made Kitsuki’s chest tighten with fierce protectiveness.

“It bears repeating that neither Auslin nor I hold your past with Kio or Nasume against you. It is time you freed yourself from the burden of that history and allowed yourself to live the life you choose among people who care for you.”

Maseo blushed again as he bowed his head. “I’ll do my best.”

“That is all I can ask,” Kitsuki replied, though his dragon urged him to say more, to speak the words that burned in his throat like swallowed fire.

But Kitsuki could not burden Maseo with confessions while he was still healing and finding his place in a world that had offered him kindness after a lifetime of abuse. The trinity bond would reveal itself when Maseo was strong enough to understand its meaning and choose whether to accept his fate.

For now, it was enough to provide comfort, companionship, and the gradual building of trust and affection that would someday bloom into something deeper.

“Would you care to join me for lunch?” Kitsuki asked, compromising with his dragon’s demands by inviting Maseo to stay close a little longer. “I would appreciate the company.”

Maseo’s face lit up with genuine pleasure. “I’d like that very much.”

As they rose from their chairs, Kitsuki noticed Maseo’s careful movements, the way he favored his injured side without complaint.

The sight renewed his determination to ensure that Maseo’s remaining recovery would be filled with warmth, acceptance, and the gradual understanding that he had found a place where he belonged.

Soon , his dragon whispered with satisfaction as they made their way toward the dining hall. Soon, he will understand that he is ours, as we are his.

For now, Kitsuki would content himself with the quiet joy of Maseo’s company and the growing bond that drew them together. The future would bring its own revelations and challenges.

But today, it was enough to share a meal with the man who had unknowingly claimed his heart, to bask in the warmth of a friendship that held the promise of something precious.