Page 2 of The Lionheart’s Bond (Bonds of Dusk and Dawn #1)

JUDEL

T he rain drummed the rhythm of winter on the window, the wind whistling its song as it seeped through the gaps. The torches flickered. Only the roaring fire in the hearth and the oil lamps on the table remained impervious to the weather’s intrusion into the queen’s hall.

Judel wrapped his hands around the fresh brew steaming in front of him, the warmth of it permeating into his cold hands yet doing nothing to ease the tension on his shoulders. It was the same uneasy feeling that had them all on edge, the same sensation that accosted them when they met every night.

Judel glanced back, as if to make sure it was still there. The throne loomed ominously in the far dark corner, a constant reminder of what life should be.

A shiver ran through him anew. No matter how thick their furs and plumage, a day wandering the Ilish lands in the middle of winter made the princes of Ilystra desperate for the comfort of a good fire.

They sat quietly, waiting, each of them in different stages of recovery from their recent shift back into their human form, dealing with it the best they could. Seven years had passed, but it was still challenging.

And as their nights remained very much the same, their days hadn’t changed much either.

Although, lately he often found himself at the thicket west of the castle, where Fabina and he used to sneak out to be alone. Why he went there or what he expected to find, he wasn’t sure, but that’s where his steps led him, even as the beast had control of his body.

Everyday, after sixth bell, when people would be finishing their meals and getting ready to go back to the fields and herds, to the forges and workshops, his mind became his own again. And just as his awareness returned, he recognized his surroundings. The canopy of naked branches was immediately familiar, the harsh wind swaying the trees as if it, too, was angry.

Today had been no exception and he came to, sitting on a low branch, licking at his fur, the wind heavy with humidity, forewarning of the rain that was now sliding down the windows.

The mountain lion had let out an exasperated breath and readied himself to leave, his heart heavy and his mind working hard to close the doors to all the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. The shaky sound of her voice when she told him she liked him. The shine in her eyes when they kissed for the first time. The way she laughed at his attempts to amuse her. The way the sun shone in her hair the first time they had laid together, her cheeks blushed, her chest heaving. Every image ingrained into his mind, memories that made his soul ache and the curse too heavy to bear.

But today, he missed his chance to run away. The thicket had remained blissfully devoid of visitors all those days. It was too cold to venture this way, making it easier for him to leave unseen. But not this afternoon. A voice too familiar held him back.

‘Don’t!’ she said. His blood curdled in his veins and his muscles tensed, ready to pounce.

‘Come on, Fabina, you wanted us to be alone, didn’t you?’ a man replied.

‘But not here!’

‘Is it because of him?’ he asked. ‘Was this your special place?’ he mocked.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she smacked him on the arm.

They came into view, her in the fur-lined blue cloak he had gifted her, her hair braided, her cheeks red with cold, her hand so easily fitting in another man’s hand.

‘Didn’t you hear there is a beast roaming around here? They saw it yesterday and even the day before.’

‘So? I’ll protect you from any beasts,’ he said, a grin on his lips, as he pulled her against him.

Judel didn’t recognise the man. His clothes were too fine for a farmer or a stable hand, but not so fine as to indicate nobility. A merchant’s son, maybe. There were quite a few in town who would be reputable and successful enough to afford that quality of fabric. He was tall and lithe, like his brother Brin. Would she have stayed with Judel if he hadn’t been so bulky? If he had been finer and younger?

‘Do you still love him?’ he asked, the same mocking tone in his voice.

Judel had to tighten his jaws to stop the growl from forming at the back of his throat.

There was hesitation in her eyes as she gazed up at her companion. Could it be?

‘That’s not the point,’ she replied, ‘but the beast… What if it’s him? What if he’s stalking around here waiting for me to come?’

‘Well,’ the man said, looking around. At least he had the decency to appear nervous. Judel found it oddly satisfactory. Not smart enough to look up, though. ‘If it is him,’ he continued, ‘I’ll dispatch him promptly.’ He put his hand on the pommel of his sword, an act of bravado that would never lead to anything if the situation arose, because the man wouldn’t be fast enough, and even if he was, the consequences would be dire. There was a hunting ban in the queen’s lands for a reason.

But a sword wasn’t even necessary to wound him. Her smile was weapon enough. That she would respond so freely to his nonsense was a sharp cut to his soul. As she pushed herself onto her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, Judel closed his eyes. If only the beast would take him now. He feared the kiss they were now surely sharing would lead to more. While somewhere he mustered the energy to feel happy for the woman who he was once to marry, he didn’t think he could bear seeing them together any more than he already had.

Leaving would be the logical thing to do, but he didn’t want to scare her, nor did he want her to know, or even suspect, that he might have been there. The heartache was bad enough, adding embarrassment and her own pain to it would just be torture.

So he had coped as best he could, trying to ignore the whines and gasps, and the sound of ruffling fabric as what he feared seemed more and more plausible by the second.

Thankfully, the Divine Lords took mercy on him, and the sky cracked with distant thunder. Rain pelted down on them, cooling their urgent hands. Fabina’s gasps and breathlessness were replaced by a shriek, and they both ran out, laughing, making their way back to town, leaving Judel aching but relieved.

‘Are you well, brother?’ his younger brother’s voice pulled him out of his reverie. Brin looked at him from across the table, a hand pressed against his temple, strands of almost white hair sticking out through his fingers.

Judel didn’t answer, grunting instead. Of course he wasn’t.

‘Headache?’ he asked Brin, changing the subject instead. His brother nodded, a pained smile on his lips. Was there no end to the suffering this curse caused them? Brin’s headaches were only one of many concerns born from that harrowing night.

‘The queen,’ a guard announced from the entrance.

The doors opened, and Nahel entered, her red hair loose at her back, her hand on the pommel of her sword, dressed as if she was ready for battle and not, as it was their evening routine, to sit with her brothers and discuss official matters.

The ten of them stood and bowed to their sister. Behind her, the castle’s two remaining scribes followed. She took the empty seat at the head of the table.

‘Fuck, she seems pissed,’ Brin muttered as they sat down once more.

Judel smirked without humour. It was often the case, since she had ascended to the throne. Neisha shuffled next to him. As crown prince, it would have been his duty to fulfil, but it was difficult to rule a kingdom when you spent most waking time pulling fish out of the river and scratching your back against tree trunks. Neisha had accepted that fact gracefully. So gracefully, in fact, that Judel often wondered if his older brother wasn’t relieved he didn’t have to become king.

The first few days after their parents died had been full of chaos and confusion. After a week, and with no end or explanation in sight to what was happening to them, they had turned to more practical matters, and succession was the first priority on that list. Nahel had not been awake for the unavoidable conversations, as she remained under an induced sleep while the wounds to her face healed.

At the time, none of them were clear-headed enough to be even remotely rational about it. Nel was the only one who managed to make any sense, and they had turned to his cold intellect to lead them through that terrible time—Judel barely remembered any of it. Despite all their planning and strategizing, from their father’s first cousin, who was the next in line to the throne, to the queen’s fourth cousin twice removed, they all turned down the crown.

‘It’s cursed,’ was the story they muttered under their breath.

‘Lord Verett didn’t show up to the council meeting,’ Nahel said, answering the question nobody dared ask. They knew what had the queen in a bad mood now. ‘And Veston has notified us their fishing boats are having difficulties and can’t pay the tribute in full this time.’

‘How many times is that?’ Neisha asked.

‘It’s the third time,’ Nel replied, his arms crossed over his chest, looking over to the scribes for confirmation.

‘I believe His Highness, Prince Nel is correct, but I shall double check. Rane,’ he called to his aid. The aid’s attention was elsewhere, though. ‘Scribe Rane?’ he repeated in an urgent tone.

Flustered, the apprentice turned to his master, documents in hand, pushing locks of long blond hair behind his ear, his tanned skin barely hiding the blush of embarrassment on his cheeks.

‘Third time, indeed,’ he confirmed after checking past records. Scribe Rane’s sole job as apprentice was to hold the book of records. ‘It is worth noting that only Lord Joceus, Lord Byran and Lady Elowen have consistently paid their tributes in full and on time.’

Nahel scoffed under her breath.

‘In these situations, rulers of the past have reined in their vassals using several methods,’ Hina offered, as if reading from one of his scrolls.

‘Such as?’ Nahel asked, impatient.

‘A good beating,’ Ponar said from the end of the table. Judel rolled his eyes. Their youngest brothers possessed the confidence of those who have been spoiled and doted on all their lives. Ponar was the actual youngest and the ringleader of his three immediate older brothers.

Nahel pressed her fingers into the bridge of her nose.

‘Why don’t you all go to the kitchen and get dinner?’ Neisha said, before Nahel snapped at them.

‘But—’ Ponar tried. Nahel’s glare cut him off, and chairs scratched the floor as the three youngest left the table.

‘Naran,’ Nahel warned.

‘I’m twenty years old!’

But Nahel stared him down, forcing him to leave. Naran’s obedience came with an accompaniment of loud discontent and door slamming that made the windows rattle.

‘Ponar was correct, though. Force is the usual recourse.’ Hina, matter-of-factly.

‘We might as well set siege to Valecrest, in that case,’ Kan mumbled without addressing anyone in particular.

‘We don’t have the men to confront our own vassals, much less to attack one who now has the backing of a kingdom no one dares poke,’ Neisha said. ‘Most of the lords have recalled their men. Were we to face any of them in military fashion, we would be in serious danger of losing the little ground we have left.’

Hina didn’t answer, but he wasn’t expected to. His commentary was educational and not meant as a suggestion, even when he was right.

‘One of us could go,’ Judel offered. ‘If I showed up there, with some men, not many, as a royal visit instead of an army—’

‘No,’ Nahel cut him off. ‘Brin can go,’ she said, pointing at his younger brother. ‘He’ll hold his ground better.’

Judel felt the tension catch in his back. It wasn’t unusual for Nahel to dismiss him, but it didn’t hurt any less each time she did. Brin, on the other hand, scowled at her.

‘Brin is busy and can’t be flying across the kingdom every time her majesty feels the itch to look like something is being done,’ Brin said.

‘Brin—’ Nahel said, her tone dangerous.

‘Don’t.’ He got up, unwilling to listen any longer.

‘You have obligations to the kingdom,’ she said, her jaw tense, glaring at their brother. ‘You have—’

‘Sister, there are nine other of us that can carry that burden on their shoulders. Judel even volunteered.’ With that and a wave, he turned on his heels and started towards the door.

‘Where are you going?’ Nahel demanded, getting up.

‘Sister,’ Neisha’s soothing voice tried, reaching for her, but she swatted his hand away.

‘I know where the rest of this conversation is going,’ Brin said without turning. ‘The vassals don’t trust us and there is nothing we can do about it. What’s new?’ And with a last look over his shoulder, he left, the entire room watching the door as it swung shut for the third time.

Nahel blew angry air out of her nose and dropped back into her seat.

‘This wouldn’t have happened if Lord Emmet and Lord Calder hadn’t turned on us. Or Lord Byran had made a show of renewing his loyalty to the crown, like the Count of Aster asked him,’ she complained under her breath. Very much like the lack of trust on the crown, this also was nothing new, and although it had been five years since both Endalor and Valecrest had sworn loyalty to the Kaletian kingdom, the shock of such betrayal was very much alive in their hearts.

‘Lord Emmett might still be convinced,’ Nel said, leaning over the table. ‘I—’

Movement behind him distracted his younger brother, and they all turned to watch as Scribe Rane excused himself and bowed out of the room. Nel rolled his eyes before turning back to them.

‘I believe an envoy could convince him.’

‘You’re not going either,’ Nahel told him.

‘Am I not smart enough?’ Nel smirked, amused.

Nahel didn’t reply, her face set in anger and Judel winced at the implication.

‘Never mind,’ Nel continued. ‘He wouldn’t listen to me or any of us, for that matter. No, I was referring to someone more trustworthy.’

‘He means Lord Joceus,’ Neisha said, seeming to agree with the concept.

‘Look at that, there is a reason you’re the crown prince, after all.’ Nel smirked. ‘Lord Joceus would be the best choice. The only choice, realistically, since he’s the only one who will still take an order from the queen.’

‘Lord Joceus and Lord Emmett are distant cousins,’ Hina offered. ‘Based on the Royal Genealogy Records, Lord Joceus’s great aunt married the thirteenth Count of Valecrest, Lord Emmett’s grandfather.’

‘That’s interesting, brother.’ Nel wasn’t trying too hard to hide his lack of patience for Hina’s unrequested snippets of information.

‘I’m not sure Lord Emmett will be susceptible to such arguments, but I’ll take what I can get.’ Nahel was always more open-minded to Nel’s suggestions and Hina’s findings than anybody else's ideas.

The queen rubbed her eyes, tired.

There was a time when she avoided touching her own face entirely. Fear of feeling the scars that deformed it used to send her into a fit of panic. The pain lasted for years.

But while her discomfort had eased, Judel’s guilt had remained unchanged. Neisha and he were in the room with her when it happened. When the curse first took hold and forced them through the shift, they grew their first fangs and claws. They could never determine which one of them did it.

‘Send my summons to Lord Joceus. He needs to be in court as soon as possible. If we get Lord Emmett back, we might be able to stabilise our kingdom enough to rule it.’

The conversation turned to practical matters after that, concerning the yield of the surrounding farms and repairs needed to the barracks. They talked until late into the night, all through dinner and until some of them couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer. The young ones might complain for being left out, but he truly envied them because they would be sleeping already.

‘Are you coming to train?’ Nahel asked. The voices of the Royal Scribe and some of his brothers vanished outside the door.

‘Not tonight.’ Judel frowned. Her dismissal and the implication from Nel’s comments still stinging.

‘Judel—’

‘Not tonight, sister,’ he repeated, annoyed. He couldn’t be expected to be treated like the family moron and behave as if nothing had happened so soon after.

‘That’ll be Your Majesty to you,’ she snapped, stomping out of the room.

Judel grunted in annoyance, letting his head fall back.

‘Don’t pay attention to her,’ Neisha said, dropping his heavy hand on Judel’s shoulder. ‘She’s just overprotective.’

‘She thinks I’m stupid.’ Anger was heavy in his voice.

‘That’s not true.’ Neisha frowned with concern.

Judel sighed. Neisha would never take his side against their sister anyway. He never had.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I saw her today.’

‘Fabina?’

Judel nodded.

‘She was with a man.’

A pause.

‘I’m sorry.’

Judel shook his head slowly.

‘No, I don’t think....’ He let his head drop back and stared at the ceiling. ‘Someone who loved you so much one day can’t stop, just like that. It should mean something that I still love her, shouldn’t it?’

‘I guess—’

‘He asked her if she still loved me, and she couldn’t answer.’ He sighed. ‘Maybe our destiny is just on hold.’

Neisha didn’t answer, only squeezing his shoulder harder.

‘Maybe,’ he said, almost as a mumble. After a moment, he got up, the chair rubbing harshly against the floor. ‘Let’s go, brother. We shall get rid of these stupid thoughts by beating each other up in the training ring, what do you think?’

‘I told Nahel I wouldn’t go,’ he said, only a feeble excuse.

‘You’re allowed to change your mind. And you can give her a run for her money there too.’ His older brother grinned.

Judel smiled back, a new spark of motivation spreading through his limbs. Maybe that’s what he needed to take his mind off his problems, an infusion of new energy.