Page 23 of The Lionheart’s Bond (Bonds of Dusk and Dawn #1)

ISIDORE

H ands ran up and down his arms, warm, firm. He remembered those hands before he was even fully awake, where they had been, how they had made him feel. If those same hands were not touching him now, he might have thought it had all been a sweet dream, but when he opened his eyes, the hands were still there.

What was lacking was light. The candle had long extinguished itself, and only a faint line of orange flickering light slipped under the door. With no sign of what time it was, he felt disoriented and confused. How long had they been sleeping? Not long, seeing as Judel felt very human next to him, Isidore’s long fingers wrapped around his forearm.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

‘I’m not sure,’ Judel replied. ‘It’s confusing not knowing what time it is. You can’t even hear the bells down here.’

‘You would have shifted if it was morning,’ Isidore said, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

‘I thought I felt the shift coming earlier, but it passed, and I fell asleep again.’

‘And now? Anything different?’

‘No. It feels like we’ve been sleeping for a long time, though,’ the prince said, pulling Isidore tight against him. Isidore turned, and nuzzled into the prince’s neck, inhaling the scent of his skin, the wild, the sweat, the flesh under it all.

‘Maybe we slept through the day and it’s nighttime again,’ he mumbled into the hollow of his neck. Judel stiffened against him, his fingers twitching into his back. Isidore smiled to himself.

‘But I would have transformed, wouldn’t I?’ the prince replied, his voice lowering.

The tension in his body changed, and he pushed Isidore away harshly, his tone suddenly thick with concern.

‘Are you hurt?’ His hands ran all over Isidore’s body, searching for something.

His back hurt so bad right now. Sleeping on the hard floor had done nothing to alleviate the effects of Judel pounding into him. He’d take that sort of pain any day, though. He smiled to himself.

‘Not in any way you could blame a lion for, no.’ He grinned.

Judel paused. He relaxed, then, and pulled Isidore back into his arms, kissing the top of his head.

‘We’ll know when they come, I guess.’ Judel pushed himself off the floor with a sigh.

Feeling cold, Isidore sat up despite himself and searched for his clothes. Neither the dark nor the wreck in his room were motivation enough for him to leave. He would gladly stay here for a few more days if it meant losing himself in the prince’s arms.

Somewhere in the dark, Judel was getting dressed too. His clothes on, Isidore felt his way around the floor, searching. He had left a water skin by the door. He was parched.

Steps rubbed against the floor with a gritty noise somewhere by the other end of the room.

‘Stop pacing,’ he said. ‘Here, have some water.’

‘But what if I transform? What if—’ Judel failed twice to meet Isidore’s hand before finally taking the water from him. Loud swallowing followed.

‘Shhhhh!’

Judel froze. A hand wrapped around his wrist and pull him down. Isidore dragged him to the door.

‘Someone is coming,’ he whispered near his ear. ‘Hold the door closed.’

Loud voices echoed outside, the sound of steps approaching.

‘Fuck, I almost forgot to come clean this up,’ a man said.

‘If you hadn’t been drinking till midnight… the Duke is going to be pissed if it starts stinking up the house,’ replied another voice.

‘Maybe we should wait till tomorrow night.’

The voices stopped getting closer and Judel and Isidore held their breath.

‘No way. We dumped him in there with that beast last night. After a whole day in there, more than half of the boy should be gone.’

‘What a shame,’ the first man spoke again. ‘He knew how to use that mouth,’ he laughed.

Judel’s body became so tight with tension next to him, Isidore feared he would burst through his own skin, but the prince didn’t move. His stillness was more terrifying than if he had thrown himself against the door, Isidore thought.

Ignoring his own embarrassment, he tried to distract the prince by focusing on something else.

‘Midnight? Last night? We must have slept through the transformation after all,’ he whispered into Judel’s ear.

Judel relaxed, this point more important than whatever shit the men outside may say about him.

‘Come on,’ the other voice said.

The steps shuffled closer. Both Isidore and Judel braced against the door, holding it in place with all their might, as the man slid the key in the lock. The mechanism turned. Isidore and Judel held tight against the push.

‘Pit demons, it’s not moving,’ one of the men said.

‘His body might be stuck behind it. Let me try.’

It would have been impossible for Isidore to hold that door if it wasn’t because of Judel. Torell’s men gave it their all, but Judel held his ground and though there was an inch of give, they didn’t gain any more terrain than that. Their pants came loud through the narrow opening.

‘Let’s go get Aran and the others. We can move this.’

Feet dragged against the floor, before they stopped.

‘No need to lock the door,’ one of them said, laughing.

‘Aye, sure. You tell Torell that wild lion is running free in the castle.’

‘Fine, lock it then, you wuss.’

The key turned and they walked away, allowing Isidore to breathe again.

‘We should have let them in and taken them this time,’ Isidore said. ‘Now they’ll come with more people.’

‘We weren’t prepared and we’re at a disadvantage in this small space. Don’t despair, we won’t need to take them at all.’

‘What?’

‘Find me that blanket,’ Judel said.

Judel fumbled for something in the dark while Isidore reached for the cover.

‘Here.’ Judel took it from him. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Hold on,’ Judel replied.

Silence first, followed by a soft clickety-clack, a dull thump.

‘They left the key in the lock,’ Judel said, energetic, as a dragging sound caught his attention. ‘Got it!’

‘How?’ Isidore couldn’t keep the amazement from his voice.

‘Magic!’

‘Really?’ Ilystra had no practitioners, though.

‘No.’ The prince chuckled again. ‘It’s a trick Nel taught me. When we were little, our mother would lock us in our rooms when we were mischievous. Nel found himself locked up more often than the rest of us. At six years old, he had found a way to get the key and free himself. By nine, and after further punishment for escaping his original penalty, he could make it look like he had never left.’

‘How?’ Isidore asked, incredulous.

‘He never shared that one,’ Judel chuckled.

‘That’s just impossible.’

‘You can ask him; I’m sure he’ll show you, since he likes you so much,’ Judel grumbled.

‘He’s very friendly,’ Isidore said. Nel had been extremely kind to him. Despite everything, he had gone out of his way to keep him company. If it wasn’t for him, Isidore would have found it almost impossible to cope.

‘He’s experienced at being friendly.’

‘Are you jealous?’ Isidore said, unable to keep the smile from his lips.

Judel only grunted in response and Isidore chuckled.

‘Ready, or do you want to keep laughing at me some more?’ Judel asked, his old temper returning.

Isidore settled, reaching for Judel, somewhere to his left.

‘I wasn’t laughing at you.’

Judel leaned into his touch, bringing his hand up to cover Isidore’s.

‘I know, sorry.’ Judel kissed his palm, warmth rushing through Isidore’s body.

‘Let’s go,’ Isidore said, suddenly desperate to be anywhere else but here. He wanted this mission to be over, and he wanted to be as far away from Stonehollow as possible. He could begin to forget, then, and embrace the new start the prince offered him.

His determination didn’t turn into nerves of steel though, and his stomach knotted painfully, as Judel slipped the key into the hole and unlocked the door. The hinges cried a long lament as metal ground against metal, but nothing stirred.

Outside, Isidore froze. Judel hadn’t shared his plans past this point, but steps were approaching from the stairs. Isidore’s body seemed to move of its own volition, taking a step back inside, but Judel pulled him back out and towards the end of the corridor, hiding in the next open cell.

‘Wait!’

‘Isidore,’ Judel called back.

They couldn’t leave the key behind. Isidore pulled the key free in one clean sweep and rushed back to Judel.

‘What—’

Isidore showed him and the prince nodded.

The noise grew louder as four distinct voices, recounted some episode down at the brothel.

‘Oy!’ the first voice yelled, running heavily towards the door.

Isidore and Judel flattened themselves against the wall, holding their breaths.

‘What the…’ The voice sounded muffled. Judel popped his head out only for a second, before mercilessly pulling Isidore out of the cell. In swift, confident movements, Judel reached for the door to his room, the men inside. The plan began to make sense.

‘Key!’ Judel urged him.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ a guard asked, coming around the corner. Fuck, they should have waited longer. With the guards in his room suddenly realizing their situation, Isidore threw the key at Judel and slammed with all his weight and force against the man coming towards them.

The guard had years of accumulated roast boar and beer on his bones and didn’t even feel the impact, but Isidore didn’t need to win a fight, he just needed time for Judel to lock the door. The guard, of course, knew that, and swatted him to the side as if he was nothing more than an irritating bug. Isidore was used to being shoved around, but he found it easier to stay on his feet now, able to recover his balance before hitting the ground.

Undeterred, Isidore jumped on his back and wrapped his arms around the thick neck, squeezing tight. His attack had almost no effect, other than the extra weight, but it didn’t matter, the sound of the latch sliding into the groove confirmed Judel was done.

But before Judel could reach them, something pounded on his face. Something equal parts flabby and hard, his cheekbone exploding in pain. The force of the impact sent him against the wall, where he hit his shoulder, a yelp bursting out of his lips.

‘You little shit.’

The guard spat on him, and he loomed over, forcing Isidore to back as he braced himself for the next impact.

It never came. Judel’s large forearm wrapped around the man’s neck and leveraged pressure with both arms. The man clawed at the bare extremities, muscles and tendons protruding with the strain. His face turned red as he grunted, eyes turning into their sockets, until his body lost tension and went limp.

Judel let go, his own face red and his jaw tense, panting with the effort.

‘Is he dead?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Judel said, a bit short of breath. The prince leant over his opponent and pulled his helmet free, his tabard too, and unhooked a key from his belt. He layered the clothes on top of his shirt, adding a pair of boots to it all. They had been lucky Lord Torell had not asked too many questions when Isidore asked for clean clothes. Being nice was probably part of the duke’s plan to lure Isidore into a false sense of security, and better set him up for his demise. The joke was on him, now.

The banging on the locked door continued, voices screaming and cussing them out.

‘Shut up!’ Judel hissed, banging the door with his fist.

But that only fuelled their anger, and they redoubled their ruckus.

‘If I were you,’ Isidore said, sticking to the steel on the outside of the door, ‘I would keep quiet. The lion is still asleep in there. You don’t want to wake it up.’

‘What—’ one of them started saying loudly, but his voice became suddenly muffled and not another sound came.

Judel grinned at him. Isidore smirked back, a finger pressed to his lips.

‘What’s this one for?’ Judel lifted the key he had found on the man’s belt. The metal was too rusty to reflect any of the torches’ light, but he could still tell. All the guards down here had one.

‘It opens the guard’s post.’

‘That’s where the rest of the keys should be,’ Judel said, determined.

‘And some weapons.’ Isidore nodded. ‘Should we lock him up?’ The man’s body was immobile on the floor, but his chest was still moving.

‘He was already drunk. It’ll be morning before he wakes; we’ll be long gone by then.’

It sounded like Judel was going to say something else, but he ended the sentence there. The missing words were no mystery. Any variation of ‘I hope’ would fit.

They navigated the corridors, Isidore finding them now so unfamiliar. Those stone walls had never held any comfort for him in the past, but now they felt entirely foreign. Even the person he had been then felt like a stranger now. As if he had been contained inside a shell that he had finally shed. These walls held no power over him any longer. Even if the future was still uncertain, even if there was no guarantee he would be able to make it out of there alive, he felt free for the first time in a decade.

The guard’s post was a gated alcove to the left, by the stairs leading to the fortress proper. A large metallic ring hung from a nail in the wall, heavy with keys; exactly what they were looking for. The loaf of bread on the table and the water in the jug were just a bonus and although they were unlikely to be fresh, the two of them drank and ate all the same, starving as they were after more than a day without food. At least they had spared themselves the torture of hunger by sleeping through it all.

‘Let’s find our people,’ Judel said.

Isidore nodded, his stomach twisting harder than ever before. He was afraid. They might not find the Ilish prisoners. The people they had transported might not be who Judel was looking for. He had no way to know. If it turned out to be the latter, he would have dragged four of the Ilish princes into danger for nothing.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Judel said, looking down into his eyes. ‘Even if… You did your best, Isidore. I know that, and the queen knows that.’

A knot of unexplainable emotion caught in his throat, but he swallowed it and nodded. If they had managed to trust him, he would not let them down.

Isidore led the way, corridor after corridor, as they whispered Lord Joceus’s name, his heart racing in his chest, until a voice replied, and he stopped breathing entirely.

‘Who goes there?’

The cell was cramped, with five people inside—the count and his entourage probably—and only two benches. Like Isidore’s bedroom, it had no windows, but the door had an opening with bars instead of a solid panel, allowing some light in.

The man pressing his face to the bars was mature, his fair hair disguising his age, while the wrinkles around his eyes didn’t. His gaze exuded strength and kindness. His blue eyes opened wide as Judel removed his helmet.

‘Your Royal Highness, how?’

Isidore let out the air he had been holding. It had not all been in vain.

‘Never mind that. Find the right key.’ Judel slipped the bundle through the opening. ‘But don’t open it until we come back. If any other guard comes, stay as far away from the gate as you can, or stick to the walls behind the door. We’ll be back for you, Lord Joceus.’

The night he escaped the duke’s camp had been too confusing and he couldn’t tell, now, if this was the same man asking for help that night, but guilt gnawed at him all the same. So many prisoners, through the years, and never did it occur to him to try and free any of them. To help anybody. Not even the animals. How many opportunities to free all those poor beasts had he missed, and it had never even gone through his mind. Fear and self-pity had shackled him and turned him into a coward.

‘Isidore,’ Judel called, snapping him out of his guilt trip, ‘let’s go!’

‘Where?’ Weren’t they leaving? ‘Are they not coming with us?’

‘Do you think they’ll let us walk out of here with their prisoners and through the front door?’

‘We can wait till morning. The wagons will come from the market. We can take one and—’

‘Five people are difficult to hide. And it’ll be morning, remember? I won’t be able to help any of you then.’

For a moment, Isidore had forgotten about the curse.

‘I have a plan,’ Judel said, taking his hand, ‘don’t worry. Just pretend you’re my prisoner and take me to Lord Torell’s chambers.’

The prince dragged him up the stairs, holding his upper arm with one big hand, as he wore the helmet lower over his face.

They stepped out into the inside ward.

‘Can’t believe you survived, boy,’ Guard Leric said, stopping to taunt him at the top of the stairs. ‘Want to come see me later, for the good old times? I might get you some meat if you’re really good.’

Judel’s fingers tightened around Isidore’s arms, but he remained still.

‘Come help me bring him to Lord Torell,’ Judel said.

‘What do you need help for?’ Leric grunted.

Isidore didn’t know what was going on, but he would help nonetheless, so he tried to free himself, pulled out of Judel’s grip and ran away. It was Leric who caught him and pulled him back, a hand ready to slap him across the face but Judel grabbed him before Leric had a chance to do anything.

‘Fine,’ Leric said, and held his other arm, guiding them past the hall. They went up more stairs in silence, around a curve, and into a narrow corridor, tapestries of hunting scenes hanging from every wall.

Judel stopped.

‘What—’ Leric began.

Judel shut him up with an elbow to the face, slammed him against a wall and punched him once.

‘You piece of shit, you don’t deserve to breathe the same he does,’ the prince grunted into the other man’s face.

Leric opened his mouth, to scream for help most likely, but Judel wasn’t going to let that happen. He punched him again, and again, until the man was unconscious, his face bloody and already swelling. Leric dropped to the floor and Judel pulled him behind one of the tapestries, wiping the blood from his hands on the fabric, red staining the blue skirt of an embroidered court lady.

‘Ready?’ the prince asked, adjusting his clothes, and pulling his helmet straight.

Isidore nodded, unsure whether he had found all of this scary or deeply satisfying and slightly arousing.

The doors to Torell’s chambers loomed ahead, large, ornate wood carved with animals and oak leaves. Before Isidore could even swallow or shake in fear, Judel banged at the door.

No answer came at first, so he did it again.

‘Go away!’ Torell’s voice sent a shiver through Isidore’s entire body, even through the closed door.

But Judel kept knocking, the hinges rattling harder with each assault.

‘What?’ Lord Torell’s face appeared, contorted into a grimace of displeasure that made Isidore shrink in fear. Only Judel’s fingers digging into his arm felt reassuring enough for him to stay in place when the duke’s eyes fell on him. ‘You!’

‘I found him lurking out here, my lord,’ Judel said, his eyes low, trying to hide his face.

Not that Lord Torell would recognize him. Most of his own guards were just blurry shadows in his vision, never having any will to know any of them.

The duke’s hideously evil smile spread over his lips, the one reserved for those moments that most tickled his twisted sense of amusement. Torell pushed the door open so hard, it slammed against the wall behind it. A wolf Isidore had never seen before lifted its head to them, the chain hanging from its collar grating against the ground.

The shuffle of fabric pulled his attention to the bed. A girl cowered under the blankets, pulling them to her chin. A flush of anger climbed through Isidore’s chest and neck. She looked terrified. Judel must have shared his feelings, if the way his hand twitched was anything to go by.

Lord Torell returned to her, half lying against the rich headboard. His robe slid open, revealing him in all his naked glory, as he lifted a leg to the bed, the other one firmly on the ground. Nausea turned Isidore’s stomach.

‘You can let go of him,’ the duke ordered lazily.

Judel’s hand lingered for a split second and gave him a last squeeze before dropping his hand and taking a step back. Still, Judel stayed close enough for Isidore to feel his reassuring presence.

‘So you escaped the lion, then?’

Isidore couldn’t even answer. His whole body shivered violently. He wished Judel was still holding him, because his knees threatened to buckle.

‘Speak, boy.’

‘Y-yes, my lord.’ Even saying those words made his stomach twist with disgust.

‘You’ve always had an affinity to animals, even as a child. So your mother said. I did her a favour, really, taking you off her hands and putting you to work. What was she going to do with a son as useless as you? Not a thread of magic in your entire body, and it’s not for lack of good parentage.’

‘My father had no magic in him either,’ he mumbled.

‘Speak up, boy, before I lose my patience.’ Lord Torell raised his voice. Experience told him the duke’s patience was lost all too easily.

Isidore repeated his words, forced himself to look at Lord Torell in the eye. He wanted to look at him when he confirmed what Isidore already knew, that another man was his father, that he had no relation to the duke, a man of such cruelty he couldn’t bear to even look at him.

But Lord Torell laughed, getting off the bed, and coming to stand in front of him.

‘You’re funny. But I suppose none of us ever told you. Your mother was probably too ashamed to tell the truth, of course, though she shouldn’t have. There is no shame in giving herself to a man like me.’

Isidore’s breathing hitched and stopped.

‘What?’ The word rode the last of his breath as it left his chest.

‘There was some resistance; I had to convince her quite firmly to give herself to me, but nonetheless… But I don’t know how she managed to take my seed and only produce one such as you,’ Lord Torell grabbed the boy’s face so hard it made his teeth grind and his bones hurt, his cheek throbbing where he had been punched earlier. Isidore wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of wincing.

‘Ah, look at that. Some of the rebellion I saw in your mother’s eyes that night,’ he grinned. ‘Your so called “father” was a useless sort of man who wasted his time with scrolls and parchments that are of no use to anybody. Though it all made for a nice fire, I must say.’

‘Fire?’ Isidore’s head was buzzing, as if filled with noise.

Lord Torell shoved him back only to watch him stumble.

‘It was all your fault, really. You insisted on escaping. So many times I had to send guards after you, and so many times I had to have you beaten, and you never learned. I even tried to erase the memories of your mother and that man, but you were unusually resistant to my power. Your mind wouldn’t give it up. That’s when I had the idea.’

Isidore’s body seized with panic. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to hear it. He wanted to yell at him to stop talking, but he couldn’t articulate words.

‘I convinced you I had taken pity on you, and I would take you home. Then I threw your mother and her husband to the beasts and burnt their mansion to the ground. We feasted and drank to the heat of that blaze for a couple of days. It was magnificent.’

Isidore’s stomach heaved and the small piece of bread he had eaten from the guard’s post came back up and splashed at his feet, triggering a fit of coughing and choking he couldn’t control. Flashes of bright flames and screams flooded his mind. Flashes of images he didn’t want to remember.

‘You surprised me then, boy,’ the duke said, turning his back on him. ‘The next day, you behaved as if nothing had happened. You were as tame as a puppy. It was like magic.’ He laughed at his own occurrence and Isidore’s head swayed badly. He thought he was going to faint.

A shadow shot past him, distracting him as it pounced on Lord Torell’s back. When his eyes focused, Judel was holding a knife to the duke’s throat, but he didn’t seem bothered.

‘I was wondering,’ he said, still smiling despite the blade pressing against his skin, ‘when you were going to make your move.’