Page 5 of The Lionheart’s Bond (Bonds of Dusk and Dawn #1)

JUDEL

J udel tore the bottom of the boy’s shirt into a long ribbon, a makeshift bandage he pressed to the wound. The weight of the boy’s own hand served to hold it in place while he wrapped the rest of the fabric around his shoulder and tied it firmly as to press down onto the wound and hold the bolt in place. He then layered the clean shirt over it. The thin fabric might not do much to keep the boy warm, but it was better than nothing. And he still had the blanket.

Hoisting him onto the horse proved a difficult task in itself. Judel eased him on, mindful of pain or the bandage coming undone, loudly swearing every time he feared the other man might slip out from his grasp. They didn’t have the luxury of time. They must make it as far South as they could before sunrise. It would be impossible to make it back to Ilystead in such a short period of time, considering he must transform during the day and no amount of training would make a horse follow a mountain lion, but he would do his utmost to get there before the following sunrise long nights were his only advantage.

And so they moved, the boy nestled between his arms, wrapped in the blanket, the horse finding its footing along the forest floor, the smell of the night cold and humid. Finding their way home in the dark had become second nature for the Ilish princes. Those who were allowed outside had learned pretty quickly to rely on the stars to make their way home, and the night had blessed him with clear skies.

Most of them had incessantly complained about their classes, when young, including studying the night skies. It seemed useless, back then. But how were they going to know it would one day become one of their most useful skills?

The journey was slow under tree cover, but once on the road, Judel urged the horse to go faster. They were now on safe ground for the horse.

Their next problem was what to do with the boy while he became a lion. He needed care, yet Judel could not provide any, not once the sun rose. He would roam, hopefully not far this time, and would pray the boy didn’t die in his absence.

Their quick journey down the road saw them crossing the border at first bell, a seamless passage that filled Judel with relief as they rode under the shadow of Mount Eyar. The terrain shifted—rocky and desolate. No towns or villages nearby. If there had been enough time, he would have preferred to make it to Oakthorn. It was always full of merchants and travellers and would no doubt have a physician available even through the night, a service of which the boy was in dear need. But they would never make it there before morning.

Riding until the last possible minute before his transformation would also be helpful and gain them time, but he must set camp and prepare a place where the boy might rest, sheltered somehow from the elements. Had this been his horse, he might have tied the young man to it and trusted it to run home, but that was impossible.

He travelled South until about second bell, though no bells could be heard. There really were no villages nearby. The chill of the night deepened as earth hadn’t been touched by sunlight in several hours. Slowing his pace, he surveyed his surroundings, finding a secluded nook amidst a copse of trees, a shielded space where he could light a fire, and the boy would be hidden from view of the road.

The stolen belt proved useful once more. The serrated blade helped make quick work of gathering wood. Another stroke of luck had him stumble upon a fallen oak, its timber dry from days of wind and no rain. Soon, a modest fire flickered in front of them, casting a glow on the boy. Judel had gently laid him down, swathed in the borrowed blanket.

Seated beside him, he watched the shadows dance on his pale skin, tinting it in orange hues. What kind of person would risk his life to protect a beast? A wild, dangerous one, at that.

His cracked lips parted—a pained grunt slipping through his feverish haze. Judel gently applied his sleeve to the damp forehead, trying to make the young man more comfortable. He felt helpless, uncertain, but he was used to those feelings. Hina would know how to treat him. Brin would be able to fly for help in the morning. But all he was able to do was sit and wait for the change to come and pray to the Divine Power he didn’t stray too far.

Another cough wracked the fragile body, this time his eyes fluttering open. He moved his lips; words so faint he couldn’t hear if there were words at all; only a wheeze emerged. Frowning, Judel reached for the waterskin, tilting it carefully to wet the boy’s lips. The water traced the lines that cracked his flesh, prompting another cough as it slid down his throat.

‘Slowly,’ Judel snapped, irritated. The last thing he needed was for him to choke. He slipped a hand under his head, cradling it in his palm, elevating it just enough to ease his drinking. The boy managed a few sips before he became too weary to keep going.

‘Where are we?’ the boy asked in the old tongue, his voice feeble.

‘I’m not sure,’ Judel replied, casting a glance at their surroundings.

‘I thought I was dead.’ His voice sounded dry like sand. ‘Wh—’

‘Drink.’ Judel leant over the boy once more.

To his surprise, the boy’s lips quirked into a smile.

‘What?’ He frowned, puzzled. What could possibly be funny?

‘It sounded like an order.’

‘And that’s funny?’

‘It is…,’ he replied, amusement flickering in his eyes, even as his voice faded. He drank now. Judel lowered his head carefully back down and settled himself. The boy’s expression slackened, ready to slip away into unconsciousness again.

‘Before you pass out again.’ Judel’s voice sounded dry too, and he took a long sip of water. ‘I’m going to leave when the sun comes out. I’ve no choice. I’ll be back at sunset.’

‘Oh,’ the boy murmured, his eyes closing.

Judel blinked, incredulous.

‘Oh?’

The young man’s eyes remained closed, silence hanging between them. Was he unconscious again?

‘Yeah,’ he said at last.

‘No questions?’

The boy kept his eyes closed, yet the hint of a smile returned to his lips, if a weak attempt at it.

‘What of it now?’ he snapped.

‘Sounds…’ He coughed, winced at the pain. ‘Sounds like it annoys you.’

The boy was testing his patience, forcing him into silence least he said something he’d come to regret. Few were afforded the privilege to speak to him like that, though he supposed the boy couldn’t know whose company he was keeping. This thought triggered more questions on his end.

‘You haven’t even asked who I am.’

Only a soft noise of agreement could be heard.

‘You’re not worried I’m a bandit or wish you ill.’

‘You have a gentle face,’ the boy mumbled.

Judel was speechless once more, an unusual heat tinting his cheeks.

After gathering himself, he turned to the boy, ready to tell him off about the recklessness of that thought, but his breathing had turned even. He was asleep.

His unspoken words turned bitter on his tongue. His jaw clenched; he watched the boy’s expression turn into grimace as pain no doubt radiated from his wound. Something else he couldn’t help with.

The ground was cold and hard under his back, when he tried to get some rest. There would be no sleep for him that night, he knew. His entire body was alert to any potential threats. Instead, he stared at the stars above and waited for the inevitable to happen.

The morning sun climbed the sky just before fourth bell, its ascent as inexorable as the Divine Lords’ will. His body tensed; the painful warning etched into his flesh. It was the first sign.

As his transformation completed and he settled to watch the boy for as long as his consciousness allowed it, Judel knew his destiny was in hands of the Fateful Powers now.

The fire he had lit in the early hours of the morning was reduced to embers, when the veil of the wild lifted, later in the afternoon. Had Judel gone and come back? He couldn’t tell. Heart pounding, he went to check on the boy.

He lay nearby, unnaturally cold. Judel’s muzzle brushed by the boy’s nose. A faint breath tickled his whiskers. He grunted, powerless. The cold was now posing a bigger threat than his injury. The wound seemed under control at least, the blood congealed around the shaft. He was still unconscious, however, and Judel couldn’t tell if he had woken up during the day or not. Thirst and hunger must be bothering him, even the need to relieve himself. Judel roared in frustration at the sun, at fate, at misery. Must everything be this hard?

Unable to do anything else until then, Judel pressed his warmth along the boy’s side. Nothing happened at first, but later it looked like he might have turned slightly towards the lion. His complexion seemed to improve from the blue to the pale and lifeless, but no more than that, and the prince continued to feel uneasy. They had little time and no options.

Later, he pushed through the dregs of pain and stiffness to dress, urgency fuelling his every gesture. The boy wouldn’t survive another day like this. He needed to make it home before dawn. At least, the horse was rested, though likely bored and hungry, having been tethered to the same branch all day.

They rode hard, every jolt making Judel’s heart quicken. If the shaft dislodged from the wound, he could bleed out and he couldn’t stop to take care of it. At least they made good time and as twelfth bell tolled in the distance, he reckoned he could be home before first bell if he pushed it. It was a fine balance between ensuring the boy’s wound was as stable at possible and finding a way to get him help faster. Deciding at last, he wrapped his arm over the young man’s chest and held the shaft and the injury in place with his own hand while setting the horse at a fast gallop. The boy’s shirt loosened, sliding from under his fingers and had his hand pressed against the boy’s chest. It was a relief to find a heart still beating under the warm skin.

‘Almost there. Hold on,’ he mumbled, his voice a whisper at the boy’s ear. The young man’s head lolled back, coming to rest on the prince’s shoulder.

They emerged from the forest and followed the road stretching ahead. Fields and farms blurred as they rushed past. Soon the castle loomed—a mountain of stone that eclipsed the stars. Light spilled from its windows like a beacon for the lost. Ever uncertain when the princes would return home, the castle hadn’t slept since that horrible morning.

‘Stop there,’ a voice called as Judel urged his mount forward.

‘It’s me, Horald,’ he called at the guard, reining in the dark mare.

‘Prince Judel, Your Highness,’ the guard bowed. ‘We’ve been looking for you—’

‘Never mind that,’ Judel interrupted. ‘I need the physician, and Hina.’

‘Of course, Your Highness. Ronas, run to the castle and tell them Prince Judel is back. Make the arrangements.’ He turned back to the prince. ‘Let me help you, Your Highness.’ The guard said, reaching for the boy’s legs.

Judel dismounted, worry making him shift on his feet. Another guard stepped forward to help with the injured man, but Judel’s instincts flared.

‘Let me,’ he insisted, lifting the boy into his arms. He weighed barely anything. Distracted by the difficulty of lifting him onto the horse, he hadn’t paid attention before.

Nahel and Hina rushed out to the entrance hall as he walked through the door.

‘What happened? Where were you?’ Nahel’s voice cut through the whispering voices around him. She defied convention, leather-clad and sword-belted. She was their queen.

‘I went too far,’ he confessed, unnerved. ‘Across the border.’

‘In Cardeva?’ Hina pressed further.

‘Valecrest,’ he murmured, striding past them and taking the steps two by two.

He continued to the second floor. A left turn along the gallery led him to a row of doors, the second one to the left, familiar. It had been a while since he had been there last, he realized, kicking the door open.

‘I could have opened the door for you,’ Hina said, ever practical.

‘Strip the bed; it’s covered in dust,’ he barked.

A fine mist of dust swirled around Nahel and Hina when they pulled the blankets off the bed. A servant appeared just in time to take them away.

Judel laid the boy down with care, gentle as if with an old, frail man, on what used to be his own bed. The boy’s pallor unsettled him.

‘Light the fire, he’s too cold,’ he ordered as the servant returned. ‘And bring clean bedclothes.’

The woman bowed once more and rushed out.

‘Who is he?’ Hina stood by the bedpost, his gaze questioning.

‘How would I know,’ Judel snapped back, never taking his eyes off the boy. Too pale.

‘Of course, because why learn the identity of people we bring home…’ Nahel chimed in.

‘Maybe we should hear what happened first, sister,’ Hina said, standing by her side.

‘Hina.’ Judel turned a frowning glare to his brother. ‘I asked you to be here so you could tend to his wounds while the physician comes, not to refine interrogation plans!’

Hina didn’t need told twice, stepping up to the side of the bed, and leaned down to examine the wound.

‘He has lost a fair bit of blood, but it could be worse. Get the kitchen to send up some blood soup and some of that alcohol the cook makes in hiding. You,’ he pointed at the servants now coming in, clean blankets and firewood in hand, ‘bring me some clean cotton bandages.’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘You,’ Hina pointed at Judel, ‘hold him up.’

Judel positioned himself on the other side, wrapping am arm around the boy’s shoulders as Hina checked his back.

‘It needs to go through,’ his brother said.

Judel nodded, familiar with the procedure.

‘Hold him tight.’

Judel tightened his grip on the young man’s shoulder while his brother grabbed the arrow’s shaft, a cruel reminder of an act of bravery.

‘Ready?’ Hina’s voice was as steady as ever and reassured Judel.

Judel nodded, his jaw set. There was no time for hesitation. The young man’s breathing was so shallow, Judel feared he was too late.

Hina shoved the arrow hard, farther into the young man’s body. The man shivered, muscles tensing, but didn’t wake. Not a good sign.

A gasp came from the door, and they turned. The maid stood on the threshold, bandages and carafe in her trembling hands, her gaze shifting to Hina’s blood-streaked fingers. Judel’s brother reached towards the woman, who rushed to deliver the pieces of fabric. Hina wrapped it around the bolt’s head, breaking it off as the shaft split. Discarding the fabric, he methodically removed the loose splinters. He reached once more for the maid, who looked disconcerted.

‘The alcohol,’ he instructed coldly.

She nodded in confusion and gave him the carafe.

‘He could be a spy, you know?’ Nahel said, still watching them work.

‘He saved my life.’

‘That doesn’t mean—’ she tried.

‘He saved my life when I was in animal form.’ Their eyes met and they both paused, measuring each other. He didn’t flinch. The Queen nodded her acceptance. It was only temporary. It was always temporary.

‘I’m going to pull this out,’ Hina informed them, ignoring their confrontation. He poured the alcohol over the entire shaft before extracting it. The young man’s body tensed again; every muscle drawn so tight they might snap while the wood moved through his flesh. His body went limp when the shaft broke free.

That’s when the bleeding really started, crimson soaking into his shirt and remaining bedclothes. The way the stain spread was alarming.

‘Fuck!’ Judel cursed under his breath, still holding onto him as Hina pressed pads to the freshly open wounds.

‘Your Majesty, news have come!’ A guard burst into the room, breathless. ‘A messenger. Lord Joceus never made it to Fort Elver.’

‘Damn it,’ the queen snapped, her eyes flashing. She strode towards the door, her determination painted on her face. ‘You two, let’s go,’ she ordered over her shoulder already halfway out of the room.

Judel hesitated, torn between his duty to his sister, and his duty to the man who risked his life to save him.

‘I’ll stay—’ Judel started.

‘I’ll take care of him now,’ the royal physician interrupted. Delon left his bag on the bedside table, swiftly pulling off his tunic. ‘You go on.’ He glanced at them as he rolled up his sleeves.

Hina stepped aside, allowing the physician to take over, while his apprentice took Judel’s place. The princes followed their sister out of the room, leaving the boy behind. Weak, dirty and bleeding, Judel feared he would never get to thank him and continued longingly looking over his shoulders until the bed was out of sight.