Page 9 of The Lionheart’s Bond (Bonds of Dusk and Dawn #1)

JUDEL

T he beast held Judel in its claws until eighth bell tolled. Just like every other day, his consciousness was drowned by that of the wild, his human thoughts melded into the lion’s by mid-morning and began to return toward mid-afternoon. Only in the evening did the prince regain control of his morphed body.

Except this time. Judel’s consciousness snapped back into place at once, forgoing the gradual progression it usually went through. Stretched out on a branch, his leg dangled down. The first conscious thought that formed into his mind revolved around the now familiar metallic taste in his mouth. Somewhere not far must lie the carcass of a raccoon or a wild sheep. Hopefully not a stag, he thought, the concern of hurting any of his brothers pressing down into his chest. Nothing like that had ever happened, none of them had met and fought, not that they knew, but the longer the curse lasted, the more risk of it existed. There had been so many close calls that first time.

Tracking the sun across the sky, he gauged how long before he could get home, so he could make sure everyone was safe.

There was nothing else he could do about it for now, and it would be a long afternoon, now he was free of the beast’s will so early. Something must have happened. Something different.

He searched his recollections with little hope. The beast’s memories were its own and did not usually mix with his, a fact he was grateful for. He licked his paw distractedly, forgetting himself, still trying to remember, when the faint scent of lavender and white willow reached his nostrils, dragging with it images, vague and blurry in his mind’s eye.

Who did it remind him of?

Nahel? Did Nahel perfume herself with lavender and willow bark water?

Or their mother?

When he was little, the maids would wash them with waters infused in medicinal herbs. Lavender and white willow bark and other foraged flowers, to relax them and help them go to sleep when they were sick or hurt.

Hurt!

The pieces fell into place, his heart pounding in his chest as the memories consolidated into solid images.

It was Isidore.

Isidore had found him. He must have followed him for hours. Or maybe Judel only found him by chance.

Why would the young man follow him?

His heart bounced in his chest as he slid down to the floor. He sniffed the tree trunk, and the roots; a branch and a rock, searching for the trail of medicinal scent.

What had happened, damn it? Whatever it was, he had lost most of his human consciousness by then. He could even remember the growl that began in his throat when Isidore entered his field of vision. The tension in his back legs, the way he had lied low to the ground, muscles coiled, ready to jump.

Divine Lords, did the lion kill him?

He had to find him.

Following his nose, the faint trail led him through trees and down a creek and was soon joined by the smell of blood. He sped ahead, blood rushing through his veins, past a clearing he knew well. He wasn’t far from home, fortunately.

But where was Isidore? The urge to call burnt at his lips. A roar split the air.

Coming around a rock just there, Judel saw him. Leaning back against a tree, Isidore was nursing his arm, the sleeve soaked in red.

His mouth filled with a bitter taste, his eyes widening, his heart hammering in his chest. Guilt and concern mixed in his chest like a heavy boulder, suffocating him.

What could he do? Still in animal form, he worried he’d scare Isidore, yet was unable to stop himself from getting closer. He must have hurt him, Judel thought, choking. Clawed at his arm or bitten him. Isidore was lucky to be alive and he… Well, he was just a mindless beast, like the boy had once said.

Isidore turned his eyes towards him. They opened wide. Panicking, he tried to crawl away, without getting anywhere. Judel’s insides dropped. The image of the man he had kissed that morning was impossible to reconcile with the terrorized boy in front of him. All his eyes had screamed earlier was ‘give me more,’ but now… Now all they saw was a monster, which was exactly what he was.

He should leave, come back once he had shifted. A grunt and feeble shuffling stopped him in his tracks. It wasn’t Isidore. The voice was deeper, older.

Behind him, a man dressed in leathers and pieces of chain mail, —a warrior or a bandit maybe—lied on the ground, his face in the dirt. How could he have missed him?

The prince approached the body. The man was only unconscious. No livery or distinctive colours on his clothing. Not a soldier or a guard, then. Close by, a bloodied knife. He looked back over his shoulder, Isidore pale as a sheet, red staining his fingers as they put pressure on his arm. Was it possible this man was the one who hurt Isidore and not the lion? Hoping for the circumstance to be so seemed foolish and yet he could not do otherwise. The thought alone made him want to bite the man’s face off.

But Judel had to keep his temper under check. Who was this man and where had he come from? Even if he was now holding back from hurting that bandit, Judel intended to see him punished. And even if that wasn’t a factor, he couldn’t leave him alone with Isidore. He was clearly dangerous.

But why had Isidore not left? He should have run away as soon as he had the chance.

Judel tried to get closer to the boy again, maybe indicate he should leave by pulling from his sleeve, but Isidore crawled away every time he tried to get closer. He didn’t want to terrorize him any more than necessary. Without another choice, he dropped down on the forest floor, between the bandit and Isidore, and waited. It was still hours until sunset, but he hoped Isidore would realize he had to leave this place before that happened.

And yet, time passed, bells rang, and Isidore remained, his mind lost, his gaze lost in another world, occasionally losing consciousness, or maybe falling asleep, holding his arm tight against his chest.

Thoughts battled each other in Judel’s mind as he waited too. The confusion as to what had happened. The concern for Isidore’s wound. The memories of soft lips on his mouth, warm skin under his fingers where he had grazed his body. It made him dizzy.

The tingling caught him by surprise, snapping his thoughts back to the present as if he had dozed off. His eyes searched for Isidore of their own accord, making him half hopeful the man had made his way back to the castle, but no, he was still there, now staring, as if he could tell something was about to happen.

Judel considered leaving. Hiding would be better than Isidore witnessing what was about to happen. He’d still believe the prince human. The prince dreaded to think Isidore might look at him with that same panic on his face once he knew about the curse. None of his limbs responded to his commands to move though, anchored to the spot by the part of him that wanted to test the boy. The part of him that wanted to force the other man to run away from him.

What had been the meaning of that kiss? Not once in his life had he looked at a man with desire before, and now this boy was making him wonder why he hadn’t. The very first time he set eyes on him, Judel had thought Isidore pretty, and he had only gotten prettier after being fed properly by the royal cooks.

Maybe it was the way he had looked up at Judel, like his entire life depended on him. Like Judel mattered.

But she had looked at him like that once, too.

He’d reject Judel, once he knew. And he’d find out sooner rather than later, even if the prince tried to hide it. How could he not? It would be better, then, that he found out soon. Now.

The thought that it might spare them both later suffering did nothing to alleviate the suffocating pressure on his chest or the lump in his throat. Isidore would see who he really was and put distance between them. It was for the best.

So why was he so scared?

His muscles tensed painfully. It was almost time, the dying sun unable to penetrate the tree cover.

His entire body seized, and a roar escaped his lips, making Isidore jump. The pain spread through his stretching limbs, and he tried to overcome it by keeping his eyes fixated on the boy, now watching him in amazement. Isidore’s eyes became impossibly large as the fur melted away and he was finally able to stand on his own two feet.

He didn’t dare move, dazed with pain, panting. Isidore was looking up at him as bewildered as Halana in the Mists.

‘Are you all right?’ Judel asked at last, advancing clumsily as his body remained stiff, fighting the cold.

No answer was forthcoming. Isidore held his gaze for a second longer, before dropping to the man still passed out somewhere behind him.

Judel knelt next to the guy and searched his pockets. Nothing he found pointed to an identity, but there was a length of rope tied to his belt that would come in handy. Lifting the man onto a sitting position, Judel tied him to a tree. Hands bound over his head, the rope taut, hanging over a tall branch, the bandit wouldn’t be able to escape without help and Judel was confident none would come before the prince could order his men to retrieve him.

He was about to leave him and go back to Isidore when a gust of wind reminded him of his conspicuous situation. Moving had saved him from feeling the cold too much, but that was not going to last. Soon, he would calm down, and the cold winter night would bite at him.

Turning on his heels, he pulled the man’s boots off and ignored his grunting and whines of pain as he took his trousers. They were too big at the waist and too short in length for him, but it would do till he got home. He considered his shirt too, but the bandit would need to be interrogated. He was already hurt; there was no need to risk it by leaving him too exposed to the elements too.

He tied the straps around his waist, and turned to find Isidore staring at him.

‘Saves me from taking your trousers,’ Judel grumbled awkwardly.

‘My…’ Isidore looked at him, and then down at his own legs and laughed in a low, unsettling way. ‘They’re yours, aren’t they?’

The boy smiled up at him and a part of the weight that had been accumulating on his shoulders lifted.

‘Shouldn’t you take his boots too?’ Isidore asked, and Judel worried his voice was so weak.

‘Too small,’ he said, not even looking in the prisoner’s direction. ‘Arm,’ Judel knelt next to Isidore, a frown deepening on his brow, unable to look Isidore in the eye.

The boy extended his arm obediently. The gash ranacross Isidore’s forearm. The bleeding was not insignificant, but the wound wasn’t as deep as he had first feared, the edges neat and even.

‘He attacked you?’

Isidore nodded.

‘You covered with your arms.’

‘Yeah,’ Isidore said, his tone burdened with self-derision.

‘I don’t think it’ll need stitches,’ he said, relief making him smile. ‘What happened?’

‘You don’t remember?’ Isidore asked, visibly confused.

Judel’s jaw tensed, his eyes looking anywhere else but at the boy.

‘Just tell me,’ he snapped, looking at him again.

Isidore frowned before his eyes lowered to his lips, and Judel swallowed, forcing himself to ignore the feelings awakening inside him. The boy’s throat moved with the effort of swallowing too.

‘You… You ran away this morning and I thought I had done something wrong, so I followed you, but didn’t find you, but I looked outside, and I saw the…’ He cleared his voice. ‘The lion. I followed it almost without thinking but I got lost. I wandered for a long time and then the lion… You, it found me and it growled at me. It prowled like I was prey.’ Isidore words came fast, as if he wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. ‘And you were about to pounce on me. The lion was about… Its eyes glowed yellow, and then I gasped, and I stepped back and fell, and I thought I was done for, but the lion stopped. It just stopped. It looked me in the eye and grunted. But it didn’t attack me. It turned and I thought it was going to leave, but that man appeared out of nowhere and came after me. He slashed at me, or maybe at you but you got out of the way. I don’t know. He cut my arm and laughed. I think he was going to say something, but the lion pounced on him. The man was out before I knew what happened.’ Isidore finished his sentence, his eyes looking at his own lap once again.

‘What happened after?’ he asked, forcing himself to swallow.

‘What—’

‘What did the lion do?’ He felt his own jaw tense to the point of snapping.

‘No, it…’ Isidore took a steadying breath. ‘The lion left. It looked at me once and left. That’s it.’

Pity and concern melded in the boy’s eyes now. It was almost worse than the fear. He dropped his eyes, avoiding the expression all together.

‘Why didn’t you run back to the castle?’ Judel forced the words out, the sound of his voice harsher than he intended.

‘I couldn’t tell which way to go,’ he said with a sad chuckle.

Judel rubbed his eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.

‘Come on,’ he said, presenting his back to Isidore now.

‘I can walk,’ Isidore complained.

‘Don’t argue.’

The hint of a smile twisted a corner of the man’s mouth, but he didn’t try to fight him. Isidore stumbled despite holding on to Judel’s hand, and struggled to find his feet, forcing the prince to steady him by wrapping a hand around his waist. The blood loss might have been sufficient to make him dizzy, since he hadn’t recovered properly, but he wasn’t too much worse for wear other than that. Dirty, his skin felt cold even through the clothing, but nothing that a good fire and some blood broth wouldn’t fix.

Sliding Isidore’s arm around his neck, Judel pulled him onto his back. He hooked his hands under the boy’s knees, and carried him back to the castle, almost blind in the dark, like a good old horse who knew his way home.

Worry painted on their faces, Nahel and Neisha waited by the entrance.

‘Get the physician,’ was all he managed to say, sore and tired.

‘Hina,’ Neisha started, walking away in search of their brother.

‘Guard!’ Nahel called. ‘Get Physician Delon, please.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

The guard squared himself and left in a rush while Judel crossed the hall and found the stairs.

‘I’ll take him now,’ Neisha offered, but Judel ignored him. He took the steps, ignoring the painful tension in his thighs, and made it to the second floor.

The room had grown cold. The fire had gone out and his anger flared at the thought of no one tending to it. He deposited the boy carefully on the bed.

‘Thank you,’ Isidore whispered.

Judel didn’t answer, busying himself with the fire instead. He was freezing.

‘What happened?’ Nahel asked, stepping into the room, followed by Neisha.

Isidore didn’t answer.

‘Brother, you need to explain,’ Neisha insisted.

‘Fine! But not here. I’ll light the fire and come downstairs when I have my own shirt on, if it’s all the same to you both.’

Neisha’s face stiffened, his mouth a thin, straight line, and Judel stood up, squaring up to his older brother. The man might be the rightful heir to the throne and his older brother, and even be smarter than him, but Judel was stronger, and he was not ashamed or too shy to make that fact obvious to anyone who crossed him right now.

‘Enough, you two,’ Nahel said, pulling from Neisha’s arm. ‘Leave him,’ she ordered. Neisha’s chest swelled but he bit down on his own emotions and stepped back. ‘Come down as soon as possible,’ she warned him as she pushed their brother out of the room.

Ignoring the drama waiting for him downstairs, he turned back to the fire.

‘I’m sorry,’ Isidore whispered weakly from the bed.

‘Sorry for what?’ Judel kept his eyes trained on the fire.

‘I’m a burden and I’m causing trouble for you with your family.’

‘It’s not your fault. You almost died saving… me.’ Judel swallowed hard, unable to look back. The fire was going now, there was nothing stopping him from facing Isidore once more, but he didn’t dare. The subject of the curse and all that it implied hung between them, and he feared what he would find in the young man’s gaze if he turned to face him. Fear, disgust. It would be too much to bear. More so in those big, green, adoring eyes he had looked into so many times. The disgust, the mockery, he was used to it by now; he had seen it many times, but the gazes he received from Isidore were different, new. Losing that was too dark a prospect.

The silence stretched, pregnant, heavy between them.

Was Isidore too scared to speak? When he talked to him in the forest, when he carried him, the young man hadn’t seemed afraid. To the contrary, warmth spread in his chest as Isidore had leant against his back with such trusting abandon. His body had been devoid of tension, his breathing even and warm by Judel’s ear.

‘How?’ Isidore’s single word surprised him, unaware he had let his mind drift.

With a deep breath and a fast-beating heart, Judel faced Isidore. He made time by pulling a shirt from his old drawers. Now covered in fitting clothing, he pulled a chair by the bed and sat. Resting his elbows on his knees, the prince rubbed his hands, trying to get some warmth and life back into his numb fingers.

‘A curse,’ he said, his voice thick. ‘It sounds so simple, said like that, but we know nothing. Not who cast it, or why. It is almost unreal to think that such a small word can hold the meaning of such evil.’ He pushed air in and out of his lungs, aware this was the first time he uttered these words to anyone, not having needed or wanted to explain things to anyone else before. ‘Seven years ago, our parents were killed and we all—the boys, you understand—we all transformed into animals. We turned human at night again, but during the day…’ His voice faded. ‘Some of us are dangerous.’

If he expected to feel any relief after sharing the story, it wasn’t forthcoming. None of the heaviness lifted.

This was it. This truth would end the young man's trust. The adoration he had glimpsed in his looks would become corrupt and turn into terror.

It was better like this, he insisted to himself, but it wasn’t working no matter how many times he chanted the words in his head. His heart raced as he forced himself to look up, to face the consequences of his revelations.

But there was no hatred or fear in the green of those eyes. There was emotion in them, in those beautiful, gem-like orbs, but it was mostly sadness.

‘I’m so sorry that happened to you.’ His voice was as soft as a caress.

Judel startled, felt the heat on his cheeks, laughed uncomfortably. His eyes dropped to his lap. A set of long, fine hands, old, healed scars covering the otherwise smooth skin, closed on his calloused fingers.

Judel covered the hand with his own, holding it like a prayer.

‘How did you get all these scars?’ He drew the white lines with a rough fingertip.

‘I took care of the animals for Lord Torell, remember? They scratched and bit a lot.’ The boy chuckled.

‘Ah, you’re our own Lady of Saramel,’ Judel mumbled, bowing his head dramatically.

‘My animals weren’t quite the Beast of Arna, though,’ Isidore replied, a chuckle lingering in his voice.

Judel frowned. Any of these wounds could have been him. That new injury on the boy’s arm could have been inflicted by the lion when he had no control over it. He could have hurt him badly, like he might have done to his sister that day. Killed him even.

Standing up abruptly, he dropped the gentle hands from his grasp. The chair slammed back against the wall.

‘Is something the matter?’ Isidore asked, his mouth tight, his eyebrows tilted.

‘Yes… No, no, nothing.’

Judel paced, trying to make sense of his feelings, of this fear forcing its way into his chest, burning his lungs, the taste of blood becoming vivid in his mouth.

‘Judel?’

‘What?’ He turned, surprised to hear his name.

‘I was asking if you would train me,’ Isidore asked, his face red and an inexplicable darkness in his eyes.

‘Train you?’

Isidore nodded.

‘If I had been able to defend myself—’

‘You want to fight?’ Judel asked, incredulous. ‘No! You need to rest and recover. There is no need for you to fight.’

‘But—’

‘I need to go talk to the queen,’ Judel said without looking back. He needed out of there.

‘Oh, sure. I’ll see you later…’

Judel paused at the door. Was it a question? He just grunted noncommittally, not knowing what to do.

Out of the door, he ran downstairs, back to his room, and found trousers his size, able now to put his own boots back on.

Regret bit at his heels as he made his way to the hall. Knowing Isidore alone in that room, so far away from him, he wished for nothing more than to be at his side. He’d sleep on that chair every night if he had to, but Isidore might not want that. Even if he seemed to accept his situation right now, eventually he’d grow tired of it. No matter how soft or sweet his lips had been. No matter how warm his body had felt against Judel’s torso. No matter how greedy the eyes that looked back at him were, eventually Isidore would grow tired of spending his days alone, only to get a handful of hours with him in the evening, before Judel passed out, exhausted.

And if that was all of it, but there was also the danger. Images blurred in his mind, one melting into the next. The lion, drenched in Isidore’s blood, the young man’s body gutted under him, muzzle tinted red. Disfigured. Dismembered. The risk was too great. He couldn’t allow himself to get any closer to Isidore.

The hall was cold, only the one fire lit, as his brothers, the scribes and the queen huddled around it.

The room had stopped being a royal hall a long time ago, more of a battle room now. Nobody ever visited. No lords or neighbouring kings came to pay their respects. No villagers and citizens came to resolve their disputes or ask for the queen’s mercy or favour. Just them, coming and going, using the heart of the castle, the core of the kingdom, as another room. The throne, atop the dais, gathered dust that the servants dutifully cleaned, ready for the day Nahel would dare sit on it. Even on her coronation day, she only went as far as standing in front of it and no part of her body ever touched the cushioned chair.

During the day, light flooded the hall, spearing through the tall windows, but they were only allowed the dim, dancing lights of fires, torches and oil lamps, while true darkness lured outside, banished by the heavy curtains drawn over the cold glass.

‘What happened?’ Neisha accosted him as soon as he stepped into the room.

Judel glared at him, resigned to spending the next half hour explaining himself. Again. Every detail, every movement he remembered, every word. The collective holding of breath when he revealed his transformation to Isidore felt like pressure on his chest, but he had done it and there was no reason to hide it from them.

‘That’s how we made it back,’ he finished.

‘Call Captain Helge.’ The queen ordered one of the guards by the door.

‘Your Majesty,’ the man said, squaring himself and stepping away.

‘Jude—’ Nel began.

‘I swear, Nel, if you tell me I’m not smart enough, I will punch you until I bury you into that wall.’

Nel’s lips tightened as he put his hands up in surrender and Judel couldn’t tell if it was in fear, outrage, or he was trying not to laugh.

‘You called, Your Majesty,’ Helge came in, cloak billowing behind him.

‘Please send a few men North, into the forest. There is a man tied to a tree there that might be useful to interrogate.’

Helge looked at her with a curious look.

‘He assaulted our guest.’

‘I understand.’ Helge bowed his head and turned on his heels, ready to fulfil the queen’s orders.

Alone once more, everybody’s attention returned to Judel.

‘He could have been giving information to this bandit you mentioned. He might not be a bandit at all,’ Hina suggested.

Judel grunted in frustration.

‘The man attacked him, so it seems far-fetched, brother,’ Brin intervened, not looking up from his wine. Brin was most likely taking his side for the pleasure of standing against the queen, but Judel was grateful for his support all the same.

‘It could be a ruse,’ Neisha continued, ‘to make us trust the boy.’

‘Of course, brother!’ Judel threw his arms in the air. ‘He’s a spy, and he knew I was a lion from the beginning and happened to find me one day I randomly got lost, then pretended to defend me, almost dying in the process, just so he could be dragged back here with little chance of survival, and then, days later, meet some asshole in the forest who slashed his arm with a knife. Is this what you suggest happened? Because it’s bordering on the insane. Even I am smart enough to see that.’

And even though he knew there was no amount of reasoning that would completely clear their doubts about Isidore, he was relieved to see some of the tension lift from his siblings’ faces.

‘Give me that.’ He snatched the goblet from Brin’s hands and dropped in the chair next to him. Maybe now that he had appeased the beast of the queen’s persecution complex, he could sit at ease.

He emptied the red, smooth liquid into his mouth before slamming it on the table.

‘At least for now,’ he thought to himself.