Page 89 of Wolf Caged (Bound to the Shadow King #1)

KAELERON

“ M edic!” I yelled as I strode into my castle, Saphira tucked close to my chest, one of my arms cradling her back while the other supported her legs.

I kept walking, heading for the great hall at the end of the broad corridor, my gaze flickering between her and the arched double doors ahead of us.

I willed her to be strong, as strong as I knew her to be in these coming moments.

The bleeding had stopped, but her blouse was wet with it, her skin stained by it, and the material concealed the wound, making it impossible for me to reassure myself that the tonic really had done its job and she would survive this wound.

Jenavyr was the first to come rushing down the stairs near to the entrance of the great hall, her silver eyes wild as they landed on me and then Saphira, and the way she looked at me, concern shining in her eyes, told me Saphira was not the only one with injuries that needed tending.

I did not notice my own wounds as I carried Saphira towards the doors.

“They are already waiting for you,” my sister said as she fell into step beside me, that concern in her eyes growing.

“How?” I kicked the double doors open and sure enough, the medics were waiting beside the dais, as if someone had warned them we were coming.

“Neve.” It was all my sister needed to say. “She had a vision. She saw Saphira wounded. Saw your return. Kael, she… she left her home to warn us.”

Dread pooled in my stomach, weighing down my insides as I strode towards the dais and gently laid Saphira down before my throne.

Her blood glistened on the leather of my armour as torchlight flickered over us, the warmth of it struggling to improve the pallid colour of her skin.

I stroked fingers through her tangle of silver hair. Fight. Be strong.

The three males dressed in black robes moved as one towards her and I paid them no heed as they made me stand and move back from her, as one checked me over while the other two tended to her.

My gaze remained rooted on her, the whole of my focus narrowed to her as I willed her to be strong. Survive.

A growl pealed from my lips when they stripped her blouse from her, in danger of exposing her, and my sister hurried forwards, swatting them away until she had taken one of the cloths they had brought with them to soak up the blood and had laid it over her chest.

I stared at the wound on her right shoulder, at the reddened skin that was already healing, the wound closed but still tender looking.

And told myself she would live.

But had the wound been only inches to the left, she would have died.

Because of me.

The physicians took their leave, bowing their heads to me as they departed, and I continued to gaze down at the little wolf as she breathed slowly, easily, as if she merely slumbered rather than had succumbed to exhaustion during one of the teleports.

I grew increasingly aware that it was not only Jenavyr with me now.

Malachi loomed like a shadow close to one of the ornate pillars. Riordan casually leaned against the one opposite him. And Neve hovered, her amber eyes as bright as fire as she checked Saphira over and whispered apologies to her in the dragon tongue.

I was the one who should be apologising to Saphira. I was the reason she was injured. Not Neve. It had been my decision to take Saphira with me, a rash and reckless one born of jealousy and a dark need to keep her away from Morden.

I had endangered her, and I had endangered Neve too.

Her amber gaze was grave as she looked at me and muttered, “Do not give me that look. I saw her injured. What else was I to do? I wanted everyone to be ready for your return.”

She had been worried about Saphira—her friend—and had done what she could to save her.

She had left her home, had stepped beyond the protective wards for the first time in decades, and had risked her own life by doing so.

But whatever happened as a consequence of her actions, I would keep her safe. I silently vowed that as she checked on Saphira, humming softly to her. I would keep them both safe.

Jenavyr neatly piled the pieces of my chest armour near her and then looked at me, her brows furrowing. “You will be well, brother?”

I looked down at the bandages that crossed my chest and wrapped around my hands, and nodded. “I am healing and they gave me a draught to help. The bandages are wholly unnecessary.”

And I would remove them once I was alone, would bathe to rid myself of the dirt and blood.

Saphira’s blood.

“What happened?” Malachi positively growled those words. “I knew you should have taken me with you. A little wolf?—”

“Saphira served me well,” I growled, cutting him off, unwilling to have him belittle her strength. He did not know her. He did not know how strong and brave she was, or how she had thrown herself into battle despite her fears. “We secured An’sidwain.”

I nodded towards the pack next to Saphira.

Neve scurried to it and ripped it open, scattering the contents across the flagstones, and her eyes lit up as she found what she was looking for.

She cooed at the ruby crystal as she gathered it carefully into her hands and brought it to her chest, as if it was a baby.

As she held it, it seemed to grow, the sides expanding outwards a little.

I shook my head, sure it was fatigue making me see that, and turned to my sister.

She was already in her armour, the black metal plates covering her from her shoulders to the pointed tips of her boots.

I had failed to notice that until now. Vyr had come dressed for war.

She knew something more than Saphira’s injuries had had me hurtling from the Wastes, expending far too much magic.

“Seelie cross the Wastes.” I sank onto my throne, gaze on Saphira, monitoring her as she twitched and her face crumpled for a moment before relaxing again. She would wake soon.

“Summer Court?” Riordan pushed away from the pillar, no longer so casual.

I shook my head.

Saphira loosed a little sigh.

Her eyelids fluttered.

“Evening Star Court. A scouting party. Perhaps a hundred strong.” I watched her as she woke, as her eyes slowly opened, and then she suddenly shot up into a sitting position, gasping and reaching for her injured shoulder, her eyes wide and filled with fear.

Vyr went to her, crouching beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder as she softly whispered, “All is well, Saphi. You are home in Falkyr.”

Home.

If only that was the truth.

Saphira’s blue gaze shifted to me, relief swamping her eyes. “What happened?”

“You passed out. I carried you here.” I struggled to keep my voice cold as I said those words, fighting to raise a barrier between us again, one that might shut her light out and stop it from touching my heart.

She frowned at me, confusion crinkling her brow, and I despised myself for being so cold with her.

But it was necessary.

“An’sidwain?” she whispered.

“Neve has it.” I looked for the dragon but she was gone, returned to her home in the dungeon.

No doubt she would tell the wolf there that Saphira had returned and he would demand to see her.

So be it.

It was time I took the measure of this male.

“Jenavyr, you will head to Rhyn’s Gate. The Winter Court must be warned about this incursion into unseelie lands.” If Rhyn would welcome any member of my court into his lands, it would be either me or my sister, and I had business that required my attention here. “Leave immediately.”

Riordan stepped forwards and I stopped him with a look before he could offer to go with her.

“Riordan, gather her legion and yours. Ready them for war.” I waited for the vampire to nod before I looked to Malachi.

“War?” Saphira breathed.

My gaze shifted to her. “The seelie march on the Wastes and a message must be sent to their court and their high king that incursion into unseelie lands will not be tolerated.”

She frowned at me. “What kind of message?”

I held her gaze, unflinching as I said, “Their heads delivered in boxes.”

Her eyes widened as she gasped.

So innocent.

I had been wrong to think her strong enough to live in my world, that she could come to understand it in time, I could see that now as a war erupted in her eyes and her lips flattened, holding back the words she wanted to let fly in my direction.

“War is brutal, little lamb. It is no place for kindness.” I turned my gaze from her to Malachi. “Fly out to the Wastes. Stay high and stay hidden. I want those seelie tracked and I want a detailed report on every male.”

I signalled to one of the guards now stationed at the double doors.

“Bring our guest from the dungeon.”

“Morden?” Saphira brightened, her gaze flying to me, the darkness that had clouded it gone. Because of the wolf.

“Yes,” I growled. “Your precious Morden. We shall see if this male you vouch for is as noble as you believe.”

She glowered at me, a hint of hurt in her eyes as she righted her clothes. I waved my hand through the air, summoning another of her blouses for her, and tossed it to her. She hurried behind my throne, a rustle of material that had me glaring at the two males in the room.

Riordan and Malachi filed in behind Jenavyr as she strode from the room, leaving me alone with the little wolf.

Saphira emerged, her gaze on me as she came around me, that hurt and confusion in it cutting at me.

She opened her mouth to say something and then snapped it shut as heavy boots sounded on the marble floor and her eyes darted to her left, to the end of the aisle, and the dark-haired male walking down it.

“Morden.” Saphira hurried to him and he did not resist her as she wrapped him in her arms.

In fact, he signed his own death warrant by wrapping muscled arms around her and holding her just as tightly.

“Saphi.” He gripped her shoulders and pushed her back, his grey eyes raking over her and brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Really. Our pack… How did you find out I was here? Are the pack?—”