Page 110 of Lord of the Lone Wolf
“It is,” Kitsuki confirmed, his gaze dropping to Maseo’s pale face. “Thanks to this brave man.”
The guard bowed. “I will deliver it at once.”
As both guards departed on their missions, Kitsuki pushed aside the entrance flap of his royal tent. The familiar comforts welcomed him, a pocket of order and refinement amid the chaos of the war camp.
He carried Maseo deeper inside, past the carved wooden privacy screen that separated the living area from his sleeping quarters. The bed dominated the space, its frame of polished silver inlaid with sapphires that caught the light from more crystal lanterns. Silken sheets in the royal blue of Talwyn and plush pillows promised comfort that seemed a world away from the battlefield.
With utmost gentleness, Kitsuki helped Maseo sit on the bed. The half-shifter winced as he settled, one hand pressed against his side where a deep gash continued to bleed. It wept a mixture of blood and greenish fluid, the necromantic corruption visible as dark veins spreading out like poisonous spiderwebs beneath his skin. Blood stained the fine silks, but Kitsuki paid it no mind. Linens could be replaced, but Maseo could not.
“Lean back if you need to,” Kitsuki murmured, steadying Maseo with a hand on his shoulder. The half-shifter’s skin was too pale,his breathing shallow and rapid. His face remained twisted in pain.
Kitsuki’s dragon stirred within him.He should be healing already, like he did after Ishibiya hurt him, he observed with growing concern.Even half-shifters have accelerated abilities compared to humans.
The observation troubled Kitsuki. Not only did Maseo’s wounds show no signs of the regeneration that should have begun by now, but they appeared to be getting worse. The death magic in Nasume’s blade seemed to consume Maseo from within.
Kitsuki moved to the sink near the bed. Unlike the primitive accommodations of most war tents, his featured the luxuries of the palace, including running hot water channeled through the Enchanters’ magic. He turned the silver faucet, allowing steaming water to flow into the basin.
Taking a soft cloth from a nearby shelf, he soaked it in the hot water, wrung it out, and returned to Maseo’s side. Kitsuki knelt before the bed, looking up at the wounded half-shifter with solemn care.
Maseo’s remaining eye fixed on Kitsuki with a mixture of gratitude and discomfort. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice weak but steady. “You shouldn’t kneel for me.”
Kitsuki remained unmoved by the protest. “You have done Talwyn a great service today, Maseo. You ended Nasume’s tyrannical reign when no one else could. If anyone has earned my respect, it is you.”
As Kitsuki raised the cloth toward Maseo’s face, the half-shifter flinched. Kitsuki paused, waiting until Maseo relaxedbefore proceeding. When the warm cloth touched his skin, he murmured in surprise, “It’s warm.”
“Did you expect me to use cold water on such wounds?” Kitsuki asked.
A ghost of a smile touched Maseo’s lips. “I expected nothing. I’m still not convinced this isn’t a dream.”
“If it were a dream, you would have no wounds.” Kitsuki cleaned the blood from the half-shifter’s face, taking great care around the edges of the wound that had claimed his eye.
The half-hearted joke drew a small, pained laugh from Maseo. “True enough.”
Kitsuki worked in silence for a moment, his movements precise and gentle. The wound across Maseo’s eye was deep and jagged, extending from his left cheekbone up through his eyebrow. The eye itself was beyond salvation, ruined by Nasume’s corrupted blade, but worse was the way the necromancy continued to eat away at the healthy tissue around it. Each time Kitsuki dabbed at the wound, more of that green fluid seeped out, carrying with it the stench of decay.
“How do you feel?” Kitsuki asked, though the question seemed foolish with Maseo’s injuries.
Maseo attempted a brave face. “I’m breathing. That’s something.”
“It is indeed.” Kitsuki rinsed the cloth in the basin. The water turned pink with the half-shifter’s blood but took on a greenish tinge.
A lynx shifter auramancer arrived, her amber eyes alert and assessing. Her white healer’s robes were pristine despite themud and blood of the war camp beyond, and her brunette hair was pulled back in a practical braid that emphasized her sharp features. She greeted them with a bow. “Your Majesty, I am Auramancer Lirienne. I came as quickly as I could.”
“Thank you for your promptness,” Kitsuki replied, stepping aside to allow her access to Maseo. “He has multiple wounds that require immediate attention.”
She approached the bed, her professional demeanor unwavering despite the severity of Maseo’s injuries. Her expression shifted to one of alarm. She placed her hands over his face, not quite touching him, and closed her eyes in concentration. A soft golden glow emanated from her palms, illuminating Maseo’s wounds with gentle light.
Kitsuki watched as hope warred with dread in his chest. The auramancer’s brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line as she concentrated. Her healing light flickered and recoiled, unable to penetrate the death magic that continued to spread through Maseo’s body.
After several tense minutes, she opened her eyes with a frown. “How were these wounds inflicted?”
“My father used a Divine sword corrupted by necromancy,” Maseo answered.
Understanding dawned in Lirienne’s eyes, followed by dismay. “That explains what I am sensing. The necromancy is actively consuming healthy tissue, your aura, and pieces of your soul, which is why I cannot heal you.”
The clinical assessment hit Kitsuki hard. Silver bled into his eyes as he struggled to maintain control of his dragon. “There must be something you can do.”
Lirienne bowed her head. “I am deeply sorry, Your Majesty. Necromancy is death magic, so the corruption is too aggressive for my magic to slow, let alone stop. I can send a healer to ease his pain and help prevent infection, but the necrotic wounds are beyond the abilities of any auramancer here.”
