Page 122 of Lord of the Lone Wolf
“What does this mean?” Maseo asked.
Auslin’s thumb traced a small circle over Maseo’s heart, the gesture tender and possessive at once. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to let you go.”
“Then don’t.” The words escaped before Maseo could stop them, carrying the weight of everything he knew he couldn’t have.
Auslin gave him a wan smile. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Maybe it could be.” Even as he said it, Maseo knew better.
They both did.
Chapter 41
Kisano
Astorm continued to rage outside as Kisano sat at his favorite reading table, a volume of rare Liros poetry open before him. The animated conversation taking place nearby distracted him.
Sephen stood before one of the towering bookcases, gesturing as he described an obscure point of literary theory to Fersen, who listened with the fond amusement of a close friend familiar with passionate dissertations. The sight warmed Kisano’s heart. Having Sephen as his mate and witnessing his beloved’s unbridled joy in discovering new treasures among the collection made the vast library feel alive.
“And that’s why Liros’s philosophical treatises are so extraordinary,” Sephen was saying, extracting a leather-bound volume from the shelf. “He weaves complex metaphysical concepts into prose that reads like poetry. The way he explores the nature of knowledge itself as a living force is breathtaking.”
Fersen grinned, settling more comfortably against the bookshelf. “Here we go again. Should I prepare for another three-hour lecture on the brilliance of ancient authors?”
“Mock me all you want,” Sephen replied with a laugh, “but Liros and Reskin understand that true wisdom comes not from accumulating facts, but from grasping the connections between all things. Though I must say, Reskin’s later works show a depth of insight that rivals Liros’s most profound passages.”
Kisano felt heat rise in his cheeks at the comparison. After all their time together, it still surprised him to be mentioned in the same breath as the legendary Liros. Sephen speaking about both authors with such reverence and understanding never failed to move him.
The library doors opened with their familiar whisper of hinges, and Kitsuki entered. Kisano could see the weariness in his younger brother’s posture and how his shoulders carried burdens that had not been there when he left for Kunushi. Even a victorious war left its mark on those who waged it.
Fersen glanced up as Kitsuki approached, hope and anxiety warring in his expression. “Welcome back!”
“Thank you, Fersen. Please know that Uncle Jaega is well and unharmed,” Kitsuki assured him, his formal tone softening. “He has remained in Kunushi to oversee the transition of power following Nasume’s death. The kingdom requires careful management to prevent chaos in the aftermath of such tyrannical rule. But no harm has come to him during the war.”
Relief flooded Fersen’s features, and his entire body relaxed for the first time since Jaega had left for war. “Thank you for telling me. I know he can take care of himself, but I couldn’t stop worrying.”
“He spoke of you often during our time in Kunushi. Your support gave him the strength to persevere.”
Sephen, who had been listening with polite attention, stepped forward. “We should leave you to speak with your brother in private,” he said, his natural perceptiveness picking up on the undercurrents in Kitsuki’s manner. “There are important matters to discuss.”
“I appreciate the consideration,” Kitsuki acknowledged with a grateful nod.
Fersen bowed. “Thank you again for the news about my mate.”
“And congratulations on your victory,” Sephen added before the two retreated.
Once they were alone, the vast library settled around the brothers. Kisano closed his book of poetry and turned his full attention to Kitsuki, noting the shadows beneath his eyes and the careful way he held himself, as if certain movements might reopen wounds, both physical and emotional.
“What happened?” Kisano asked, his voice gentle but direct. After centuries of being brothers, he had learned to read the subtle signs of Kitsuki’s distress.
Kitsuki settled into a chair with the measured grace that never quite left him. “The war was far more difficult than we expected, especially once we drew closer to Norello and faced the true extent of Ishibiya’s power.”
The name sent a chill through Kisano. He had been young when the reviled villain last walked in the Living Realm, but he had read countless accounts of the ancient being in various historical texts. Those dry academic descriptions had not prepared him for the reality of his brother facing such a creature in battle.
Kitsuki adopted the detached tone reserved for unpleasant tactical matters. “The necromancer summoned lichen. He reanimated skeletons infused with the souls of the dead, pulled from the Beyond Realm against their will. We also encountered necrowings, one of which transformed into a soulvore, which then infected the others.”
Kisano stared in disbelief. “A soulvore?”
“It took considerable effort to defeat them. It was only possible because I could access my mate’s Divine power. Ishibiya’s magic proved far more extensive than our intelligence suggested.”
