Page 64 of Lord of the Lone Wolf
“And looking increasingly uncomfortable,” Drayden observed with a sympathetic smile. “Go on, Maseo. Don’t keep the king waiting on account of these two peacocks.”
“We’ll continue this fascinating discussion of my many charms when you return,” Bitris promised.
“By which time I’ll have come up with at least ten more reasons why I’m the superior choice,” Rylan added with a theatrical bow.
Sudryl snorted. “And I’ll have sharpened enough weapons to threaten you both into silence.”
Maseo’s grin disappeared as he ducked out of the tent with Rylan close behind. The night air was cool against his skin after the heat of the crowded space they’d left.
The camp bustled with activity despite the late hour. Warriors moved between tents, carrying weapons and supplies. Enchanters worked to reinforce the magical barriers surrounding the encampment. The silver fires cast everything in an otherworldly glow, turning familiar faces into strange, shadowed versions of themselves.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” Rylan observed, bumping Maseo’s shoulder as they walked. “Relax. Everyone here has your back.”
“Especially you?” Maseo asked.
“Without question.” Rylan’s usual playfulness gave way to sincerity. “As does everybody in that tent and a good number of others throughout the camp.”
The simple truth of those words warmed Maseo more than he cared to admit. He had spent so long isolated, even among his father’s warriors, that the concept of belonging still felt new and fragile.
“How are you holding up?” Rylan asked, his voice gentler than before. “It can’t be easy preparing to fight against your own people.”
Maseo considered the question as they walked past a group of soldiers sharpening their weapons by one of the silver fires. “They were never my people. Not really. I was the half-blood bastard, tolerated only because my father found my suffering amusing.”
“But you trained with them, lived alongside them.”
“Yes.” Maseo’s hand moved to the old scar that ran along his collarbone, hidden beneath his tunic. “And they knew what my father did to me. Some participated, while others watched. None intervened.”
Rylan was silent for a moment, his stride matching Maseo’s as they wove through the camp. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to be surrounded by people who should have protected you, only to have them turn away.”
“It taught me to rely on myself.” The words came easier than he expected. “To survive, no matter the cost.”
“And now? What are you fighting for tomorrow, if not survival?”
The question caught Maseo off guard. He had been so focused on the tactical aspects of the coming battle that he hadn’t examined his own motivations.
“Freedom,” he said after a moment of reflection. “Not only from my father’s cruelty, but from the fear that has shaped my entire existence. And…” Maseo hesitated, uncertain if he should voice the rest of his thoughts.
“And?” Rylan prompted.
“And for the people who have shown me that life can be more than surviving from one day to the next.” Maseo met Rylan’s gaze before glancing away. “For Talwyn. For all of you who have treated me as something more than a half-breed to be tolerated or a tool to be used.”
Rylan’s expression softened. “We’re fighting for you, too. Every one of us.” A grin broke across his face, lightening the moment. “Although I suspect Bitris is fighting for more selfish reasons involving getting you out of your armor and into his bed.”
Maseo snorted, appreciative of the return to easier territory. “He’ll be disappointed.”
“Yes, I suppose you might have better offers when the war is over. But we both know Bitris never stood a chance against your protector.”
Heat crept into Maseo’s cheeks. It wasn’t the first time Rylan had implied that Kitsuki had an interest in him. He couldn’t help thesmall smile that tugged at his lips. The banter, as ridiculous as it sometimes was, made him feel normal.
They approached the largest tent in the encampment, its canvas walls reinforced with enchantments that shimmered in the night. Two royal guards stood at attention outside, their expressions impassive as they recognized Rylan and Maseo.
“His Majesty is expecting you,” one guard said, stepping aside to allow Maseo entry.
Rylan gestured for Maseo to step forward. “This is where we part.”
Maseo had spent considerable time in Kitsuki’s presence over the past months, yet being summoned sent a flutter of anxiety through his stomach.
“Try not to look so worried,” Rylan told him. “If the king wanted to berate you, he wouldn’t have sent me with a smile.”
