The Wolf Esprit: Lykanos Chronicles 3

“I scowled at the sound of my older brother’s scream, annoyed that he’d awakened me in our bed,” Maximillian continued. “‘Be quiet,’ I mumbled. And of course, I never heard his voice again, nor any of them. Daniello had slaughtered my whole family while I slept, slitting their throats as I slumbered.”

Maximillian stopped. From his mind, I saw each of their faces, and the memories brought with them a hollowed shame.

“Of course, I was not responsible for their deaths, but he told me as much. He’d demanded I stay silent, that I honor Sforza’s code of silence. But since I’d broken it, they must die. It was nonsense, all of it, but I believed him, as I did everything that came from his mind.

“The rest went as you might imagine: seeing him in his wolf form, being stolen away to Castello Sforzesco, and how the trauma of it all nearly destroyed me. The wolves of that pack value only strength, and their numbers were such that they wouldn’t tolerate the slightest weakness in a lycan. I was too young to be turned—they would not have a boy wolf diminish their house, but I was old enough to become their servant. For years, I toiled in the kitchens and gardens—wherever a pair of hands were needed. I learned everything about their ways, their religion, and its view on humans, who they hunted in reverence to their god.”

“When I was your age, they appointed me manservant to a visiting dignitary from the north. Being silver-haired and appearing the age of my grandfather before passing, I didn’t comprehend who he was or the extent of his lycan power. I knew only the deferential respect Sforza’s wolves paid him, something I’d seen them do for no one else. And one night, I couldn’t help but speak to the man as I helped him out of his dinner jacket.”

“He was the man who became your father?” I asked.

Maximillian answered with a nod.

“‘Sempronius Mons Palatinus,’” the old man said to me.

“Sforza called him Sempronio. After a week of serving him, he had become protective of me. He struggled to contain his agitation with how the pack treated its children. It was something he would never have allowed to happen in his own house. And on his last night there, he asked me if I wished to return with him to the north.

“I was so taken with this old man, his warmth and sensitive intellect, so like my human father’s, that I didn’t hesitate to agree.

“‘You will leave everything here behind you,’ he warned, ‘and I will be your father from this day forth. My word and the rules of my house will govern you while you remain among us. I will change you into one of them, into the wolf who will free you from here, and you can never undo it.’

“I didn’t quite understand his meaning. In all my time as the pack’s servant, no one had explained to me the breed of immortality under which they lived. Sempronio helped me to understand that most in Sforza’s army were young. That most of us die in violence among other wolves.

“‘I am the elder of all in this house,’ Sempronio said, ‘including the Duke. He will not wish me to take you from them, but he is powerless to stop me. Still, I cannot steal you away unless you can run by my side. Will you receive this gift from me? Will you come?’

“Yes, sire,” I nodded emphatically.

“Sempronio rose from the dining table in his suite and walked to the window to draw back the curtain. The moon had just risen over the castle walls. It was not full, but a sliver crescent, and from his mind, I sensed he found this so unideal that he paused at the shame he felt. More anger for the others followed this emotion. He considered waiting a week for the full moon, but he shook his head. The moment must be now, he thought.”

“From his mouth came a language I’d never heard before, but from his mind, I understood his meaning.”

“‘Forgive me, Goddess, that I seek your audience when you still slumber in peace. But I need your strength now, like so many nights before.’

“Sempronio turned to me and reached to disrobe me. I hesitated and grabbed his wrists to stop him. He waited quietly until I realized what he meant to do and softened my resistance to release his hands so he might continue. Lovingly, the old man removed my clothes until I stood naked, then beckoned me to kneel before him.

“‘Maximo, son of Paolo and Elizabetta Fratini, servant of Castello Sforzesco, will you swear loyalty to my house, Castello Palatino, for the rest of your time in this world?’

“I nodded, but he waited for me to answer with my voice.

“‘I will, sire.’”

Maximillian stopped his tale to glance back at the full moon in the sky. It gleamed just over the forest top to shine down upon us as we stood in the circle. When he looked back at me, he reached to my collar and unfastened my shirt. Without resistance, I raised my arms so that he might draw the shirt over my head. I allowed him to remove my breeches and undergarments until I stood before him as he’d stood before his father that night in Milan.

“Kneel,” he said.

From his mind, I saw Maximillian’s memory of Sempronio all those years ago. At last, I understood why he’d wanted this moment to himself. He had entered this world without his peers or family at his side. He’d been alone in a room with the man who would become his father. It was sacred to him, and I understood he meant to show me the rest of his story as he performed the same ritual upon me.

“Will you respect the rules and order of my house? Will you defend it for the rest of your time in this world?” Both men’s voices reach my mind, the memory speaking in unison with Maximillian’s present voice.

“I will, sire,’ I said.

“Will you hunt the evil-doer to protect the people of my realm from malevolence of every nature, even at the cost of your own life?”

“I will, sire.”

“And will you take the name Roussade and become my son?” At his surname, I heard Sempronio’s voice echo the name Palatino. “Will you stand at my side for the rest of my days in this world?”

Again, I swore myself to him. I swore myself to them both—I swore myself to the legacy of their lineage.

Maximillian sighed with a deep sound of joy that echoed with the pride Sempronio felt that night. He bent to kiss my forehead, and I looked up to realize there were tears in his eyes.

He stood up again and turned to the moon to speak in his father’s language, mimicking the words that echoed from the memory that continued.

“Dea coeli, despice filium tuum genuflectentem ad lumen amoris tui,” he thundered in Latin. Speaking with music in his voice, he begged the Goddess to look down upon me as I knelt in the light of her love, prepared to receive Her blessing. Maximillian swore I would surrender my life to Her immortal strength and fly through time to deliver Her justice upon the wicked.

His words were a prayer dripping with adoration, reverence, and humility. And behind the whole, I heard Sempronio’s voice as if almost a century did not separate us.

When Maximillian finished, he bowed his head in silence at the Goddess to stand with reverence and gratitude.

I felt the cool of the night breeze on my sink and fought off a momentary shiver. It was the last sensation I recall feeling before my new Father turned to glare down at me.

Every muscle contracted at once, and the world swerved as my body fell to the dirt. I didn’t understand the intense pain that seared through my every limb, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe or move my tongue and jaw to plead for help. Nor could I move my eyes to look at Father. My heart had stopped pumping blood. The deafening roar threatened my sanity.

Come forth to fight me, Father called with his mind.

The assault on my senses was so complete that I couldn’t respond. At once, the pain stopped, and my lungs filled with air. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized he had been responsible for my suffering. I looked up at him from the ground to see a sheen of sweat glisten on his brow. He struggled to catch his breath. Whatever he’d done had exhausted him.

Stand up and protect him.

Father inhaled a deep breath and clenched his jaw.

I wouldn’t have believed it was possible to feel greater pain until a more pure flavor struck me. Somehow, over the roar, I heard another sound. It rumbled from behind me with anger.

You coward! How dare you fail him? Stand up, damn you!

The rumbling behind me became a growl filled with an angry warning.

Father stepped forward as if he would beat me with his fists, and the pain I felt under my skin became so intense I wanted to die. I thought every bone would shatter under its weight.

Come forth, I said!

My sight failed me as the beast roared from behind and flew over my body to stand between Father and me. The pain stopped altogether, as if nothing could touch me while he stood before me.

I opened my eyes to find myself standing. Father stared up at me with delight, and I roared at him. I would’ve killed him where he stood, but the light all around us stole my attention.

The night opened to me as I could never have imagined. I could see through the shadows of the forest. The light penetrated everything like it was daytime. But instead of the sun, my eyes found the moon flying in the heavens. She soared with a beauty that took my breath away. And I wondered if I could ever pull my eyes away to look upon anything else.