Gabriel peeled himself from the door, drifting to a gilded chest in the corner.
“Jasmine is human. A true lady of the court.”
He flipped the lid and tugged out a bundle of fabric.
“Our costumes…”
Viktor lifted a black shirt cut like the ghost of a cuirass, sides slashed open. He threaded his fingers through the gaps, scoffing.
“Where’s the rest of it?”
A knock jolted the room.
Viktor and Gabriel exchanged a wary glance.
“I’ll get it…” Gabriel clutched the ridiculous garment to his chest and cracked the door.
A she-elf in maroon silks bowed low.
“The queen bids me prepare you. Your face and hair will be adorned in the custom of the ancients. Shall I assist you with your costumes as well?”
Gabriel’s fingers crept up the doorframe like he might climb out of it.
“We’ll… handle that part.”
Another bow, another promise to return.
The latch clicked.
Gabriel groaned.
“We have to get out of here…”
“Not without Amerei.”
Viktor tugged the black leathers into place—sharp cut, meant for display more than battle. He reached for a slim dagger on the chest, slid it into his waistband.
Gabriel gawked. “How in the storm did you get that past the guards?”
Viktor only shrugged. “I don’t go anywhere without it.”
Gabriel grumbled something about stubborn Aerdanians—then another knock broke through the room. He straightened, flustered, tugging at his collar like he’d been caught guilty of something.
Viktor’s gaze flicked toward the door. Gabriel cracked it open.
A cloaked figure waited, hood drawn low.
A whisper slipped through.
“Captain Seraphim.”
Amerei.
Viktor eased the door from Gabriel’s hand, leaning close as she slipped inside.
Beneath the shadow of her hood, her voice trembled.
“My father and his men are hidden in the cherry orchard outside the castle walls. Do you know where that is?”
