He tipped his head forward to meet her pull.
“But yes—both human.”
A hush rippled through the others.
One whispered, almost reverent, “The Midnight Isle…”
The words stilled him.
The she-elf smiled, triumphant.
“Then your dark hair comes from your Eillish mother.”
It struck like a blade. The mention of her—so casual, so careless—brought a rush he couldn’t brace against. He shut his eyes, jaw tightening, fighting the swell of memory.
I think I’ve forgotten what her face looked like.
The she-elves chattered on, laughter glinting off the chamber walls, brushes whispering across skin. Gabriel leaned toward a silver tray, squinting at the reflection now gilded in gold swirls.
“Dask—” he cursed, recoiling. “If Jasmine sees me like this, I’ll never live it down.”
Viktor’s mouth curved, sharp.
“At least Zeporah will love it.”
Gabriel shot him a glare, though the grin returned before he could stop it.
“Feck off, Seraphim.”
Viktor’s quiet laugh broke through the perfume and paint.
When the she-elves finally drew back, pleased with their work, one clapped her hands lightly. “You’re free to roam the hall until the queen summons you. Stay within the east wing—you’ll hear the horns when it’s time.”
Gabriel dragged a hand over his painted jaw, muttering, “Let’s find some wine.”
Viktor groaned. “Agreed.”
They slipped into the corridor. Torches cast ribbons of molten gold across polished stone; the air already carried the scent of roasted meat and spiced fruit.
And there she was—Jasmine.
Standing beneath the carved archway, her gown black and liquid, jewels catching every tremor of flame. Gold anklets chimed at each step, her coiled hair grazing her shoulders, her skin lit with the warmth of southern sun.
Viktor slowed, catching the shift in Gabriel beside him.
By the time Jasmine’s eyes found them, Gabriel was already straightening—shoulders loose, charm sliding into place like armor.
“Lady Inara,” he drawled, stepping into the light. “Tell me you came to rescue my friend. He’s the only other human in this nest of elves.”
Her gaze swept Viktor once, then lingered on Gabriel, a brow arched.
“And what does that make you? His keeper?”
Gabriel chuckled. “Cruel.”
“Honest,” she countered, lips curving.
Viktor remained in the archway’s shadow, watching the sparks leap between them—a duel of smiles and glances.
