“Your father cannot contend with what is coming. And you—kneeling before me—you are nothing. A pawn. A warning.”
Her boot struck out, sweeping Amerei’s legs. She hit her knees, wrists bound, chin bowing as Zeporah’s hand twisted into her hair.
Viktor surged against his chains, every muscle screaming. Heat tore through his chest, searing up his throat, pressing at hiseyes until his vision blurred. The fetters cut deeper, the smoke biting in—but the pressure only mounted.
Zeporah’s voice slid through his skull like smoke:
“A soldier in love with a princess—how quaint. How pathetic.”
Something inside Viktor tore open—not with noise, but with clarity.
Not the chains.
Not the hall.
Not the watching crowd.
Only her. Amerei.
Kneeling. Bound. Still reaching for him.
If he survived this and left her here, it would not matter what remained of him afterward.
His jaw locked, breath ragged.
Light flickered at his skin.
Blue mist welled behind his lashes.
“Viktor—” Amerei’s voice broke, caught between fear and surrender.
Zeporah’s grip tightened in her hair, forcing her upright.
Nothing else mattered. Amerei’s eyes found Viktor’s.
Something inside him went still. He strained against the chains, power rising like a tide he could no longer hold.
“You’re not hers.”
His gaze burned into Amerei’s.
“You’re mine.”
Chains snapped.
The sound cracked like thunder.
Every gaze swung to him.
Viktor rose, fetters falling in shards at his feet.
His hands torched alive with blue fire, veins lit as if the storm itself coursed through him.
Mist flared behind his eyes.
No longer hidden. No longer tamed.
His voice split the chamber:
