When he let her go, she was breathless, a startled laugh slipping out with her exhale. His eyes lingered on her for one heartbeat longer—dark, smoldering—before he turned and strode after the others.
The air was sharp with woodsmoke as Storne pushed the gate wide, Gabriel storming past him into the yard. He guided Viktor to a crate against the fence, steadying him with a hand.
“Sit,” he said low. “Save your strength.”
Viktor obeyed with a groan. Evander slipped to his side, arms folded, watchful.
Gabriel paced the goat pen, jaw set like stone.
“Am I the only one who thinks we’ve failed to guard the virtue of our future queen?”
Storne’s gaze flicked, iron-quiet.
“Tread carefully, Captain,” he warned, tone edged with more than command. “Lest you lay unfounded charges againstmydaughter.”
Gabriel wheeled on him—
and for a fraction of a breath, his mouth tightened, as if he might stop himself.
He didn’t.
“Perhaps you’ve already decided where to send the bastard children of an Aerdanian.”
Viktor’s head snapped up, fury flashing through exhaustion.
“You do want a fight, don’t you?”
Storne stepped in front of him, hand firm at his back. “Save it.”
His eyes cut to Gabriel.
“Well? Out with it. Since you claim to know what happens behind closed doors.”
“Zeporah told me,” Gabriel spat, “in the Vykenraven.”
Storne barked a laugh, sharp as a whip.
“Told you what? That I can stand both in Fort Sevrak and in her bedchamber? That I betrayed my daughter to her usurper aunt?”
His voice cracked, heat spilling.
“Tell me, Captain—what other wisdom do you have on how I’ve failed her?”
Gabriel’s brows arched—no going back.
“You could’ve found her a husband by now.”
Storne laughed outright at that.
“Forgive me,” he postured, laying a hand on his heart.
“I’d just assumed that as she is equally sovereign and self, I might allow her to marry for love.”
Gabriel scoffed, gaze cutting away.
“And what would you know of that?”
The words hit their mark.
