Evander looked up suddenly, eyes flashing toward Storne. The commander stilled, acknowledging him with the barest glance—then fixed his attention back on Gabriel.
Viktor turned his face, unable to even looked at his friend.
Gabriel shifted, caught in Storne’s stare.
Only then did the commander raise his hand, stepping forward. His voice roughened to gravel.
“Do you know what it is to bury your wife? The girl you loved before you’d even grown into a man? To hold your daughter at four years old, with fever stealing her mother before your eyes?”
He stilled—barely held back.
“Have you known exile, Captain Feindoran? To wake one day as consort to a queen, and the next cast out by her sister—every friend turned against you, your halls filled with strangers who don’t even speak your tongue?”
The yard went silent.
Storne’s voice dropped, gutted.
“Loneliness will tear a man to pieces, Captain. Until even the hand ofshe who held your whole lifeoffers you relief. Maybe you wouldn’t have given in. Maybe you’d have been stronger.” His mouth twisted. “But I wasn’t.”
Gabriel’s glare didn’t soften. “So it’s true, then?”
Storne spread his arms, a bitter surrender.
“Yes, Captain Feindoran. It’s true. I bedded the sorceress herself. I, who buried Cassandra when I was the same age you are now. I, who sought in her shadow and in every other shadow the relief no coin, no crown, no army could give me. So shout it loud, Captain. Tell the world. You finally have your answer.”
The silence cut deep. Even Gabriel’s anger faltered. Storne turned away, hands clawing through his hair—
He froze.
“Amerei…” Evander’s voice, soft from the stables.
She came quietly through the door, boots whispering over the dirt, golden hair braided back against the hood of her riding leathers. She turned, looking once over her shoulder, and knelt at Viktor’s side.
“Matteo is ready for you,” she whispered, her hand light against his knee.
With Evander’s help, she braced him to stand, murmuring something soft against his ear before she turned. Her gaze found her father’s. Unflinching. Unmoved.
“Amerei…” Storne’s voice dimmed.
“You weren’t meant to hear. Not like this.”
Amerei stilled, eyes shimmering with all the years between them.
For a breath, disbelief crossed her face—and beneath it, the ache of everything he had carried alone.
She braced herself—
then she closed the space and threw her arms around him, pressing her cheek hard against his shoulder. The force of it staggered him.
“All that you endured,” she whispered, breaking. “You never told me…”
His breath caught, rough. “Endured? Did you not hear what I confessed?”
“I heard.” She held him tighter, fierce as a vow. “And I know what was grief, and what was weakness.”
Her voice softened, searching his.
“But tell me, Father—have I any cause to fear Zeporah’s shadow over you now?”
