And for his daughter, he could not yet decide which he would allow.
Chapter Forty-One
Braided in Silence
Her hands wove his hair, but it was the breath between them that bound tighter than any braid.
Viktor eased back into the wooden chair, a groan catching low in his throat as the bandages stretched across his chest. Amerei leaned over him, slipping an uncorked vial into his hand, her whisper a conspiratorial hush.
“Father passed this to Matteo last night. Hurry—before Misses Roland comes.”
“Bless you,” he murmured, grimacing as he downed it in one swallow. The liquor burned hot as forge-flame, but steadied him all the same.
Amerei whisked the vial away, hid it behind a vase, then returned to him. Her hands rose to his hair, fingers combingslow through the dark strands. His eyes shut on instinct, breath hitching at the rake of her nails against his scalp.
“You like it this way?” he asked, voice gone low.
“Your hair?” she teased, twirling a strand around her finger.
“Yes. I keep it long for the run, but I could cut it if—”
Her soft laugh broke against him.
“Viktor Seraphim. Even if you shaved it all off, you’d still undo me with a single look.”
His mouth curved faintly. “That so?”
“That so,” she whispered, brushing her lips across his temple before her fingers returned to the slow, soothing work. Her touch was a vow she didn’t yet know she’d made. When she finished the last braid, she gathered the strands at his nape.
“Does your mother or father come from Eilles?” she asked, sitting down across from him.
“My mother,” he said quietly, gaze dropping.
“I used to dream she went back there when she left us… but it’s the one place I’ve never been.”
The ache in his tone made her still. She only touched his shoulder, silent. When he blinked the shadow away, she offered a small smile—a gentle gift of light.
“Does your father still live in Westport?”
“He does,” Viktor said at once, warmth kindling in his voice. “Father and his old, wiry dog—we found him when Adamar and I were ten.” He shook his head. “I’ve no idea how that creature’s still alive. But Father swears he makes a better dockhand than I ever did. Still hobbles to the water every day.”
Amerei’s smile bloomed. “I should like to meet him someday.”
You will…Viktor’s mouth tugged, crooked.…at our wedding.
Misses Roland bustled in from the next room, eyes sharp with curiosity.
“Lady Zrynon, do tell—what made your father choose this one for you? Besides those blue eyes, of course.”
Viktor straightened.Lady Zrynon. She thinks me noble.
Amerei rested a hand on Viktor’s knee, her tone composed and silken.
“He descends from a long line of Eillish royals.”
“Ah?” Misses Roland brightened.
Do I now? Viktor’s glance slid sideways, lips twitching.
