“Enough,” he said, swinging into the saddle.
His gaze locked on Evander.
“Henceforth you ride as my lieutenant. We’ll bind it proper at Fyreglade.”
A jerk of his chin.
“Now, mount up.”
Evander blinked, stunned, then straightened, pride catching light in his eyes. Amerei saw it and smiled, a fleeting warmth before the column began to form and the road beckoned.
“Company, forward,” Storne commanded.
For the first time, Evander’s voice rang out—carrying the awe of belonging: “Forward, Commander!”
Viktor heard it, something stirring deep in his chest—a soldier’s memory of his first call to march. He caught Evander’s eye and gave a nod, a quiet brother’s oath between them.
Wind brushed through Amerei’s braid, sunlight glinting off Viktor’s bandages like a vow reborn.
And together, they rode into the morning.
Chapter Forty-Three
Almost Brothers
A fight in the dirt. A bond in the making.
The cottages of Bernewood leaned close to the cobblestone path, their thatched roofs spilling ivy down pale stone walls. A brook sang beside the lane, its waters slipping beneath footbridges where children dangled their feet. Smoke curled from chimneys, dust clouds drifted in the sun, and somewhere nearby came the soft hum of bees.
The whole village breathed in the hush of afternoon—until Storne’s voice cut through it.
“Evander. Gabriel.”
He turned toward a clearing at the edge of the trees.
“With me.”
Amerei glanced up, her hand steadying Viktor as he eased down from Ruby’s back.
“He needs more salve,” she told her father.
Storne grunted. “Then see to it.” He nodded toward the path. “There’s a herbalist in the village. Press him something stronger if you can.”
She nodded, guiding Viktor to the cobblestone.
When the path bent out of sight, her fingers brushed Viktor’s arm—then slid lower, twining with his. For a heartbeat, neither spoke—their silence its own vow amid the calm. Then she gave him a look all daring and daylight-thin courage, and together they turned toward the cottages.
Storne shook his head as he watched them go.
They’re terrible at this.
* * *
The clearing was nothing more than a patch of grass beneath the oaks, sunlight striping the ground through restless leaves. Gravel rasped beneath Storne’s heel as he drew a circle six feet wide with the point of his boot, then folded his arms across his chest.
“Lieutenant Tassen,” he called, waving Evander forward. “If you’ll bear the name, you’ll bear the weight.” His gaze flicked to Gabriel, then back to Evander. “Prove you can fight.”
Evander’s shoulders stiffened. He nodded once. “Yes, Commander.”
