“Welcome to Fyreglade,” she said.
And for a heartbeat her eyes were bright again.
Storne’s voice carried from the landing.
“Seraphim—take the glideway. Evander will show you how. The infirmary waits below, healer standing ready.”
“Glideway?” Viktor echoed, blinking.
Amerei’s lips curved, amusement softening her face. “You’ll see.”
Evander was already at the emerald doors, grumbling about the glideway’s temper as he worked the handles.
Amerei caught Viktor’s arm, dragging him back into the shadow of an arch.
“Do you…want me to come with you?” she asked.
Dask, he almost said the truth. Instead, his mouth curved wry.
“If they lay me out on wood again, I’m walking back to Westport.”
She grinned, ready with some quip—but before she could speak, he pulled her in. The kiss was quick, fierce—too much need pressed into too little time. When he drew back, her breath stuttered, pulse wild.
“Go upstairs and rest,” he whispered. “I’ll find you in the morning.”
She nodded, easing back into the light.
Evander swung the glideway doors wide. “Inside, Seraphim.”
Viktor paused only long enough to look back at Amerei. Her fingers hovered at her lips, eyes shining with everything she hadn’t said.
He exhaled—steady, controlled—and stepped into the emerald glow.
The doors swung shut behind him.
Amerei’s hand stayed at her mouth long after the sound echoed away, her lips aching with the ghost of his kiss.
Beside her, Evander shifted, then touched her elbow, guiding her toward the staircase.
“He loves you,” he said softly—more confession than tease.
“And I think you love him, too.”
Her head whipped toward him—
fear flaring sharp and immediate.
“Don’t you dare tell Father.”
“I won’t.”
His mouth quirked.
“But hide that smile, Ami—or I won’t need to.”
She darted ahead, skirts flashing as she climbed.
“You’re insufferable.”
