Gabriel crouched outside Viktor’s door, knife tip pressed to the wood, ear straining. The hush inside was unbearable—the muted rustle of sheets, a sigh that made his chest clench.
At last, silence stretched long enough that he dared believe they’d fallen asleep.
“Finally,” he said under his breath.
He slid the blade back into his belt and rose.
He’d taken one step when—
“Stand down, Captain Feindoran.”
The command landed like an axe.
Gabriel froze.
Storne stood at the crosspoint of the hall, half in shadow, arms loose at his sides but gaze sharp enough to cut.
A curse burned the back of Gabriel’s tongue. He forced it down, straightened, and stepped forward with a soldier’s obedience.
Storne crooked two fingers, motioning him into a shallow alcove carved into the stone. Gabriel obeyed, towering beside him, the shame of being caught raw in his chest.
Storne’s tone was quiet—deadly quiet.
“You think I don’t know what happens under my own roof? She left her room an hour ago.”
Gabriel threw out a hand, careless. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
Storne’s eyes narrowed.
Gabriel dropped his arm.
“Because I am not you,” Storne said. “And you are not me.”
He tipped his head to one side.
“Tell me—what truth do you hold that I don’t, Captain? What wisdom makes your hand steadier than mine?”
He let the silence sharpen before jerking his chin toward Viktor’s door.
“If Captain Seraphim is to survive what this realm will demand of him, he must have something to fight for. If that something is my daughter—storm help him—so be it.”
Gabriel’s fists curled tight. He leaned in, voice low and hoarse.
“You know the elves will never allow this. An Aerdanian soldier with a Casqadian princess? Vykenra will call it an insult.” He shook his head hard. “Casqadia can’t stand without Elváliev’s support. If you lose the Senate—”
“You’re right,” Storne cut in, gaze drifting down the corridor as though plotting unseen lines of battle. “Vykenra almost certainly has a suitor in mind for Amerei. Someone rich,powerful enough to sway the Senate. The crown prince may even put aside his wife.”
Gabriel stiffened. “Prince Xavien?”
His voice cracked louder than he meant. He lowered it fast.
“You’re arranging a marriage between Amerei and Prince Xavien?”
Storne gave a short, humorless laugh.
“Xavien has certainly expressed interest.”
Rage flared hot through Gabriel’s veins.
