Leolis clung to his saddle, fear hollowing his eyes.
“To those who pledge fealty to Casqadia’s rightful queen,” Viktor cried, “come with me.”
He met Leolis’s gaze.
“You who follow this coward—” he kicked dirt at Leolis’s boots “—go back to Rhidian by the Whispering Way. Stay out of Elváliev.”
A tremor passed through the host. One by one, soldiers dismounted—blades reversed in surrender.
Leolis’s face twisted.
“She will come for you!” he shouted, voice fraying. “She will haunt your minds!”
He scrambled into his saddle, legs shaking.
“Amerei stands no chance,” he spat. “Zeporah will have the realm—or she will burn it all to ash.”
Viktor didn’t falter.
“Run,” he said, his eyes aflame. “Before there is nowhere left to go.”
Leolis wheeled his horse.
At the canyon’s mouth, Storne waited, arms wide in taunt. Leolis tore past him, fleeing.
Storne’s voice cracked over the soldiers.
“You are now subject to the Royal Army of Elváliev. Rend your mantles—cast them into fire. Surrender your arms!”
Steel fell in a clatter.
Viktor scanned the soldiers—shaken, hardened, but theirs now.
Moments later, Storne stepped to his side, clasped his shoulder hard.
“You’ve won us a hundred men and horses,” he said. “I don’t even know how to commend you.”
Viktor huffed. The words left him before he could leash them.
“Your daughter is mine. That’s enough.”
Blood roared in his ears.Dask, did I just say that?
Storne’s head snapped toward him—silence. Then a bark of rough laughter. “Careful, boy. I ought to lay you flat for that—if I weren’t so damn proud.”
Viktor’s jaw eased, the ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth.
Storne nodded to the soldiers.
“I’ll have Matteo escort the recruits to Fort Sevrak.”
He gave Viktor a hard, knowing look.
“But you—make haste to Fyreglade.”
His reins cracked sharp.
“Your bride is waiting.”
