“I see it—you and your twin, climbing the hanging oaks like little devils.”
Viktor’s eyes shot to Gabriel.
His voice cracked.
“Did Amerei tell you I had a twin?”
“No,” Juliet said softly. “Your mother did, before you were born.”
Viktor’s throat tightened.
“They’re both gone, my lady. Momma and Adamar.”
Juliet’s hands stilled. She laid them gently on his shoulders. His breath hitched, caught between grief and grace.
“My darling,” she whispered gently at his ear. “You never should have lost so much.”
Her touch steadied his chin.
“Your mother’s smile—Viktor, you have her eyes. And your brother… he was born first, yes? Named for your grandfather.”
Viktor’s voice dropped low.
“He beat me to the light by minutes. Never let me forget he was older.”
“Then I shan’t either,” she winked, tying off the braid.
He drew a long, slow breath. Juliet saw his mother’s face in his, and he could feel the weight of that truth. Her hands—hands that might once have felt him kick within his mother’s belly—smoothed his hair one last time.
She kissed his crown. “Off with you now. You’re ready.”
Viktor smiled faintly, watching her leave.
“Let’s go,” he said to Gabriel.
But Gabriel lifted a hand. “I have something for you.”
He slipped two chains into Viktor’s palm. Onyx-dark rings fell—sapphire and amber glinting in the firelight.
“You forged—” Viktor faltered, eyes wide.
Gabriel’s smile was quiet, proud.
“I set them on chains so you can wear them close. Until the world knows.”
The rings gleamed like sunlight shattered on sea. Viktor traced the larger band with his thumb, heart pounding.
“You’re a better friend than I deserve,” he said gruffly, meeting Gabriel’s eyes.
“Layaran, o valen.”
(Thank you, brother.)
Gabriel tipped his head toward the door.
“Best get you to the apothecary—before the princess comes to her senses.”
“Right.”
