For a few strides he let himself lean into the dark, let his body ease as the mountain’s hush wrapped around them.
But the light ahead was already dying, and he knew what waited on the far side of the archway.
He raised a hand toward the sinking sun.
“While it lasts, these peaks shield us. The sky won’t see us here. But once night falls…”
His gaze hardened.
“The dragon owns the dark.”
Evander’s grip on the reins shifted, unease flickering across his face.
He glanced from the shadows to Viktor,
uncertain if this captain spoke truth—
or fed them fear.
Viktor started his horse forward—
then froze as steel flashed.
Evander had twisted in his saddle, knife drawn, the blade leveled across the space between them.
Amerei cried out, clawing at his wrist, but Evander wrenched free, the horse beneath them sidestepping at the sudden violence.
“Who sent you?” Evander’s voice cracked sharp.
His eyes burned into Viktor’s.
“Who are you really?”
He fought to steady his horse, the reins jerking as the animal shied. He dragged it back under control, knife still flashing in his grip.
“I’ve known Storne my whole life,” he snarled, voice thick with fury. “Not once has he spoken of dragons. But you know who does?”
He leaned across the space, pressing the blade hard into Viktor’s chest.
“Zeporah. Locked in her chambers with her priests and conjurers while the rest of us watched the eclipse in ignorant awe. She stirred something up—and you expect me to believe you aren’t hers?”
He leaned toward Amerei, muttering for her ear alone, “Zeporah sent him. He’ll set a trap for us by nightfall.”
For a heartbeat, the blade wavered.
Then fury won.
With a sudden lunge, Evander hurled himself at Viktor, toppling him from the saddle.
The men crashed to the ground.
Viktor grappled him easily, strength steady as stone.
Evander thrashed, shouting for all to hear.
“Call your dragon! Try it—try to strike her if you dare!”
The knife wrenched in his grip, but Viktor ripped it free and flung it aside.
