And seized.
Eyes locked on hers, he called to his guards without turning away.
“Send the Ruakite to me in the garden. I will speak with him. Alone.”
Viktor—
Chapter Seventy-Three
A Realm on Fire
The fire would not wait for thrones to decide.
Viktor walked beneath the banner of House Draekenra—a silver snake with a sword in its mouth, the hilt wrapped in twisted vines.
In the center of Amethyst was a quiet courtyard with large windows cut into the stone, paned with leaded glass. There stood a fig tree, buds swelling on the stems.
Xavien stood beside it, bending a branch.
“Sent to me from Eilles,” he said to Viktor, his thumb brushing a waxy leaf. “Its roots crave the dark earth of the Midnight Isle… yet somehow on this rock, it thrives.”
The branch snapped when he released it.
“You are Eillish, yes.”
He met Viktor’s gaze.
“But you are no son of Elváliev.”
The air shifted.
Cold.
Heavy.
Viktor moved closer, shoulder to shoulder.
“I am Aerdanian, my lord.”
The words carried iron.
Xavien smiled darkly, angling his chin so he could look down.
Viktor didn’t move.
Let him try.
“You have done well for yourself, High-Captain…”
Xavien’s voice dropped low.
“Amerei tempts even me… and I’ve had the finest of Gearíya for years.”
Heat licked Viktor’s spine, but his jaw stayed locked.
Say her name again, and I’ll bleed you where you stand—
Xavien circled him.
