He didn’t even look at Amerei.
Maybe he couldn’t. Not yet.
He brushed past her, out the door. His footsteps hammered the hall like war drums.
Amerei looked to Storne, but he was already nodding to Gabriel.
“Convince him to stay,” Storne commanded.
Not as a captain. Not as a soldier.
As the only one who might still reach Viktor.
“Yes, sir.”
Gabriel hurried out.
Amerei didn’t hesitate. She ran—barefoot, eyes burning.
“Gabriel,” she called.
But he didn’t stop.
Not until he reached their chamber door.
He clutched the knob, looked back at her. Knit his brow. Exhaled hard.
She didn’t know why—but she caught his hand.
And Gabriel didn’t let go.
“Viktor,” he called softly, the word carrying both plea and command, as he pushed open the door.
There.
Across the room.
High-Captain Viktor Seraphim.
Husband to the Queen of Casqadia.
Ruakite—Endowed.
Stripped of his mantle.
Tying on his scouting armor.
“Viktor,” Gabriel said again, louder this time.
Amerei clutched his hand tighter.
Viktor kicked off his boots. Forced on his runners. Yanked their binds tight across his feet.
“If I leave now, I’ll make Hythe’s Gap by dawn.”
“Viktor—”
“Halyon by first hour.”
