She stood again. Laid a kiss upon his crown.
“Thank you, Masten,” she said, turning toward the door.
“I’ll be in the infirmary.”
* * *
By the time Amerei reached the stables, Gabriel was already saddling Ruby—Viktor was going to ride the rest of the way to Westport, whether he wanted to or not.
“I’ve got his boots.” Gabriel tossed them into a saddle bag. “And some clothes. His sword. He never runs with one.”
Amerei stood by, fumbling at the laces of her cuirass. Gentle fingers caught them from behind.
“You’re going with Viktor?”
Líri.
Juliet pulled the laces tight. Practiced. The wife and mother of soldiers.
“Líri,” Amerei said quietly, “his father is all he has.”
“Not true, darling.”
Juliet set her palms on Amerei’s shoulders.
“He has you.”
She smiled, nodded to Gabriel.
“And that very large elf.”
Amerei grinned, reaching for Obsidian’s reins.
“We’ll be back soon. I promise.”
She started to mount but hesitated.
Juliet’s expression faded.
“I won’t be here when you return,” she said. “Your father is preparing for war. I must go home.”
“Líri…”
Amerei wrapped her arms around her.
Juliet kissed her hair.
“There is much I wish to tell you. About sovereignty. And love.”
She pulled back, held Amerei’s gaze.
“Xavien won’t give up easily. It’s the way of the elves to persist. But think nothing of it, darling—Viktor won’t give up at all. And real love, my girl, is tempered with tempest. Forged in blood and flame. Never let your heart forget it.”
Amerei promised her, “I won’t.”
Juliet guided her to turn around, holding the reins as she mounted.
“Ride straight into Westport. Stop for nothing.”
