While she coaxed him with sips of warm broth, Gabriel stripped away his weapons belt and daggers, stacking them aside. The tent filled with the quiet rhythm of her whispers urging Viktor on—his weight heavy in her arms, his mark burning itself into her memory.
“He’ll be well by morning,” Gabriel said, receiving the cup back.
“Please, Lady Zrynon… go now.”
Her hand lingered on Viktor’s brow, fingers brushing with unspoken devotion.
“Amerei—please.”
She laid Viktor back onto the cot, sweeping hair from his eyes before she rose.
She started for the door, but Gabriel caught her arm.
“Not that way.”
Their eyes met.
Gabriel inclined his head.
“Behind my armor stand—you’ll find a slit in the seams.”
Red crept into his ears.
“…you’re not the first woman I’ve let in here.”
Her scandalized laugh slipped through tears.
She turned back once more, smiling down at Viktor, her fingers brushing his hair in a silent promise.
Gabriel’s voice softened, the edge of a brother’s care in it.
“He’ll still be here come morning. Get some rest.”
Amerei slipped through the gap into darkness, carrying the warmth of Viktor’s presence with her.
Viktor’s strength flickered back by degrees until, with trembling hands, he lifted the cup of broth and drank on his own. Color returned faintly to his face, though shadows lingered beneath his eyes.
Over the rim of the cup his voice rasped, low and searching.
“Amerei was here?”
Gabriel laid a towel across the back of his neck, arms folding as he leaned against the post. A rueful laugh slipped out, half-choked with disbelief.
“You fly too close to the sun, Viktor.”
The cup quivered in Viktor’s grip, and Gabriel caught it before it spilled, setting it aside. He leaned back, running a hand through his sandy hair, voice hardening.
“Lady Zrynon. That is her name. For us, that is her name. Whatever happened in the desert—you’ll remember that.”
Viktor pushed himself upright, legs heavy as stone. Gabriel slid an arm under him, steadying him until he found balance.
Chin dipped, Viktor murmured, “So she belongs to Casqadia’s court?”
“You fool,”Gabriel muttered in Elvish, shaking his head.
He dug through a chest and tossed a tunic across the bed.
“She is the court.”
