Before Viktor could argue, Gabriel smirked faintly.
“Wear that tonight. But first—a bath. Dask, Viktor. You reek of Irongate in summer drills.”
The thought of washing the dust and blood from his skin stirred Viktor forward.
Sevrak’s baths were supplied from the river across the mountain, and captains had their own fountains carved into the rock.
Gabriel half-carried him there, grumbling as he pulled off Viktor’s runners and frowned at the cracked skin and dried blood around his ankles.
He braced him against the wall, released the flow of water, and said quietly, “I’ll be just outside.”
Viktor closed his eyes as the stream coursed over him. His body was worn to breaking, his mind snared in threads of duty—but still, one thought rose above the rest.
I need to go home… but dask, if I could steal another moment with her…
When he finished, he found a towel and clothes Gabriel had shoved beneath the flap. They hung loose on his frame, cut for the taller man, but he welcomed the freedom from armor.
Gabriel gave a quiet snicker when he emerged, though he kept a steadying hand on Viktor’s arm as they returned to the tent.
Inside, Gabriel offered him his bed and unrolled a cot for himself.
As Viktor’s head sank to the pillow he whispered, “You’re a better friend than I deserve.”
Gabriel leaned forward and pinched out the lamp.
“You’ve carried me more times than I can count. And you’ll be glad to know—” he rolled onto his side with mock solemnity—“I’ve sworn off Halyon wine.”
Viktor’s laugh was little more than breath. Arms loose at his sides, he let his eyes drift shut, hovering at the edge of sleep.
“Viktor…” Gabriel’s voice reached through the dark.
Viktor lifted a hand faintly in acknowledgement.
“They say you ran as fast as their horse,” Gabriel murmured, almost in awe.
But Viktor chose silence, letting the rhythm of his breathing answer.
Gabriel sighed, his gaze lingering on the cuirass discarded earlier that night.
Whatever truths remained would have to wait until morning.
* * *
Exhaustion dragged Viktor into a dream where the veil between light and dark was worn thin.
A vast tree rose before him, its roots and branches mirroring each other, entwined as if sky and earth were one.
He pressed his hand to the bark, captured by the hushed cadence that stirred within it.
Whispers in an ancient tongue filled his ears.
A single word broke through—
soft as wind through leaves,
yet thunder in his blood.
“Aetherheart.”
