She kissed his smooth, damp cheek. “Good thing I outrank him.”
They were both dry now, dressed in black from boots to collar. Viktor grazed the silver clasps lining his uniform, the words dragging out like a weight he couldn't shrug.
“Into Windmere as a soldier of Elváliev.”
“Tory…” Amerei laced her hand in his. “You’re entering as the only hope they have.”
His Endowed power stirred, stealing her breath before fading. Her grin curved as she corrected him. “Ask.”
He only shrugged, a crooked smile pulling at his mouth as he followed her out.
The porch boards creaked as dawn bled into the sky, the air sharp with cedar and salt. Issachar leaned against the railing, cane in one hand, a stone in the other—pale marble veined with gray, its leather cord worn smooth by years of touch.
“It was forged by the sea on Eilles,” he said to Viktor, voice like the tide against rock. “Your mother wears the other.”
Viktor’s jaw tightened. “Father, I can’t—”
“You must.”
Issachar slipped it over his neck himself. The stone lay cold at his collarbone, heavy as memory.
“Tuck it beneath your cuirass. Your mother believed it would keep you from drowning. I believe it will keep you from being taken at all.”
For a long moment Viktor only stared at it, the cold weight against his chest sinking deep. His throat worked, words dragging from him at last.
“I’ll guard it,” he promised, the sound rough and raw.
Issachar kissed his son’s crown, gaze drifting to the horizon.
“Your mother was... too precious for a man of the sea. What little rest I gave her beyond the mountains, I pray was enough.” His hand cupped Viktor’s face. “My heart grew strong in her absence. But you—you need her presence now.”
Viktor’s eyes lingered on him, drinking in every detail as if to etch it into memory—the cropped silver hair, the short beard touched with gray, the weathered hands gripping his cane, the lines carved deep into his face. He swallowed hard, forcing the image to stay.
Then Issachar turned to Gabriel.
“And you, my boy—I expect you to bring your own wife home next time you cross my threshold.”
Gabriel grinned but bowed his head. “Aye, sir.”
Lastly, Issachar faced Amerei, his gaze gentling as he touched her face, and she smiled up at him.
“You’re far too beautiful for Tory. May he never forget it.”
He kissed her cheek.
“Keep him honest.”
She laughed softly, bowing her head. “I will.”
He lingered, his gaze sweeping over each of them, eyes distant yet full. At last his cane tapped the floor.
“Then go," he said. "Bring them all home.”
Viktor clasped his father’s arm, the stone’s weight like an oath across his chest, then led Amerei into the waking day.
The morning air cut cool, gull cries breaking overhead, cobblestones still glistening with tide.
A girl darted from a doorway.
