“Keep them close to the barrels,” Viktor said, eyes sweeping the dark beyond the palisade. “I want them where I can point and not speak.”
A runner ghosted past, nearly colliding with Evander as he stepped out of Storne’s tent.
“Lieutenant Tassen,” Viktor called without breaking stride.
Evander hurried to fall in line.
“Report to my quarters. Wait for the queen.”
Evander bowed, turning sharply.“She comes now.”
Viktor halted at the door of Storne’s tent, gaze finding her without effort. She’d dressed in a simple gown, cloak trailing the ground.
“What did I say about walking out here alone?”
His thought brushed her with a flick of fire, gentle and sharp all at once.
“Reprimand me,”she teased, chin lifted.“I dare you.”
A motion at the far edge of camp pulled her gaze—a line of servants slipping in without banner or fuss. Jasmine broke from them first, hood falling back.
She didn’t bow.
She ran.
They collided like sisters trying not to cry.
Jasmine’s tight curls bounced against Amerei’s shoulders, amber-brown skin lit by the torches, eyes bright and assessing as ever.
“That braid’s a war crime,” Jasmine muttered against her hair.
“You shouldn’t have come through the redwoods in the dark,” Amerei whispered, relief and joy knotting into something that left her dizzy.
“I didn’t,” Jasmine grinned, breathless.
“I flew through them on prayer and profanity. Quartermaster’s here—your dresses, signet chest, and the good hair oil you like. Captain Feindoran—”
“Jasmine,” Gabriel cut in, almost formal until he wasn’t. He took her hand, then both of them, and forgot how to speak for one baffled heartbeat. “Welcome to Sevrak.”
“Don’t make me regret it,” she quipped, trying to look anywhere but his mouth.
A horn from the outer line shattered the dawn—one long, low note that rolled across the camp like thunder caught in brass.
Not alarm.
Announcement.
Conversations snapped shut. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Viktor’s head turned, eyes narrowing toward the ridge.
“Report,” he called, voice cutting through the hush as a runner knifed through the ranks.
“Party inbound,” the boy panted. “White banner. From the east.”
White banners meant talk, but no parley had been set. Gabriel’s glance at Viktor held the question unsaid.
Together, Viktor and Amerei looked toward the ridge where fog clung like smoke.
