“I love you, Amerei,” he whispered against her hair.
Her lips parted, words breaking past a sob.
“I love you,” she gasped, tears hot on her cheeks. “Stars, Tory, I love you.”
He crushed her close, one hand at her nape, the other locked at her back, holding her as if he could stop the tremor in her bones.
For a breath he let her cling, let her break. Then his mouth bent to her ear, voice iron.
“I’m coming for you. In Amethyst.”
Brow pressed, breath shared.
“I’ll know you.”
“You’ll know me.”
Another horn.
Footsteps outside.
He straightened her cloak, checked the hidden knife.
One last kiss—
they turned toward the light.
“It’s time.”
Canvas flapped like sails in a hardening wind as the camp braced for ceremony.
Viktor offered his arm. Amerei took it without looking away from the gate.
“Black pavilion,” he said low. “Storne will receive him there.”
They crossed the aisle between rows of spears and stacked shields, sentries stiffening as the new mantle passed. Jasmine and Evander followed at a distance. Gabriel flanked like a shadow with a heartbeat.
At the black-dyed pavilion, its edges stitched in Vykenran silver, two Kryonite guards pulled the flaps wide. One was the red-haired youth from last night.
Viktor’s mouth twitched—the barest smirk.You again.
Inside, a long carpet ran like a river to the far table. Maps waited under a polished stone. Storne’s aides lingered at the edges, quills stilled.
Viktor paused with Amerei at the threshold, voice pitched for her alone.
“Once we step forward, we don’t stop.”
He was all command, but his hand pressed over hers with the smallest weight.
She angled him a glance. “Ready, Commander.”
He guided her down the carpet. No rush to betray fear, no hesitation to betray doubt.
Outside, hooves rang on stone. Riders settled.
Storne stood square behind the table, cloak thrown back, face carved in granite.
“My queen,” he said, steady.
