A half-smile, sharpened at the edges.
“I won’t ask you to join me for supper.”
He came back slowly, lifting the robe so she could slide her arms through. His fingers moved carefully at her shoulders, setting the seams with precision.
“You want soldiers,” he went on, tying the sash with exacting care. “So I’ll take you to the only mind that can conjure them with a word.”
He rose, gathering the room back into order. She reached without thought and caught his wrist—warm skin, serpents shifting over tendon. His name left her like a tide receding. “Xavien…”
Memory broke against her ribs in waves.
Viktor—falling and rising on the cliff’s black spine.
Viktor—lit by dragon-breath in the Vykenraven.
Viktor—running through the redwoods to Aerdania.
Viktor—walking into tomorrow’s fire.
The ache of him tore at her chest, and still she was here, caged in Xavien’s chamber. The contrast hollowed her, shame burning that he should see her falter.
“Xavien,” she whispered again, as if her voice could wake fate itself. Her throat tightened—storms, she hated that he heard her fear.
“I want to watch the battle. Tomorrow. At the basin.”
He inclined his head—the gravity of promise.
“We will,” he said. “We’ll watch him hold the line.”
His shadow spilled over her, closing in like a tide, drawing her into him until there was no space left to retreat.
A vow gathered behind her eyes.
He felt it before she spoke.
“What if he does not survive?”
The world stilled.
She held her breath.
He saw it: the weariness of a soul, the flame that kept daring to rise.
He closed his hand over hers, lifted it against his chest, forcing her to feel the steady thunder there.
“Then mine,” he whispered, dark eyes pinning hers with dangerous beauty, “will be the last bed to ever hold you.”
Chapter Ninety-Nine
She Saw Him
His hands trembled with order. She steadied what a crown could never.
From the carriage steps Amerei watched Castle Draekenra rise from stone and shadow, its sapphire glass catching the last of the sun like a promise it would never keep. Below, vendors shuttered their stalls, the air steep with salt and cinnamon, voices falling to a hush as the prince’s crest passed. Xavien did not look at them.
Jasmine squeezed Amerei’s fingers beneath the robe, a pulse of warmth. Evander kept his eyes forward, shoulders squared between Amerei and the door.
The gates opened with the weight of a held breath. Inside, the stones looked older, the light dimmer. Banners of Draekenra hung like shadows edged in steel.
