Page 416 of A Vow of Blood


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“He will not be moved,” she said flatly. “Not today. Perhaps not for many days. His body cannot endure it.”

From the hall came a heavier tread.

Storne filled the doorway, his voice low but commanding.

“He can endure as much in a wagon as he can in this bed.”

Saecily rounded on him, braid snapping over her shoulder.

“You would cart him like spoils of war? He will break before even he arrives.”

Storne’s jaw set, eyes hard.

“He will break more if he is left behind.”

Saecily jerked her chin.

“You presume to know better than his healer?”

“You presume he is yours to keep.”

The words cut, sharp enough to silence even Gabriel’s tongue.

Storne moved past her, coming to stand at Viktor’s side. He leaned down, voice lowered so only Viktor could hear.

“Wait until your fever breaks. For my sake, son.”

Viktor’s lips curved—more grimace than smile, but enough to show he’d heard.

Behind them, Gabriel huffed softly.

“Well,” he muttered, too tired to smirk, “that settles who pulls rank, at least.”

* * *

The hours dragged, each one heavier than the last.

Viktor drifted in and out, sweat soaking through the bandages at his chest. Saecily returned again and again, pressing cloths to his skin, coaxing spoonfuls of broth between his lips when he could swallow. He murmured in his fever, Amerei’s name on his tongue, breath rasping shallow against Gabriel’s arm.

Gabriel never left.

He slouched in the chair, startling awake whenever Viktor stirred, eyes bloodshot, movements stiff from too long without rest. Each time Saecily reached for Viktor, Gabriel’s hand was there too, steadying his shoulder.

By afternoon, the heat eased.

Viktor’s skin cooled to clammy damp, his breathing thin but steady. Saecily straightened, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

“The fever’s broken. He’ll wake weaker, but he’ll wake.”

Storne was already calling orders into the corridor.

“Harness the wagon. Prepare for travel.”

The noise stirred Viktor.

His eyes opened to slits, lips cracking as he whispered, “Amerei.”

Gabriel bent close, catching it. “It’s time, Tory.”