Amerei stepped into it on Xavien’s arm, her hand resting in the crook of his elbow. For a fleeting instant she felt the weight of every gaze upon them—the courtiers, the guards, Evander with his fists tight at his sides, uncertain what it meant to see Xavien walk beside her as king.
The air outside pressed heavy with expectation. On the steps, she lifted her chin, masking the tremor in her chest.
Below, the caravan drew to a halt.
One rider dismounted and strode forward alone, cloak shifting in the dusk breeze.
Her father.
Commander Storne mounted the first step, his eyes locked to hers. He looked older than she remembered, shoulders bowed beneath the weight of war, of truths still unspoken.
Her fingers tightened on Xavien’s sleeve. She braced herself for it—the words that would shatter her, the vow she would make never to leave Amethyst again.
But then the guards stirred.
A ripple moved through their ranks, soft, disbelieving.
Amerei turned—just as Gabriel appeared at the side of a wagon, half-carrying, half-holding upright the man who leaned against him.
Her heart seized.
“Viktor.”
He moved like a specter torn from smoke. Ribs bound in blood-stained bandages, one arm splinted, his left eye hidden beneath a strip of cloth. Every step shook through him, the ruin of war carved deep into his body.
And still he stood.
No man should have survived what he endured. No man so broken should have found his feet again. And yet here he was—alive, each faltering step bearing the weight of a vow fulfilled.
Gasps turned to murmurs, disbelief spilling outward like fire across dry fields. Even Xavien stiffened beside her, his face cut sharp with something she could not name.
Her breath broke.
Her hand slipped from Xavien’s arm.
For one impossible heartbeat she stood frozen.
And then—
She ran.
She tore down the marble steps, skirts tangling, hair flying, his name breaking from her throat like a sob.
“Viktor!”
His head lifted at the sound, his ruined gaze finding hers.
“Amerei.”
The world fell away.
She collided with him so hard Gabriel staggered back. Viktor caught her with what strength he had left, clutching her as though he would never let go. She buried her face in his neck, tears streaming hot, sobs breaking loose.
“I thought you were dead,” she gasped against his skin. “I thought I lost you.”
His forehead pressed to hers, his breath ragged.
“I did die,” he whispered, words trembling against her lips. “And I came back.”
