“Let Father frown if he wants—you’re his equal now.”
Her hand slid from his brow to his jaw, guiding his gaze back to hers in the mirror.
“And I say you keep it.”
She then turned and lifted the new mantle, settling it across his shoulders, the silver clasp catching in the morning light. She smoothed the fabric down over his uniform, fingers lingering at his chest before sliding up to his cheek, cupping his face.
“It should be different,” she said. “We should walk into Vykenra together—queen and consort.”
His jaw tightened, eyes flicking aside.
“Instead I’ll stand at your back as your commander.”
Her thumb brushed across the scar at his brow.
“For now. They’ll see us as they must. But we will know what’s true.”
For a moment, neither moved. He only let her hold him. Then she drew in a slow breath, smoothing the mantle flat once more.
“All the same, you’ll need to be steady on your feet today. We ride for Vykenra—to face Xavien’s court. To demand ships. To show them Casqadia rises again.”
Viktor’s eyes darkened, his voice roughened by something heavier than pain.
“And to tell them what Azrikel has shown me.”
The words fell between them like a blade neither could yet sheath.
At last Amerei stepped back, her hand slipping from his cheek. She crossed to the door, skirts whispering, casting one last glance at him before slipping out to be dressed.
Jasmine met her in the next chamber, arms already full of red silk and silver-threaded braid. Together they worked quickly, fastening clasps, smoothing folds, weaving Amerei’s golden hair into a crown.
When it was done, Amerei caught her reflection in the burnished mirror. The girl who had once hidden in shadow was gone—what looked back at her was sovereign. Her pulse thrummed steady, her spine unbending.
She drew a breath, lifted her chin, and turned toward the opposite hall.
Her father’s chamber waited.
Storne’s study smelled faintly of leather and ash, the weight of war still clinging to the walls. He stood before the hearth, his cloak drawn close, while Gabriel sorted through scrolls at the table. His new insignia gleamed at his shoulder, a mark of his rise since the war.
Amerei lingered in the doorway a moment, watching them.
When Gabriel turned, she smiled softly. “High-Captain.”
He flushed faintly, dipping his head. “My queen.”
She stepped into the chamber, her gaze shifting to her father.
“Will Saecily be joining us in Vykenra?”
Storne’s brow furrowed. “Does Viktor require her help?”
“No,” Amerei said, her tone light but certain. “But you require her company.”
Silence fell sharp.
Gabriel froze, scroll half-rolled in his hands. Storne’s jaw flexed, his eyes locking on Amerei’s—a challenge.
Amerei tilted her head.
