Gabriel laughed dryly. “So I’m to be a scout.”
“You will be,” Storne said, the curve of his mouth betraying him. “If we can find armor in your size.”
Amerei’s smile broke against her palm. Gabriel only shook his head.
Finally, Storne’s gaze cut back to Viktor.
“Entreat the queen as if you never came here. Report what you saw in Oustinon. Tell her everything.”
He tugged once on the reins.
“And pray she listens to reason.”
Without another word, he turned his horse and rode from the ridge—leaving silence in his wake.
Chapter Eleven
I Don’t Want to Be Alone
He had ached for home—until her whisper gave him one.
The echo of fire still lingered behind his ribs, faint as an ember that refused to die.
Morning held its breath on the road back to camp, pale light spilling across the valley’s rim. The air carried the damp sweetness of late spring, yet the quiet between them lingered—heavy with all that could not be spoken.
Gabriel eased his horse alongside Viktor.
“Your silence worries me,” he said, voice pitched low. “For a moment back there, I thought Storne had killed you.”
Viktor didn’t look over.
“I survived.”
That was all.
The hush returned—
until Amerei urged her stallion closer.
Her horse came even with his, and a faint scent of wild lavender and leather drifted between them as her cloak brushed his stirrup. Gabriel reined back with a faint smirk, ceding the space between them.
“You must have been terrified,” Amerei said softly, her gaze steady on Viktor. “Falling from that cliff…”
Viktor’s answer was clipped, soldierly.
“It was no worse than Ronan’s Bluff back home.”
Then he glimpsed her and the edge softened.
“I used to sneak out of Windmere to jump it.”
Her eyes widened.
“You did that willingly?”
“It has its dangers,” he allowed, a flicker of dry humor in his tone.
“Lock your ankles. Arms straight at your sides. That’s the trick.”
