Storne’s voice pressed in again, relentless.
“You carry the Endowment.”
The tent flap whispered.
He startled upright.
Amerei stepped from the shadows like something the fire itself had summoned. Dark cloak drawn, eyes luminous in the dim light.
“Come with me,” she whispered.
The words settled into him slowly.
Heat stirred beneath his ribs—unwelcome, unmistakable. He pushed to his feet without thinking, as if his body had already decided.
“Gabriel and Evander are already waiting,” she said.
A pause.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
A breath, softer still.
“We shouldn’t be alone.”
His jaw flexed, his exhale leaving him rough.
Slowly, he nodded.
She stepped closer, the edge of her hand brushing the canvas as if she owned the space.
“Go by the northern watch. The guards there know me. They’ll let you pass.”
And then she was gone, leaving the air warmer than fire.
For the first time in years, Viktor let himself want—something beyond survival.
Chapter Twelve
Stay
For a night, she was in his arms. And he was no longer his own.
Rain pattered steady against the canvas, running in silver threads along the ditches outside her tent.
Viktor slipped in and found Gabriel and Evander cross-legged on the rug, dice tumbling between them, voices low.
“…man was already gray when I was born,” Evander was saying. “I remember almost nothing of him.”
Gabriel flicked a die across the board.
“Mine wasn’t gray—just stubborn. Never spoke a word about the Bloodforge. Hid the truth of it like it might vanish if he didn’t name it.”
Viktor lowered beside them, resting an arm across his knee.
“Your father never talked about it at all?”
Gabriel gave a low, humorless laugh.
