“Tell us,” he chirped, “where are the most beautiful women to be found?”
Heat surged up Viktor’s neck. His tongue caught, frozen, with Amerei’s nearness burning beside him.
Gabriel smirked, leaning back.
“Come now. Settle it for us—are human women truly superior to she-elves?”
Viktor nearly choked on air.
Amerei’s eyes sparkled, lips curving at his torment.
Gabriel rolled his eyes, snatched up a hunk of bread, and tossed it at Viktor’s chest.
“Don’t bother. He only cares how well she cooks. Have you seen him? He never stops eating.”
Evander crowed. “He runs like a horse, Gabriel.”
“And he eats like one,” Gabriel finished, grinning wide.
Viktor flicked the bread back at him, deadpan.
“That’s rich, coming from an elf the size of a cave troll.”
Amerei laughed outright then—soft and unguarded.
Viktor’s chest ached, half agony, half wonder.
Dask, if only she knew what that sound does to me. I’d run myself to ash just to hear it again.
Lightning cracked across the canvas, sharp enough to rattle the dice.
Evander pushed to his feet, peering out at the storm before catching sight of a patrol trudging in through the rain. He sank back down and reached for the wine.
Gabriel leaned close, voice stealth as shadow.
“Do you love her?”
Evander nearly choked, sloshing his cup. Color burned his face as he glanced once toward Amerei.
“More than she’ll ever know,” he said quietly.
Then, braver:
“And that’s the way of it.”
Gabriel lifted his cup in a toast, grin quick and merciless.
Amerei looked up from the map, eyes curious.
“What are we toasting?”
Evander went rigid.
But Gabriel answered smoothly, cup raised high.
“To we who were mere mortals when we woke this morning.”
The toast rang soft against the rain.
