Cups clinked. Wine spilled.
Time slipped by, the storm settling into steady rhythm.
Evander slumped sideways on the rug, already lost to sleep. Gabriel soon followed, sprawled with his arm across the board.
Amerei leaned back against her cot, then bent to blow out the candle.
Viktor rose, every muscle taut with the intent to leave—
knowing damned well that if she asked him not to, he wouldn’t.
Darkness fell—soft and secret—wrapping them in silence.
Her hand caught his arm.
A whisper—barely breath:
“Stay.”
His heart jolted hard enough to hurt. The word stole the strength from his knees. He sank beside her, pulse hammering.
She should have sent him away. A princess did not beg a soldier to stay—but her hand refused to let go.
She shifted, tentative, the linen rustling softly beneath them, then let her head rest against his chest.
He froze—terrified that even the rise and fall of his breath might break the spell.
Her fingers curled into the collar of his tunic. The faint scent of rain lingered in her hair. The world narrowed to that single weight, that fragile trust.
His arm hovered before surrendering, sliding around her shoulders—a touch light as a vow. The satin of her robe was cool beneath his palm, warming slowly as she settled closer.
Neither of them moved.
Neither dared.
Tomorrow she would be a princess again, and he—only a soldier.
For tonight, she was in his arms.
Her hair brushed his jaw as she breathed, steady and unguarded.
Viktor closed his eyes, committing the feel of her to memory as if it might be taken from him at dawn.
His lips trembled, reckless with longing.
The words slipped into the dark, almost soundless—too soft for her to hear:
“I’m in love. I’m in love with the Princess of Casqadia.”
Chapter Thirteen
All That He Would Risk
Every step toward her carried him farther from his rank—yet closer to his destiny.
Viktor stirred awake to pale light filtering through canvas, the hush of rain still soft against the earth. Amerei was gone from his side—her warmth, her perfume still lingering on the cot.
He heard the faint rustle of her movements behind the curtain, the whisper of cloth as she readied herself for Rhidian. Gabriel and Evander lay sprawled in wine-sodden sleep, the scent of it heavy in the tent.
