“Unbeknownst to the royal house,” Viktor shot back, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice.
Gabriel winced.
“Dask, when you put it like that it sounds like a coup.”
Viktor’s jaw tightened.
“What else would you call it?”
Gabriel jogged a step ahead, then slowed, his eyes flicking sidelong.
“Casqadia’s already teetering on the edge. Tyra’s bleeding them dry with tariffs while the queen plays blind. Worse, she’s lost exclusivity on her richest exports. Tyra built their own routes east. Casqadia can’t compete.”
Viktor glanced at him, suspicion sharp.
“Since when do you sound like a councilman?”
Gabriel shrugged.
“Since I learned not every battle’s fought with steel.”
Viktor bit his lip.
“You’ve been writing letters.”
Gabriel’s mouth twisted, a grin threatening.
“Maybe.”
“Who is she?” Viktor pressed, part smirk, part accusation.
Gabriel groaned. “Feck. Leave it.”
Viktor’s grin only grew.
“She’s well-bred. Intelligent. Beautiful. Don’t deny it.”
Gabriel ran a hand over his face like a man cornered.
“If I was tasked with sending reports to certain allies in the castle… then maybe I hit it off with one. And maybe she’s the most gorgeous human I’ve ever seen.”
Viktor huffed a laugh, shaking his head.
“You’re a scout now. Something about flying too close to the sun?”
Their laughter faded with their stride, boots drumming the hard-packed road. Silence stretched, edged with unspoken weight.
Viktor finally asked, “Why did you defect to Sevrak? Aren’t you worried what that will mean for your rank in the Royal Army?”
Gabriel’s grin thinned, the mischief bleeding from his face.
“I followed Storne.”
“That simple?”
“That simple.
Gabriel’s jaw worked as if weighing the words.
