The man wagged a gnarled finger at them as he went by.
“Messengers, are you? Then best mind your pace. Queen’s in a foul mood today.”
Viktor’s stomach clenched.
The rush of wind still sang in his blood, but the name alone was enough to sour it. He forced his face still, though his heart gave him away.
Gabriel’s eyes cut sidelong, catching it.
“Not just you,” he said low. “We’ll both have to face her.”
Viktor swallowed hard, voice rough.
“If I falter, it won’t be only me. All our necks are on the line.”
Gabriel caught his arm, pulling him to a halt. With a scowl and a flex of his hand, he sent fire arcing over both of them, flames washing their armor and cloaks in a brief, brilliant glow. The heat burned sharp, binding them in its blaze.
“Viktor…”
His voice was steady as steel.
“You’re not alone anymore.”
Chapter Eighteen
Beneath Her Gaze
Beneath Zeporah’s gaze, every word was a test, every silence a risk.
The roar of water rose to meet them before the gates even parted.
Castle Rhidian loomed from the cliffside, its walls carved of marble streaked with gold, gleaming through the mist. Cascades thundered past in twin curtains of white fire, plunging to the sea below—a most spectacular welcome home.
At the stables, Amerei swung down first. She moved quickly, tugging open a weathered chest in the corner—the kind every noble daughter knew to keep ready. From within she drew a plain skirt, hitching it over her riding clothes, then fastened a chain of bronze at her throat and slipped bracelets over her wrists. Small disguises, but in Rhidian’s halls, presentation was armor. She smoothed her braid once with steady fingers beforeshe turned, cloak falling about her like any courtier come to serve.
Only then did the guard step forward, hand braced on his spear, grin spreading wide.
“Well, if it isn’t Lord and Lady Zrynon. You’re home early.”
Evander groaned, rolling his eyes.
“You must stop saying it like that. You’ll stir up chatter.”
The man chuckled. “With the way you two bicker, you already sound wed.”
Amerei straightened her necklace, ignoring them both with practiced grace.
“Has my father gone in to the queen?”
“Aye,” the guard said, still smirking. “Arrived late last night. She’s waiting for you now, my lady.” He jabbed the spear toward Evander. “But not you.”
Evander’s jaw ticked as he shouldered past. Amerei caught his eye—just the briefest tilt of her head to ease the sting.
He led her through the inner court, the roar of the waterfalls fading into the hum of castle life—councilmen debating, steel clashing from the yard, silk hems whispering along marble floors.
At the arching doors of Zeporah’s wing, he paused, fists clenched tight.
“This is as far as they’ll let me.”
