Chapter Five
Into Her Arms
Closer to the sun, closer to her.
The moon glowed with the proudness of one who had yesterday eclipsed the sun.
Viktor fixed his eyes on the dark horizon, steadying his breath against the tremor in his chest. The air tasted of ash and iron—remnants of the road behind.
Then he ran.
Blind into the night—every stride a tearing ache. His ribs burned like firebrands; pain surged through his legs until they numbed.
His body begged to collapse, but he only drove himself harder.
Memories blurred with each pounding step: Aerdania’s shores, his father’s porch, his brother’s laughter, the faces of his soldiers, the desert dog that had trailed him.
And through it all—her.
Amerei.
Shadows wavered at the edges of his sight.
He told himself it was only exhaustion—
until the ground began to shake beneath his feet.
A roan swept into view, mane flashing under moonlight.
And riding it—Amerei.
Her hair caught the silver light, her voice carrying his name.
“It’s Captain Seraphim!” she cried, wonder bright in her voice.
Laughter spilled after.
“He runs as fast a horse, Evander!”
Evander barked a sharp laugh, spurring the roan.
“Not like this one!”
Viktor forced the words out between gasps, each one tearing at his chest.
“Keep—going. Don’t—slow. Nearly—there.”
The gates of Sevrak loomed ahead, torches blazing.
Viktor watched as Amerei and Evander vanished beneath the arch, and only then did relief crack through him.
She was safe.
His pace faltered, slowing to a walk as Obsidian caught up behind him.
Trembling hands fumbled with his papers, though the guards waved him through regardless.
Inside, familiar eyes found him.
Gabriel.
The sight of him swam as Viktor’s knees buckled.
Gabriel caught him by the shoulders, voice rough with both relief and rebuke.
“Dask, Seraphim—always have to run yourself into the ground, don’t you.”
He huffed a low breath, shaking his head—
then Viktor collapsed fully against him.
“Storms… he’s going down.”
Gabriel turned to the guards, voice sharp but quiet.
“Get him on a horse. To my tent. Now.”
Soldiers obeyed at once, soon slinging Viktor across a mare. Gabriel walked alongside, a steady hand at his back, his expression grim.
“Easy, brother. I’ve got you.”
Inside the tent, he and a guard lowered Viktor to the bed.
Gabriel stripped off his pack, rolled him to free the canteen, then tossed the gear aside.
“Not a word of this,” he told the guard.
“Absolute discretion. Go.”
He cupped Viktor’s face, coaxing him back with a gentle tap.
“Come on. Wake up.”
A rustle at the door drew his head up.
“I said leave,” he growled.
Until he saw her.
Amerei stood there, golden in the torchlight.
His eyes widened.
He bent low over Viktor.
“Lady Zrynon—”
“Let me help you,” she pleaded, already on her knees.
Gabriel jerked his chin.
“You can’t be here with me alone.”
“I’m not,” she pressed, tugging at one of Viktor’s leather braces.
“As far as anyone knows, I’m in my father’s bathhouse behind the command ring.”
“Amerei—”
“He saved my life, Gabriel.”
He stared at her—mud streaked across her tunic, eyes burning with unguarded tears. For a moment he said nothing, then his jaw tightened and he moved aside.
“Keep his head lifted. I’ll get his cuirass off him.”
She leaned forward, slipping beneath Viktor’s weight to steady his head.
The laces tangled, refusing to give.
Gabriel cursed under his breath, drew Viktor’s knife, and sliced through until the leather breastplate fell aside.
Viktor shuddered, dragging in two shallow breaths.
“Don’t take your eyes from him,” Gabriel warned, setting the knife aside.
“If he stirs, sit him up—never flat. I’ll be back.”
He moved to the tent flap, pausing a moment before stepping into the dark.
Left alone, Amerei gathered Viktor’s head into her arms, fingers combing gently through sweat-damp hair.
Her gaze caught the faint ink of a raven’s wing beneath his heart, and her breath stilled—a mark so intimate, so hidden.
“Captain Seraphim,” she whispered, voice trembling as she bent close.
His head lolled against her palm.
“Viktor…”
His chest shuddered, breaths uneven, skin clammy beneath her touch.
She pressed her forehead to his temple, tears slipping free.
“Please, come back to me,” she breathed—startled by the realization she had never spoken such words to anyone before, least of all to a man.
Gabriel returned with basins, herbs, and towels.
“Your father’s sent for you,” he rasped. “And he’s not going to find you here.”
“Let me stay until he wakes,” she whispered, eyes never leaving Viktor.
Gabriel sighed, tossing a towel over his shoulder.
“Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him like this.”
He cracked herbs, bitter smoke curling.
Viktor twitched, eyes fluttering open.
Relief swept Amerei. Her breath caught as tears threatened again.
Gabriel pressed a cup of broth into her hand.
“Feed him. Slowly.”
She shifted closer, steadying Viktor against her as she touched the rim to his lips. His lashes fluttered, throat working as he swallowed.
Her gaze drifted again to the raven’s wing inked along his ribs. The sight rooted her—something in her chest answering the mark she didn’t yet understand.
While she coaxed him with sips of warm broth, Gabriel stripped away his weapons belt and daggers, stacking them aside. The tent filled with the quiet rhythm of her whispers urging Viktor on—his weight heavy in her arms, his mark burning itself into her memory.
“He’ll be well by morning,” Gabriel said, receiving the cup back.
“Please, Lady Zrynon… go now.”
Her hand lingered on Viktor’s brow, fingers brushing with unspoken devotion.
“Amerei—please.”
She laid Viktor back onto the cot, sweeping hair from his eyes before she rose.
She started for the door, but Gabriel caught her arm.
“Not that way.”
Their eyes met.
Gabriel inclined his head.
“Behind my armor stand—you’ll find a slit in the seams.”
Red crept into his ears.
“…you’re not the first woman I’ve let in here.”
Her scandalized laugh slipped through tears.
She turned back once more, smiling down at Viktor, her fingers brushing his hair in a silent promise.
Gabriel’s voice softened, the edge of a brother’s care in it.
“He’ll still be here come morning. Get some rest.”
Amerei slipped through the gap into darkness, carrying the warmth of Viktor’s presence with her.
Viktor’s strength flickered back by degrees until, with trembling hands, he lifted the cup of broth and drank on his own. Color returned faintly to his face, though shadows lingered beneath his eyes.
Over the rim of the cup his voice rasped, low and searching.
“Amerei was here?”
Gabriel laid a towel across the back of his neck, arms folding as he leaned against the post. A rueful laugh slipped out, half-choked with disbelief.
“You fly too close to the sun, Viktor.”
The cup quivered in Viktor’s grip, and Gabriel caught it before it spilled, setting it aside. He leaned back, running a hand through his sandy hair, voice hardening.
“Lady Zrynon. That is her name. For us, that is her name. Whatever happened in the desert—you’ll remember that.”
Viktor pushed himself upright, legs heavy as stone. Gabriel slid an arm under him, steadying him until he found balance.
Chin dipped, Viktor murmured, “So she belongs to Casqadia’s court?”
“You fool,” Gabriel muttered in Elvish, shaking his head.
He dug through a chest and tossed a tunic across the bed.
“She is the court.”
Before Viktor could argue, Gabriel smirked faintly.
“Wear that tonight. But first—a bath. Dask, Viktor. You reek of Irongate in summer drills.”
The thought of washing the dust and blood from his skin stirred Viktor forward.
Sevrak’s baths were supplied from the river across the mountain, and captains had their own fountains carved into the rock.
Gabriel half-carried him there, grumbling as he pulled off Viktor’s runners and frowned at the cracked skin and dried blood around his ankles.
He braced him against the wall, released the flow of water, and said quietly, “I’ll be just outside.”
Viktor closed his eyes as the stream coursed over him. His body was worn to breaking, his mind snared in threads of duty—but still, one thought rose above the rest.
I need to go home… but dask, if I could steal another moment with her…
When he finished, he found a towel and clothes Gabriel had shoved beneath the flap. They hung loose on his frame, cut for the taller man, but he welcomed the freedom from armor.
Gabriel gave a quiet snicker when he emerged, though he kept a steadying hand on Viktor’s arm as they returned to the tent.
Inside, Gabriel offered him his bed and unrolled a cot for himself.
As Viktor’s head sank to the pillow he whispered, “You’re a better friend than I deserve.”
Gabriel leaned forward and pinched out the lamp.
“You’ve carried me more times than I can count. And you’ll be glad to know—” he rolled onto his side with mock solemnity—“I’ve sworn off Halyon wine.”
Viktor’s laugh was little more than breath. Arms loose at his sides, he let his eyes drift shut, hovering at the edge of sleep.
“Viktor…” Gabriel’s voice reached through the dark.
Viktor lifted a hand faintly in acknowledgement.
“They say you ran as fast as their horse,” Gabriel murmured, almost in awe.
But Viktor chose silence, letting the rhythm of his breathing answer.
Gabriel sighed, his gaze lingering on the cuirass discarded earlier that night.
Whatever truths remained would have to wait until morning.
* * *
Exhaustion dragged Viktor into a dream where the veil between light and dark was worn thin.
A vast tree rose before him, its roots and branches mirroring each other, entwined as if sky and earth were one.
He pressed his hand to the bark, captured by the hushed cadence that stirred within it.
Whispers in an ancient tongue filled his ears.
A single word broke through—
soft as wind through leaves,
yet thunder in his blood.
“Aetherheart.”
The sound slipped away like a wave called back into the deep.
In silence, the tree released him.
And Viktor woke.