Chapter Thirty
A Kiss in Shadow
It was not the vow, not the fire, only a shadow of both—and still it burned.
Castle Rhidian did not greet them with order or majesty.
The corridor was a riot of silk and perfume. Elves darted between doorways, half-dressed and laughing, their chambers gaudy extensions of themselves. Music spilled from one room, arguments from another—the whole hall thrumming like a hive. Even the air felt drunk—sweet with incense, heavy with sin.
Gabriel swept an arm at the chaos and nudged Viktor with his elbow.
“After you…”
Viktor rolled his eyes and stepped forward—and the noise shifted.
Whispers slashed through the laughter, quick and cutting.
“Who is that tall elf?”
“He must be a giant—”
“A human!”
“Do you think he’s married?”
Viktor pressed on until the shimmer of a plaque caught his eye: Emerald Room. He cut between two jeweled courtiers, caught the knob, and pushed through.
Gabriel slammed the door after them and leaned against it with a theatrical groan.
“She-elves,” he muttered. “Absolutely ravenous.”
Viktor smirked.
“Is she here?”
Gabriel peeled himself from the door, drifting to a gilded chest in the corner.
“Jasmine is human. A true lady of the court.”
He flipped the lid and tugged out a bundle of fabric.
“Our costumes…”
Viktor lifted a black shirt cut like the ghost of a cuirass, sides slashed open. He threaded his fingers through the gaps, scoffing.
“Where’s the rest of it?”
A knock jolted the room.
Viktor and Gabriel exchanged a wary glance.
“I’ll get it…” Gabriel clutched the ridiculous garment to his chest and cracked the door.
A she-elf in maroon silks bowed low.
“The queen bids me prepare you. Your face and hair will be adorned in the custom of the ancients. Shall I assist you with your costumes as well?”
Gabriel’s fingers crept up the doorframe like he might climb out of it.
“We’ll… handle that part.”
Another bow, another promise to return.
The latch clicked.
Gabriel groaned.
“We have to get out of here…”
“Not without Amerei.”
Viktor tugged the black leathers into place—sharp cut, meant for display more than battle. He reached for a slim dagger on the chest, slid it into his waistband.
Gabriel gawked. “How in the storm did you get that past the guards?”
Viktor only shrugged. “I don’t go anywhere without it.”
Gabriel grumbled something about stubborn Aerdanians—then another knock broke through the room. He straightened, flustered, tugging at his collar like he’d been caught guilty of something.
Viktor’s gaze flicked toward the door. Gabriel cracked it open.
A cloaked figure waited, hood drawn low.
A whisper slipped through.
“Captain Seraphim.”
Amerei.
Viktor eased the door from Gabriel’s hand, leaning close as she slipped inside.
Beneath the shadow of her hood, her voice trembled.
“My father and his men are hidden in the cherry orchard outside the castle walls. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes.”
His eyes swept past her hood, measuring the elves drifting by in the corridor.
Her gaze caught on the dagger at his waist, half-buried in black leather, the raven-wing tattoo flexing above. She lingered there, the bare planes of his chest stealing her breath before she rasped, “A knife?”
He followed her eyes down, mouth curving faintly.
“Always.”
She caught his hand, tugging it beneath the darkness of her cloak. He felt the tremor in her grip—the storm she carried.
“I’ve been summoned to the queen’s chamber,” she whispered.
Her eyes lifted, glistening.
“The girls say she means to announce my betrothal. To an elf in Dunfel.”
A muscle pulled in his jaw. Over his shoulder, Gabriel stood with arms crossed, expression carved from stone. But Viktor leaned closer—close enough that the fall of her hood brushed his temple.
“You decide your fate…”
His lips grazed her ear.
“Princess.”
He pressed a kiss to her cheek—soft, dangerous, lingering just long enough to steal her breath.
Her gaze clung to his when he drew back, bright with want she couldn’t hide, a silent promise and a plea all at once.
Then the knock came again—lighter, quicker. The door creaked, and the she-elf returned with another at her side, both bearing trays of brushes and pots.
Viktor stepped back, his face shuttered into calm, as if nothing had happened at all.
Evander slipped in from the hall to Amerei’s side, guiding her arm into his. His voice was so low, only Viktor caught it.
“Now you’re the exotic one,” he said, a faint smirk in his tone. “Enjoy it, human.”
He steered Amerei back into the corridor, her hood lowered once more.
She was gone in a whisper of silk and shadow—leaving Viktor with nothing but the taste of her want on his lips.