Gavriel Sterling stood in the corner of a bathing chamber ten thousand years before he was born, watching himself protect the woman he loved.
Vesper's hands shook. Her eyes surged green, and for a second, it looked like she was going to lunge across the chamber and stab Tristan or River.
The doors burst open.
River screamed, grabbing her towel that had slipped, trying to cover herself as Tristan stepped in front of her, shielding her.
Fae guards stormed the bathing chamber in formation, boots cracking against wet marble.
Two of them reached Vesper in under a second. The first seized her wrist, twisting the dagger free with a controlled motion that sent the blade skittering across the stone. The second locked her arms behind her back.
Vesper fought. She twisted against the grip, her dark hair whipping across her face, her voice climbing into a register that carried through stone walls and down corridors.
