Page 16 of Blood and Thorns

I tilt my head, regarding her. “Not pathetic. Inexperienced. You’re improving faster than I expected.”

Her lips part in surprise. A moment later, she tries to mask it. “I... thank you.”

Setting the training dagger aside, I lead her back toward the main hall. “You’ll have to endure these drills daily, plus your studies in the library. We’ll ramp up quickly. We don’t have time for idle pacing. The dark elves are restless. Whispers of their new experiments, of alliances with unscrupulous orc clans, have reached my ears.”

She falls into step beside me, footsteps echoing. “I overheard rumors before, but never anything concrete.”

“Then you’ll collect proof next time you’re among them.” I open the door to the main training hall, letting her pass. “Helrath will refine your fighting skills, but your true strength will lie in espionage. That’s where I expect you to excel.”

She nods, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead. “I’m prepared. Although...” She hesitates, lips pressing together.

“What?”

She looks around, making sure no one else is within earshot. Vrakken soldiers duel near the far side of the hall, but they seem too focused on their own skirmish. “You mentioned the possibility of seduction, of infiltration beyond just listening at doors. I need to know how far you plan to push that. Because if it involves me letting a dark elf have access to me...” Her voice trembles slightly, betraying a memory of old trauma.

My jaw tightens. I recall the cruelty I’ve observed in the dark elf aristocracy. “If that becomes necessary, it’ll be your call. I’m not forcing you to share a bed with them. But you must be willing to feign interest, to flatter, to use your wits.”

She exhales slowly, relief warring with residual fear. “Good. Because I’ve had enough of being forced into a bed for someone else’s amusement. If I’m doing this, I want at least a shred of autonomy.”

I respect the bluntness of her request. Most humans would never dare speak this way, but she’s already proven she’s not typical. “Understood. You’ll have a measure of choice. However, we can’t risk losing vital intel because you’re squeamish.”

Her shoulders stiffen, and a new determination flashes in her eyes. “I’m not squeamish. I’m practical. If seduction is required, I can handle it. I just don’t want to be bartered like livestock again.”

I incline my head. “Duly noted.”

We fall into a thoughtful silence. She sets the wooden dagger on a rack near the exit. I realize that, in a way, I’m giving her more freedom than most humans in my position would. Yet House Draeven’s success hangs on her performance. The better she’s treated, the higher her odds of success.

My mother’s voice resonates in my memory: “Push her, Vaelorian. If she fails, discard her.”

Yes, that’s the arrangement. But a tiny fracture in my resolve wonders if I truly can discard her once I’ve seen her capacity for defiance, once I’ve glimpsed the fire in her eyes.Focus.

I square my shoulders, shutting down the swirl of conflicting emotions. “You should head to the library next,” I say, leading her to the hall’s exit. “I’ve assigned a caretaker to help you locate the texts on dark elf etiquette and advanced dialect. Study them until midday. Then return here for more training with Helrath.”

Valeria runs a hand through her hair, nodding. She’s exhausted, that much is evident, but she steels herself. “I’ll do it.”

I catch a flicker of respect for her resolve. “Good. Remember, I’ll be watching.”

She tilts her chin in acknowledgment. “I won’t disappoint you.”

I leave her in the corridor outside the training hall, assigning a junior Vrakken servant to escort her to the library. Once she’s gone, I pivot and climb a flight of stairs that loops around to a high balcony overlooking the hall. From there, I can see Helrath finishing drills with other recruits.

I stand at the railing, wings half-furled, letting my thoughts circle back to Valeria.Is she cunning enough to survive?She’s proven resourceful so far, but infiltration demands a different level of skill—one that requires subtlety, careful manipulation, and an ability to read her targets like open books.

The dark elves are masters of deception, always hungry for an advantage. Perhaps ironically, they’ve grown complacent when it comes to humans; they believe them easily cowed. That might be our greatest asset: they won’t see Valeria as a threat until it’s too late. If she can slip into their circles, glean secrets from unsuspecting aristocrats, she could dismantle alliances from within.

Still, the weight of that possibility sits heavily on my shoulders. If she fails, House Draeven may lose its best chance at striking back against the dark elf monarchy. Or worse, the monarchy could trace her actions to me, exposing our ambitions.

I replay yesterday’s events in my head—how she accepted my proposition without groveling, how she looked me in the eye and demanded my promise not to let others feed on her. That alone took courage. Perhaps she’s braver than I gave her credit for.

Which begs the question: how much of my trust does she truly deserve?

Trust is a currency I rarely trade in. I’ve watched countless deals unravel when emotions interfere, so I keep my attachments few. My mother taught me well: “We are apex predators. Do not entangle yourself with lesser creatures, or they’ll drag you down.”

And yet... I want to see Valeria succeed. Not merely because her victory advances House Draeven’s cause, but because there’s a thrill in watching her break free from the role of powerless thrall. It’s an odd, almost forbidden thought—why should I care about her personal triumph, so long as she serves her purpose?

The memory of her eyes flickers in my mind again—defiant, refusing to yield.That defiance intrigues me.

I push off from the railing, heading toward a secondary staircase that leads to my personal study. Decision made: I’ll test her. If she rises to the challenge, I’ll continue to invest in her training. If she falters, I’ll end the experiment. The sooner I ascertain her limits, the better.

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