Page 47 of Blood and Thorns

“What happened?” I ask, breath quick from jogging.

He rakes a hand through his hair. “We intercepted a coded message. Xathien’s next shipment leaves in four days. We have a location—near a mountain pass.”

My pulse jumps. “So we can stage an ambush?”

He nods, jaw tight. “Yes, but we need people on the inside. We must confirm the cargo before we strike, ensure we’re hitting the right caravan. I’m organizing a small infiltration team. I need you with them.”

Surprise mingles with excitement and dread. “You’re trusting me in a direct assault?”

His eyes flash. “We can’t rely on untested scouts to identify these captives. You know the signs to look for—warding spells, illusions, how they might conceal the Vrakken. You’ll signal us when you’re certain.”

I swallow. “That’s dangerous. If something goes wrong, I might be caught in the crossfire.”

He exhales. “I know. But this is the only way to secure proof.”

Silence falls.He’s offering me a pivotal role in House Draeven’s move against Xathien.Despite the risk, a surge of fierce pride swells in me.He believes I’m capable.

I step closer, resting a hand on the desk beside him. Our proximity crackles with tension. “I’ll do it. Whatever you need.”

He shifts, gaze flicking to my hand. For a second, it feels like we’re back in that heated moment, but the urgency of the situation weighs too heavily.

“Thank you,” he says, voice rough. “I’ll finalize the plan by dawn. We leave tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow night. My breath catches. “So soon.”

He nods. “Yes. The council agreed we can’t delay.”

I straighten. “I’ll prepare.”

We hover in that tight space, the unspoken turmoil between us pressing in. Eventually, he draws in a slow breath. “Be careful. You’re too valuable to lose in some ill-conceived ambush.”

My cheeks flush. “I will.”

His wings shift, brushing the side of my arm, and an electric jolt zips through me. We both freeze, locked in each other’s stares. I half expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t.

“Valeria…” he begins, tone conflicted.

A storm of emotions swirls in my chest—longing, frustration, determination. “I know,” I whisper. “We have bigger things to handle.”

He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they’re cool again. “Yes.”

I leave, heart pounding, with the sense that everything is building to a flashpoint.Tomorrow, we prepare to face Xathien’s transport. And if we fail, House Draeven could lose its last advantage.

Back in my suite, I collapse onto the bed fully clothed. My mind spins with possibilities: The dark elves capturing more Vrakken to fuel horrifying magic; the fate of those trapped behind locked doors. If we succeed in intercepting them, we could save lives and unravel Xathien’s plot.

I think of Vaelorian, the flicker of concern in his voice, how he tries so hard to remain distant. My heart twists.We’re both caught in something bigger than ourselves.Romance, desire—these are luxuries overshadowed by looming war.

Yet I can’t deny how my pulse races at the thought of him risking his life in the coming ambush.You can’t lose focus,I scold myself. The mission must come first. But the fear of something happening to him gnaws at me like a silent predator.

Taking a steadying breath, I remind myself:I chose this path.I wanted to be more than a powerless thrall. Now, I’m integral to House Draeven’s next move. The stakes couldn’t be higher.

I sit up, rummaging through a chest near the bed. Pulling out my infiltration gear, I check each piece: a snug black tunic, flexible pants, a small dagger strapped to my thigh. I also find the coded documents Vaelorian gave me weeks ago, containing intel on dark elf illusions.Every advantage counts.

When I’m done, exhaustion envelops me. I lie down, hoping for a few hours of sleep. The fortress is quiet except for distant patrols. My body is tired, but my mind conjures images of the locked door and the pained moans behind it.

Eventually, I drift off, clutching the memory of Vaelorian’s half-whispered caution like a talisman.Be careful,he said.You’re too valuable to lose.

Those words haunt me with warmth and fear in equal measure. Tomorrow might decide the fate of House Draeven, and maybe our own fragile connection. And despite my exhaustion, I feel strangely alive—tangled in a dance of power and desire, ready to face the storm that Xathien’s experiments have unleashed.

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