Page 57 of Blood and Thorns

When everyone is ready, Vaelorian swings onto his horse. Helrath signals for the warriors to form up. I mount mine, adrenaline prickling along my spine. The gatehouse groans open, revealing the road leading away from House Draeven. The world beyond beckons—wild, dangerous.

Vaelorian raises a gloved hand. “Move out.” His tone is clipped. The horses respond, hooves echoing on the cobblestones. I urge my mare forward, falling into the second rank. In moments, we ride out under the fortress gate, leaving behind the relative safety of House Draeven.

Wind bites my cheeks. My senses sharpen. The reality of what’s to come floods me: we’re heading toward a confrontation that could shift the balance of power in Protheka. My half-Vrakken blood simmers in my veins, a reminder of what sets me apart, even among these Vrakken allies. The memory of Vaelorian’s deception burns, but so does the memory of the anguish in his eyes when he apologized.

One step at a time, I remind myself. Survive the ambush, confirm Xathien’s captives, rescue them if possible. Only after that can I decide my future. Whether I stay with House Draeven or vanish into the unknown.

We ride on, the dawn sky streaked with gold and violet. My heart remains conflicted, balanced between fury and a deeper longing I can’t bury. Vaelorian leads us, silent and focused. I stare at his broad back, wings arching gracefully, and the oldache resurfaces.Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.But for now, I have a mission that demands my full attention.

Tightening my grip on the reins, I vow that I’ll see it through—and once the dust settles, I’ll make sure Vaelorian understands that I’m more than a tool, or a secret bloodline advantage.I am Valeria Thorne, half Vrakken, half human, wholly done with being anyone’s pawn.

12

VAELORIAN

Istand in the torchlit hallway outside my mother’s private receiving chamber, my wings half-furled and my nerves stretched taut. The stone floor beneath my boots is polished to a high sheen, reflecting the flicker of the iron wall sconces. My reflection looks back at me—pale skin, dark hair, black eyes that show no human whites—and I notice the tension in my jaw. One look is enough to tell me I’m primed for a fight.

A pair of House Draeven guards flanks the ornate doors ahead, each bowing slightly at my presence. Usually, they’d step aside without question, but tonight, they hesitate—uncertain, perhaps, whether to announce me or bar my passage. My mother’s summons was abrupt, more urgent than usual. I give the guards a curt nod and push open the doors myself, sending them scrambling to catch up.

Inside, the chamber is dim, lit by a single chandelier of wrought iron and a row of flickering candles on a long table. The shadows of carved pillars loom along the edges, lending a sense of severity to the space. My mother, Matriarch Brinda, stands near the far side, dressed in a gown of deep violet that nearlyblends into the gloom. Her silver-white hair is wound in an elaborate updo, accentuating the angles of her face.

She turns as I enter, her posture stiff with contained authority. A handful of our council members murmur in a far corner, but they fall silent at my arrival. Tension coils like a serpent in the air.

“Vaelorian,” she greets me in that cool, measured tone that used to unnerve me as a child. Now, I understand her well enough to know it signals disapproval. “I appreciate your haste.”

I cross the stone floor, wings tucked close to avoid knocking the tall candlesticks that frame the dais where she stands. “Your summons sounded urgent.”

She doesn’t move from her spot, so I halt a few paces away, meeting her eyes. The council members shift in the periphery, their presence reminding me this isn’t a private meeting.Why gather them for a personal affair?A prickle of foreboding runs through me.

“It is urgent,” Brinda says. “We have… discovered something alarming.” Her gaze is razor-sharp, scanning my face. “Would you care to explain why a half-blood roams our halls under your protection?”

My teeth clench.So that’s it.The confrontation over Valeria being half Vrakken—the secret I tried to smother. Clearly, the rumor mill has outpaced my efforts to contain it. “Who told you?” I ask, forcing my voice steady.

She lifts a hand with a dismissive flick. “Does it matter? I have ears everywhere, Vaelorian. Besides, the fiasco at the last gathering with that Sharath noble was hardly inconspicuous. He ranted about being ‘burned’ by her blood—about discovering a half-breed. You cannot honestly believe House Draeven’s leadership would let such claims go unexamined.”

A wave of frustration surges through me. I’ve spent days trying to manage the aftermath, stationing guards to hush talk,bribing a few rumor-mongers. Clearly, I underestimated how quickly news travels among the upper echelons. “Mother,” I begin quietly, “she’s?—”

Brinda’s eyes flash. “She’s a liability.” Her voice rings out, cold and precise. “There are documented laws—ancient though they may be—stipulating that half-bloods are abominations. Our Council is already whispering about potential punishments for any half-breed who might destabilize the existing balance. Some have called for her execution.”

My temper flares, but I rein it in. Behind Brinda, two of the council members shift, uneasy. They must sense my anger. “Are you telling me the Council is rallying behind that archaic dogma? We face a war with Xathien, a threat that could undermine us all, and they’re worried about a single half-blood female? That’s madness.”

Brinda inclines her head slightly, acknowledging my point. “Madness or not, it’s a real concern. If we let her live openly, we risk scandal among other Vrakken Houses who fear half-breeds. They may question our leadership. The dark elves might also catch wind—if they haven’t already—and see her as a prime specimen for their vile experiments. We become a target. House Draeven can’t afford that vulnerability.”

My wings twitch, scraping the edge of my coat. I glance at the silent council members, reading the flickers of doubt on their faces. I catch a faint whisper from one:“He must relinquish her.”My blood ignites.

“I won’t hand her over,” I say, voice low but resolute. “She’s proven her worth as an operative. Her infiltration has been key to uncovering Xathien’s plans. She is not some worthless half-breed to be discarded.”

One of the councilors, a wiry man with hair the color of ash, steps forward. “My lord, with respect, her lineage poses a direct challenge to the stability we maintain. If rumorsspread that House Draeven harbors a half-blood, we could face hostility from neighboring Vrakken. Your mother simply advises caution.”

“Caution?” My gaze snaps to him. “Caution means we keep her concealed, safe from prying eyes, not that we murder her to appease outdated superstition.”

He hesitates, glancing at Brinda. She remains composed, though tension lines her jaw. “I have not endorsed her execution,” she clarifies, “but certain influential council members and allied Houses might demand it if we don’t present a suitable plan.”

Wings rustling, I say,“Then the plan is that she stays under my protection. The Council can attempt to bring the matter to a vote, but they’ll have to go through me.” A flicker of defiance burns in my chest. “I won’t relinquish her to appease their fears.”

A hush falls. The council members exchange uneasy looks. Brinda’s lips press into a thin line. “Why is this so important to you?” she asks softly, stepping closer so the others can’t easily eavesdrop. “You’ve never hesitated to discard a compromised operative in the past.”

My throat tightens. She’s right in a sense: I’ve done plenty of ruthless things for House Draeven’s benefit. I’ve cast aside incompetent thralls or betrayal-suspects. But Valeria is different, no matter how I spin it. She has proven invaluable, yes, but beyond that, she… matters. On a level I’m not used to acknowledging.

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