Page 58 of Blood and Thorns

I clear my throat, striving for calm. “I believe she’s crucial to our fight against Xathien. Her half-blood heritage grants unique strengths—she can resist illusions, sense hidden spells, recover quickly from injuries. She’s an asset we can’t replicate.”

Brinda’s eyes narrow. “Asset, hmm?” Her voice is deceptively smooth. “And that’s all?”

I hold her gaze, wrestling with the admission building in my chest.She’s more than an asset.But if I confirm I harbor personal attachments, that might only make me appear compromised. “House Draeven needs her,” I say at last. “Her infiltration successes speak for themselves. If the Council pushes for her execution, I’ll oppose them.”

Brinda stares at me for a long, unblinking moment. Then she inclines her head. “Very well. I’ll attempt to temper the more hostile voices. But you must provide an alternative. They’ll want assurances that her existence won’t endanger our alliances or draw the dark elves’ attention.”

My relief is laced with tension. “I’m already working on that. Once we intercept Xathien’s next transport—and expose the full scope of the dark elves’ essence-harvesting plan—Valeria’s role will be recognized as indispensable. People will be too focused on the threat to question her heritage.”

“That is your gamble,” Brinda says, turning away to address the others. “For now, the Council will refrain from any official decree. But be warned, Vaelorian: if she stumbles, if the dark elves capture her or if she draws hostile scrutiny from other Houses, they’ll demand her life. And next time, even my influence might not shield her.”

I nod, forcing a dip of respect. “Understood.”

Brinda studies me a moment longer, as though gauging my resolve. Then she beckons the council members with a wave of her hand, dismissing them. They file out, each offering me a parting glance—some sympathetic, others guarded. I sense their unease.Good.Let them be uneasy. Valeria isn’t up for negotiation.

The chamber empties, leaving only Brinda and me in the flickering candlelight. The silence weighs heavily, like a cloak of tension draped around my shoulders. I half expect her to demand more details about Valeria’s parentage or question if Itruly can keep her presence secret. Instead, she releases a slow breath and moves to a small side table, pouring two glasses of a dark, viscous wine.

“Join me,” she says, the invitation sounding more like a command.

I approach, accepting the glass she extends. She sips hers, her gaze drifting to the tall windows overlooking the fortress courtyard. Shadows shift across the glass, silhouettes of patrolling guards. I swirl the wine, inhaling its faintly bitter bouquet. Usually, I’d savor the taste, but my nerves hum too intensely.

“Mother,” I say quietly, wanting to break the uneasy silence. “You disapprove of my stance.”

She sips again, then sets her goblet down. “I disapprove of anything that undermines House Draeven’s stability. A half-blood—particularly ahuman-Vrakken mix—could sow chaos if not handled carefully.” Her expression remains composed, but I detect the flicker of genuine concern in her eyes. “I also sense that your attachment to her is clouding your judgment.”

My jaw tightens. “I’m loyal to House Draeven, first and foremost.”

She arches a silver brow. “Are you? I see the way you speak of her. You claim she’s an asset, but your voice betrays something… deeper. Do not let sentiment drive you to reckless decisions. Power must be seized and safeguarded without emotional entanglements, or we risk everything.”

I bristle, remembering how Valeria accused me of using her purely for strategic ends. “I can balance both,” I insist. “I won’t let personal feelings overshadow our war with Xathien. But neither will I sacrifice her to outdated laws.”

Brinda regards me with a hint of sadness. “You’ve grown willful, my son. That could be a strength—if harnessed properly.” She picks up her wineglass again, swirling it. “If youfail, the Council might dethrone you as my successor. They’ll claim you’re compromised, unfit to lead House Draeven in the looming conflict. I cannot shield you from that if your plans unravel.”

A spike of anger mixes with fear. I force a calm veneer. “Then I’ll make sure my plans don’t unravel. Once we expose Xathien’s vile experiments, the rest of the Houses will rally behind us. Valeria’s role will be undeniable. They’ll see the value in her heritage.”Value. Another word that feels insufficient for what she means to me.

Brinda nods, stepping away from the table. “Be certain you’re not chasing illusions, Vaelorian. I taught you that power isn’t given; it’s seized. But if you cling too tightly to a half-breed in defiance of tradition, you risk turning allies into enemies.”

I can’t help the dryness in my tone. “Tradition also says we Vrakken only belong underground, away from the sun, a custom we’ve long since broken. Times change. Let the old laws rot.”

She studies me, a flash of wry amusement tugging one corner of her mouth. “You do have your father’s stubbornness. Very well. I’ll quell the Council for now, in the name of unity against Xathien. But do not fail me.”

We stand there, the flickering candlelight dancing across our pale complexions. A memory surfaces: me as a child, terrified of the dark caverns beneath House Draeven, and her voice urging me to conquer my fear. We’ve come so far from those days.

I set my untouched wine down, heart pounding. “I won’t fail. House Draeven will crush Xathien’s plot, and Valeria will be recognized for her contributions. That’s my vow.”

Brinda nods once, a regal inclination of her head. “See to it.” She gestures toward the door. “Go. There’s no point in us lingering with tension hanging in the air. The fortress hums with rumor. Best you address your responsibilities.”

I dip my head in a stiff bow, then turn to leave, mind roiling.She’s letting me keep Valeria for now, but the reprieve is conditional.If we slip, the Council will demand blood.

I depart the receiving chamber, stepping into a corridor lined with tall, arched windows. The night sky looms beyond, studded with stars, the faint glow of the moon outlining the fortress walls in silver. My chest feels tight, anger and relief tangling. At least the Matriarch hasn’t insisted on immediate punishment. Still, the threat lingers: one misstep, and Valeria could face execution.

I stride down the corridor, wings twitching with barely contained frustration. Two guards bow as I pass, but I offer them no acknowledgment. My thoughts veer to Valeria.How did we get to this point? One half-breed female holding so much sway over House Draeven’s future… and my own.A flicker of longing stabs me. I recall her face etched with fury and heartbreak when she confronted me about my deception. She’s furious, and rightfully so.

Rounding a corner, I nearly collide with Helrath. He halts abruptly, brows lifting. “You look ready to bite someone’s head off.”

I exhale sharply. “My mother. The Council. They want to weigh the possibility of executing Valeria to keep old superstitions appeased.”

His mouth tightens into a grim line. “Figured that might happen. You shut them down?”

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