Page 6 of Blood and Thorns

So you have,I think, watching her with growing interest. “Good. You’ll need that if you want to continue breathing within these walls.”

She squares her shoulders. “I’m not naïve,” she says, voice low. “I understand my life belongs to House Draeven. But if there’s any chance to... be useful, I’ll take it.”

I let a slight pause hang in the air. Then I reach for the silver pitcher on the table, pouring liquid into one goblet. I recognize the aroma: dark wine laced with a mild narcotic, a typical refreshment for new tributes. The dosage is minimal—just enough to loosen a person’s inhibitions without rendering them unconscious.

I offer it to her. “Drink.”

She hesitates, suspicion flaring in those stormy eyes. I can almost taste her fear, but she takes the goblet. Instead of raising it immediately to her lips, she studies the liquid, likely pondering the risk of poison or worse. She must realize that refusing me could be an even bigger danger.

She brings it to her mouth and sips. I note the slight grimace—an understandable reaction to the sharp, medicinal bite. Still, she doesn’t spit it out. There’s a flicker of steel in her manner that I respect.

“You’ll remain here,” I tell her once she sets the goblet down. “We’ll arrange a chamber for you near the western corridor. For now, you’re not to wander freely until I’m certain you aren’t a liability.”

She gives a measured nod, struggling for composure. “As you command.”

Her subdued tone intrigues me; it’s not fawning, not sniveling. She’s cautious, but I sense the underlying flicker of irritation.

“Tomorrow,” I continue, “you’ll receive fresh attire and basic training in our customs. My mother and I have... plans for you. Obedience will keep you alive. Competence may grant you more freedom than you expect.”

“Freedom?” She arches a brow. “Under Vrakken rule?”

My lips tighten. “You’ll find we are not the dark elves. We don’t delight in making our thralls suffer needlessly. But makeno mistake—we are predators. Don’t confuse our disinterest in petty cruelty for mercy.”

A shadow crosses her face. She reaches for the wine again, as if grappling with the implications of my words. Silence follows, punctuated by the steady crackle of the fire.

That’s when I sense it—the faint shift in her pulse. My heightened hearing picks up the quickening tempo, and my predatory instincts stir. Her blood calls to me, but I clamp down on the hunger. Feeding is not my aim this evening. There’s a bigger opportunity here, one that requires cunning, not impulsive indulgence.

I lean forward. “Valeria, House Draeven has many enemies.”

Her brow furrows. “The dark elves? Aren’t they your allies now?”

A mirthless laugh escapes me. “They’d like to think so, but alliances with them are fleeting. The bigger threats lie elsewhere as well. Rival Vrakken Houses, certain orc factions, and other... forces that resent our hold on strategic resources.” I lace my fingers together. “We have to stay vigilant, and for that, we need eyes in many places.”

She studies me for a moment, lips parted in a silent question. A shadow of realization flickers behind her gaze—perhaps she’s guessing that I intend to use her in some greater design. My mother’s words echo in my ears:Watch her, Vaelorian. There’s more than meets the eye.

“I see,” she replies softly. “So you’re telling me I might be one of those eyes?”

“Perhaps.” My wings shift against the chair’s back, a subtle reminder that I’m far from human. “In time, if you prove capable.”

She releases a slow breath. “I’ve been surviving under the dark elves for years. I know how to gather information.” There’s a bitterness to her tone that piques my curiosity. She’s eitherwell-practiced in subterfuge or extremely desperate. Possibly both.

I rise to my feet with deliberate grace, ignoring the slight tension in my muscles. Her gaze flicks to my wings, then away, as though unnerved by the silent threat they represent. The room suddenly feels smaller with me standing, overshadowing her. I’m keenly aware of her elevated pulse and the faint flush creeping along her neck, whether from the wine or something else.

Stepping closer, I let the firelight cast dancing reflections in my black eyes. She stiffens, but holds her ground. “There will be rules,” I say softly. “Betray them, and you’ll learn how swiftly House Draeven punishes disloyalty. Am I clear?”

She swallows. “Perfectly clear.”

For a moment, we stand in silence. The flicker of candlelight plays over her features, highlighting the set of her jaw, the intensity of her gaze. Something about her stirs a faint spark in my chest—a fleeting sensation that’s neither hunger nor pity, but a dangerous third option. Interest. I mentally push it aside.

I pivot toward the door. “You’ll be escorted to your temporary quarters. Rest. Tomorrow begins your orientation into our household.”

The door opens to reveal a Vrakken attendant waiting on the other side. Without needing direction, he steps in, offering a curt bow. “My lord?”

“Take her to the west wing,” I instruct, then glance back at Valeria. “Don’t cause trouble.”

She inclines her head. “I won’t.”

Her tone is subdued, but I don’t miss the way her gaze lingers on me as she stands. She follows the attendant out, and leaves me alone in the receiving room. I watch her disappear into the corridor. As soon as the door closes, I exhale slowly.

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