Page 63 of Blood and Thorns

The officers disperse to handle last-minute preparations for our departure. Helrath remains, leaning over the map, muttering curses under his breath. Vaelorian lingers as well, attention fixed on the scroll containing the scout’s report. I’m about to slip out when he meets my eyes, a question lingering there.

He crosses the distance between us, shoulders tense. “Valeria,” he says softly, ensuring nobody else is in earshot, “I’m sorry you had to hear it this way. That the dark elves are specifically targeting you.”

My anger at him has simmered into an exhausted resignation. I shrug. “It’s not your fault. This world wants me dead for existing, apparently.” My voice quivers, betraying the fear under my bravado. “Though I suppose if you’d told me about my heritage sooner, maybe we could’ve prepared for this.”

He flinches, guilt evident in the tightness around his eyes. “I know. But we’re facing it now. You’re not alone in this.”

I stare at him, heart twisting with a blend of fury and yearning. “Am I not? Because it feels like everyone wants a piece of me—dark elves, the Vrakken Council, even you. Each has their own agenda.”

His mouth opens, but no immediate retort comes. After a beat, he inhales. “I get how it looks. But I swear, I’m doing everything in my power to ensure your safety. The Council might threaten you, but I won’t let them carry out any sentence. And the dark elves’ attempt to gather an army only proves we must strike swiftly.”

I cross my arms, swallowing a tremor. “I don’t want to be the cause of a war.”

His wings rustle. “You’re not. The dark elves have been pushing for ages—experimenting on captured Vrakken, allying with rogue orc clans. Your presence just forced them to accelerate their plans. Maybe that’s for the best. If we confront them now, we can’t be taken by surprise later.”

A bitter laugh slips from me. “Always finding a silver lining, Vaelorian?”

He doesn’t smile. “Sometimes, that’s all we can do.”

I shake my head, stepping back. “I need to prepare my gear.” My voice cracks slightly. “If I’m so crucial, I’d better be ready for anything.”

He watches me, a flicker of sorrow in his eyes. “We ride in one hour. Meet in the courtyard.”

Without another word, I pivot and leave. My mind swirls, the reality of an entire army aiming to capture me hammering home the sense of precariousness.I have one hour to steel myself.The fortress corridors flash by in a blur.

Back in my suite,I tear through my belongings, assembling the infiltration garb Helrath gave me—dark leathers designed to mask my presence in mountainous terrain, a short sword honed from a Vrakken-forged metal. I check the runic tokens stashed in a pouch at my hip, carefully enchanted illusions that, if triggered, should obscure me from casual view. If the dark elves’ patrols spot me first, it won’t matter that I’m half Vrakken; they’ll subdue me with every vile tactic they have.

I pause, hand resting on the last token. A wave of helpless fury courses through me.Why must I constantly run or fight just because of my blood?I didn’t choose to be half anything. All I want is the chance to live freely—maybe find a life beyond being a pawn in others’ schemes.

But that’s a luxury I can’t afford right now. Anger ignites, fueling the determination I rely on.If the dark elves want me, they’ll have to fight for it.I strap the token pouch firmly around my waist, letting the righteous heat anchor me. A small voice inside wonders if this is how Vaelorian feels: cornered into ruthless action because there’s no gentle alternative.

Stepping to the mirror, I stare at my reflection: the woman I’ve become—no longer the cowed human thrall, no longer naive about my heritage. My hair is braided tightly back, revealing the faint angles in my face that might hint at my Vrakken side. My eyes glint with a sharper edge than they ever had in the dark elf courts.Let them come.I won’t cower this time.

I head to the courtyard,where warhorses and supply wagons stand prepped. Warriors in House Draeven colors bustle about, checking harnesses, whispering final instructions. The sky is pallid, streaks of dawn mixing with ominous clouds. A biting wind gusts through the open gates.

Vaelorian stands near the main gate, helm tucked under one arm, conferring with Helrath and a few others. I see Brinda’s tall form a short distance away, conversing with two council members, her posture regal. Doubtless, they’re all acutely aware that my presence here complicates everything. Tension laces the air so thick I can taste it.

I approach Vaelorian, forcing my chin high. At my arrival, he dismisses the gathered soldiers, sending them off to mount up. Helrath gives me a quick nod—something like solidarity flashing in his gaze.

Vaelorian’s eyes flick up and down, assessing my gear. “Good,” he murmurs. “We’ll travel light, splitting into two groups once we reach the foothills. You’ll ride with Helrath. I’ll scout the flank.”

A prickle of unease claws at me.He’s deliberately separating us.Maybe it’s strategic, maybe it’s to avoid personal friction. “Fine,” I say curtly.

Before we can speak further, Brinda calls Vaelorian’s name. He tenses, then strides toward her, leaving me standing beside Helrath. I watch them exchange sharp words, though I can’t hear from this distance. Brinda’s expression is unreadable, but I catch the flick of her hand toward me. A council member behind her frowns heavily, lips moving in what looks like protest.

Helrath sighs under his breath. “They won’t let this rest.”

A cold knot twists in my stomach. “They want me gone, right? The Council, I mean.”

He hesitates. “Some do. Others see your value. But with the dark elves mobilizing an army specifically to capture you, the Council grows jumpy. They fear you’re attracting the storm we’re unprepared for.”

I grit my teeth. “The storm was already coming. I’m just its catalyst.”

Helrath nods, pressing a reassuring hand to my shoulder. “Exactly. Let’s prove to them that your presence is our greatest weapon, not our weakness.”

His words spark a flicker of resolve. I manage a tight smile. “Thanks, Helrath.”

Vaelorian returns, face carved in tension. He glances at me. “Mount up. We depart now.”

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