Page 69 of Blood and Thorns

Brinda lifts a hand, quieting the murmurs. She appears thoughtful, but her eyes hold concern. “Vaelorian speaks sense in one regard: appeasing the dark elves by offering the half-blood is no guarantee of peace. They have grown bold, and Xathien’s hunger for Vrakken essence extends beyond just one hybrid.” She shifts her gaze. “Yet the Council wonders how we quell the tension her presence creates among our allied Houses. Some threaten to withdraw support if we shelter her.”

A vise seems to tighten around my chest. They’re cornering me with political might. If we lose key allies, House Draeven stands alone. My wings twitch involuntarily, a sign of agitation. “We show them the testimonies of the rescued. We demonstrate that with Valeria’s infiltration prowess, we can outmaneuver Xathien. The half-blood is no threat to us, but a bulwark against the true enemy.”

I pivot slightly, addressing the entire chamber. “Give me time to gather more allies from our neighboring Houses. Let me leverage our new proof. Once we rally a formidable coalition, the dark elves cannot intimidate us with their army. Then you will see Valeria’s worth beyond any prejudice.”

A hush extends. Some council members exchange glances, uncertain. A glimmer of hope surges in me—perhaps reason can prevail. Then, from the shadows near the chamber’s entrance, a new figure emerges, stepping into the circle of torchlight. My insides coil with alarm. It’s Mahir, a Vrakken noble I’ve trusted for years—he handled clandestine negotiations for House Draeven’s benefit, a so-called ally. But his presence now is unscheduled, and the tension on his face sets me on edge.

He clears his throat, scanning the chamber with dramatic flourish. “Council members, Matriarch, I bring an urgent matter that cannot wait.”

Brinda’s brow arches. “Speak, Mahir. We are in session.”

A hush falls, so complete I hear the crackle of torch flames. Mahir’s expression holds an odd mix of regret and cunning. “I regret that it falls to me to reveal a grave betrayal. Lord Vaelorian’s infiltration team was not the only party gleaning secrets. I have discovered that the half-blood’s existence was leaked directly to the dark elves—the very details of her identity, her role, and House Draeven’s plan.”

My blood chills.Who would do that?My mother’s staff strikes the floor sharply, echoing like thunder. Gasps ripple through the assembly. I whirl to face Mahir fully, heart hammering. “What do you mean, leaked to the dark elves?”

Mahir presses his lips together in a parody of sorrow. “I fear some within House Draeven have struck a deal, exchanging knowledge about the half-blood for dark elf backing in future disputes. Or so the rumors say.” He lifts his head. “I have evidence that an alliance has formed behind your back, Vaelorian. A hidden faction that deems the half-blood a liability, too dangerous to House Draeven. They sold out her identity and location.”

I stare at him, shock warring with rage. “This is… monstrous. If true, we have a traitor in our midst. Name them.”

His eyes flick aside, voice hushed. “All signs point to it being an inside job from one of your closest confidants. My sources whisper the traitor is none other than Helrath?—”

My mind blanks.Helrath?That can’t be. He’s fought by my side, trained Valeria, risked his life more times than I can count. But the chamber erupts in confusion, voices rising. My mother pounds her staff again.

“Silence!” she snaps. “This accusation is dire. We cannot convict Helrath without proof, but we must investigate immediately. If Helrath is indeed the leak, the dark elves might already be on their way here.”

Lord Syrath’s voice rings out: “We should confine both the half-blood and Helrath until we ascertain the truth. This is no time for leniency.”

Panic claws at me. If the Council confines Valeria, she’s effectively at their mercy. My trust in Helrath runs deep—he wouldn’t betray me, would he? But Mahir’s calm, lethal manner suggests he’s come armed with more than rumor. A swirl of suspicion churns. Is Helrath truly the traitor, or is Mahir forging evidence?

Before I can speak, the doors to the council chamber fly open. A breathless guard staggers in, crying, “Dark elves! They’ve breached the outer gate! We’re under attack—dozens of soldiers within our walls!”

Chaos ignites. Council members leap from their seats, shouting contradictory orders. My mother’s face hardens, and she barks commands for immediate defense. I spin, wings unfurling instinctively, searching the crowd for Valeria. She stands near a pillar, eyes wide, knuckles white around a dagger’s hilt. Our gazes lock across the swirling mass of frantic Vrakken.The dark elves are here.They forced the fortress gates or found a hidden entry—someone must have guided them in.

So it’s happening. The betrayal is real. My mind whirls.Which ally leaked the details?Helrath has no motive, I’m certain. That leaves Mahir or someone else trying to frame him. I grit my teeth. No time to unravel it fully—we must protect Valeria from a direct assault. The dark elves want her above all else.

I fight through the scramble of councilors to reach her side. “Valeria,” I say, voice taut, “we’re compromised. We have to get you out before they corner you.”

She nods, though fear and anger flicker in her gaze. “Where do we go?”

I try to quell the panic roiling in my gut. If the fortress is compromised, the old infiltration routes might be blocked. “Follow me,” I say, gesturing for her to keep close. “There’s a hidden corridor beyond the west wing?—”

Suddenly the main doors to the chamber burst open again, this time revealing a squad of dark elf soldiers clad in black leather and obsidian armor. They surge in, weapons drawn, illusions swirling. Shouts ring out as councilors scramble backward, some drawing their own blades. I snarl, stepping in front of Valeria, brandishing my spelled sword.

Chaos erupts. Dark elves slash at unsuspecting Vrakken, illusions crackle overhead, and I catch a glimpse of my mother unleashing a savage wave of vampiric magic that sends a pair of dark elves flying. The carnage is immediate—blood on polished floors, the ring of steel against steel, shrieks of council members not used to direct combat. I block a blow aimed at me, stumbling as the force jars my arm. My wings flare for balance.

Valeria ducks a sword strike from a snarling dark elf officer. She counters with a swift slash that carves across his side. He howls, stumbling. My chest tightens with savage admiration.She’s fighting for her life, as always.Another soldier lunges from behind, and I intercept, driving my blade through his chest. Hot blood splatters.

Then I see a tall figure behind the attacking soldiers—a dark elf lieutenant, calling orders to “Find the half-blood!” My stomach lurches. They know exactly who they want. If they fixate on her now, pinned in this chamber with so many enemies, we risk losing everything. The entire fortress might fall if the dark elves seize her.

I need a ruse. The flicker of an idea forms. A horrifying strategy, but it might be the only way to keep her alive while we gather a defense. If the dark elves think I’m abandoning her, they might lower their guard, believe she’s unprotected. I loathethe thought, but in the swirl of crisis, it’s our best chance to lure them off-balance and let me strike from another angle.

I spin, catching Valeria’s arm mid-fight. She gasps as I drag her out of the fray for a split second. My eyes blaze with urgency. “Trust me,” I breathe. “No matter what happens, trust me.” Without waiting for her reply, I push her away with a snarl, turning to bellow at the soldiers, “Do what you want with her—I wash my hands of this half-blood abomination!”

Her face contorts in betrayal, shock flooding her wide eyes. I see the heartbreak there, but I force my expression into cold fury. If this works, the dark elves will believe I’ve surrendered her to them. They’ll swarm her, but Helrath—assuming he’s not the traitor—can help me strike from behind. This is the cruelty of House Draeven’s strategy: illusions within illusions.

Valeria staggers back, a cry of raw hurt forming on her lips. “Vaelorian, what?—?”

A wave of dark elf illusions crashes toward her, but I step aside as if washing my hands of her. My heart lurches painfully at her wounded expression, but I keep my face an icy mask, loud enough for the dark elves to hear me. “Take her if you must—she’s the reason our fortress is under siege!” I roar, injecting every ounce of scorn into my tone. “She’s worthless to us now.”

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