Page 77 of Blood and Thorns

Her eyes flick from the broken statues to my face, searching for any sign of deception. Slowly, she exhales. “I never wanted to see you lose everything. But…”

“But it’s too late,” I finish, voice hushed. “I’d rather fight at your side than rule a House that wants you dead.”

Valeria blinks, tears glistening unshed. “What if the sabotage fails? We could be captured—especially me. You know they want me above all else. If Xathien seizes me, no fortress walls will save me. You’d lose me anyway.”

My heart twists at the horror of that possibility. “I know. But we can’t let fear bind us. If we do nothing, Xathien’s fortress remains a factory churning out monstrous spells. They’ll keep forging caravans to snatch half-bloods or any Vrakken they can drain. Their power grows, and eventually, no one stops them. If we succeed, we level the field—maybe not for House Draeven, but for everyone else. Then we vanish to a place no one expects. We choose our own fate.”

A flicker of hope kindles in her gaze. “You… you mean it? We run. Not to submit, but to strike first, disrupt their plan, and then find somewhere safe?”

I nod, letting my hand drift over hers in a hesitant caress. “This time, we do it as equals. No more illusions of me controlling the plan or using you as a tool. We decide together where to go, how to live. I’m done letting the Council or my mother’s legacy shape my every move.”

She swallows, blinking back tears. “I… want that. I’m terrified, but I want it. We can’t keep dancing on the edge of betrayal, letting others define us. If we sabotage that fortress, we might save who knows how many captives from ending up like those we rescued. We give ourselves a fighting chance.”

A rush of relief warms my chest. She agrees—truly agrees, not out of fear, but because we share the same conviction. This is the hinge point of my entire life. I circle the corridor, gaze flicking to the battered archways, mindful of the noise of fighting still echoing from distant halls. “We can’t linger. The dark elves might push deeper any moment.”

She tries to push off the wall, wincing when her leg nearly gives out. I dart forward, supporting her. A tension leaps between us at the closeness, the reminder of that raw coupling in the catacombs. Heat flushes my cheeks, memories swirling. But we can’t indulge in that here. We have a fortress to escape.

Valeria glances at me, voice subdued. “You’ll have to help me walk. My leg isn’t going to carry me far alone.”

“I will,” I say, hooking her arm around my neck. “Lean on me.” My wings lift slightly to balance us both as we move. For a moment, I wonder if I might carry her in my arms, but she shakes her head, pride glinting. I respect that.

Step by painstaking step, we make our way through the labyrinthine corridors. Broken doorways reveal shattered storerooms, hallways charred by illusions and flame. The fortress moans like a dying beast. We duck whenever we hear distant footfalls—neither of us can handle a full skirmish. Our illusions are frayed from overuse, our spells limited. Yet somehow, we avoid direct confrontation. The chaos in the upper wards draws the main dark elf force, leaving the lesser passages momentarily clear.

At last, we reach an old postern gate behind a collapsed corridor. The wooden door, half-ripped from its hinges, faces the wide gorge behind House Draeven. Once, it served as a hidden exit for scouting parties. Now, it’s our path to freedom. I brace the door with my shoulder, pushing aside debris until we can slip through. Cool night air greets us, carrying the scent of smoke and the faint screams from above. A wave of grief hits me—allthat history, all that power, lost in a single night. But I let it go. House Draeven is no longer mine to claim.

We slip out into the darkness. Stars swirl overhead, the moon tinted red by the haze of distant fires. The slope beyond leads to a shallow ravine. We pick our way down carefully, Valeria’s hand gripping my arm. Her teeth clench at every misstep, but she doesn’t complain. I admire her grit—no one else has that unbreakable will. It fuels my resolve: if we’re truly forging a new future, I want her at my side every step.

Once we’re clear of the fortress walls, the sense of oppression lifts slightly. The combat remains behind us, and while guilt gnaws at me—knowing some of my people still fight—I also accept the necessity of our flight. We can’t save them from a Council that welcomes betrayal. My heart hammers with the enormity of what we’re doing.We’re forsaking House Draeven. We’re rogue.

At the base of the ravine, a narrow track snakes into the dense forest. Trees arch overhead, forming a canopy that rustles in the breeze. I pause, helping Valeria lower herself onto a fallen log. We both breathe heavily, exhaustion pressing in. Her leg wound bleeds anew, staining the makeshift bandage.

“Let me—” I say, reaching to rebind it. She gives a faint nod of permission, though pain creases her brow. Gently, I tighten the cloth, using the last of my salve. She exhales in relief, wincing. My stomach twists. If we don’t find a proper healer soon, this infection could become lethal. The dark elves or Vrakken might track us. We have no safe haven. And yet…

Valeria touches my wrist. “Thank you,” she murmurs. Then her eyes flick to the towering pines. “Where do we even go? Is there a place the dark elves can’t reach? That your Council can’t find?”

I sigh, sheathing my blade. “We’ll have to vanish, truly. The known Vrakken territories won’t welcome a half-blood, and mypresence might incite more Council fury. Perhaps the eastern wilds, or even across the sea to lands rarely charted.” The thought is daunting, but not impossible. We can travel far from Protheka’s usual lines of conflict if we need to.

She nods slowly, though worry shadows her features. “And you want to sabotage Xathien’s fortress first. That’s no small feat. They have wards, armies, illusions guarding them.”

A swirl of adrenaline kindles in my gut. “Exactly. But we can’t do it alone. We’ll need allies—maybe not from House Draeven, but from those still loyal to me personally, or from the rescued Vrakken we freed in that caravan. We can’t gather a large army, but a strike team might suffice if we slip in by stealth.”

Valeria tilts her head, lips pursed in thought. “We do what we did with the caravan infiltration, only on a bigger scale. You still have contacts who might remain loyal, yes? People who blame the Council for Helrath’s death?”

I exhale, recalling the devastation of Helrath’s murder. Some of his men might want revenge. “Yes,” I say. “If we can rendezvous with them, gather intelligence on Xathien’s fortress, then strike swiftly. We sabotage their labs, free any half-blood captives, destroy as many illusions as we can. With that fortress crippled, the dark elves lose momentum. Then we vanish.”

She nods, something like determination lighting her eyes. “Let’s do it. I’m done letting them hunt me like an animal. If I can burn their fortress down, I will.”

A fierce swell of admiration pulses in my chest. We are no longer master and pawn. She stands as my equal, her fiery spirit fueling my own. I brush a hand across her cheek, hesitating only a moment before letting my palm settle. She leans into the touch, exhaling shakily.

“Then it’s settled,” I say. “We sever ties with House Draeven entirely. Let the Council call me a traitor. Let them rage. Our priority is dismantling Xathien’s stronghold.”

Her eyes flash with that intense mix of anger and resolve I’ve come to crave. “Fine. You do realize the Council will brand us both fugitives. We might never return to these lands.”

My throat tightens, wings shifting involuntarily.Never returning.I think of the fortress overhead, the ancestral halls that shaped me, and a pang of grief hits. But the memory of Helrath’s body on the floor, of Valeria’s tears, steels me. “They’ve betrayed everything House Draeven was supposed to stand for,” I say. “We forge a new path. Maybe in time, we can gather enough to challenge the Council or unify scattered Vrakken. But for now, our survival—and toppling that dark elf fortress—must come first.”

She lays a hand atop mine, eyes gleaming. “Then let’s move before the dark elves track us down. How far to your loyalists?”

I blow out a breath. “A few days’ journey east, if we skirt the known roads. An old outpost we used for covert negotiations. I pray those men remain loyal. They were always Helrath’s, not the Council’s.”

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