Page 88 of Blood and Thorns

A faint shrug lifts his shoulders, but a flicker of a smile warms his lips. “They’ll mend. A few nights’ rest in an actual bed would do wonders, but that’s not exactly an option out here.”

A rueful smile tugs at me. “Perhaps we can scrounge together enough cloth and stuffing to make something more comfortable than the ground.”

He chuckles, a sound that resonates with subdued joy I haven’t heard from him in a long time. “If we remain here a while, maybe we will.”

We fall silent, gazing across the valley. I let the hush fill me, each heartbeat reminding me I’m alive, that the war’s immediate horrors lie behind us. The fortress we destroyed, the sabotage missions we carried out—it’s all given us some breathing room. We’re exiles from both the dark elves and the Vrakken Council. But for once, we’re not running this very moment. We’re free.

Vaelorian rests a hand lightly on my shoulder, an unspoken question in his eyes:Are you all right?

I exhale slowly. “I feel… untethered. Everything that drove me—vengeance, survival, the mission to destroy Xathien’s labs—it’s done. We have no home to return to, but at least the threat isn’t at our heels.” My voice wavers. “It’s a strange kind of peace.”

He nods, wings rustling. “We have time now,” he says, as if tasting the words. “Time to figure out who we are without a war pressing in.”

I can’t stop the stirring of hope that flutters in my chest. We glance at each other, a silent current flowing between us. He offers me his arm, and I take it. We wander along a faint path that curves down from the rocky ledge, leading to a secluded grove near the stream. The air there holds the scent of dampmoss and earth. Fireflies spark to life in the dim twilight, tiny pinpricks of light dancing around us.

The grove feels like a secret sanctuary—tall pines shelter the clearing, soft grass underfoot, the hush broken only by crickets and the burble of water. Vaelorian helps me settle onto a fallen log draped in green moss. My half-healed leg still twinges, but I manage with less pain now. He stands before me, a faint tension in his stance. The last time we had a moment to truly talk—really talk—was in the aftermath of one of our sabotage missions, still steeped in adrenaline. But this is different. We’re not pressed by danger tonight.

“I want to say something,” he murmurs, voice trembling slightly.

I watch him, heart thumping. “Go on.”

He kneels, wings folded tight, letting him meet my gaze levelly. “I never thought I’d see a day when I wasn’t fighting for House Draeven or feuding with the dark elves,” he begins, carefully. “Never thought I’d walk away from the seat of power I was raised to inherit. But then… you happened. You changed everything.”

I swallow, pulse fluttering. The memories of his manipulations and betrayals flash in my mind, but so do the memories of how he risked everything to save me, how he fought by my side, how we bled together. Now we share an exile that stands on the precipice of something more.

He continues, eyes dark with sincerity. “I’m not proud of the lies I told or the times I manipulated you. But everything I did in these past weeks—fighting the dark elves, forging alliances with outcasts, letting my birthright burn—was for us. For you, for the future we might build.” He lowers his head, exhaling. “I want to build a life with you, Valeria, free from the Council’s reach or the dark elves’ shadow. Something real. A home, however small.”

A tremor passes through me. A month ago, I wouldn’t have believed him. Even after I admitted my complicated feelings, I feared his every promise was laced with cunning. But his actions have matched his words. And more than that, my own heart wants the same. I lay a hand on his shoulder. “I want that too,” I whisper. “I’m tired of war being my only identity. Tired of being a half-blood everyone hunts or hates. If we can find a place to truly settle—” My voice catches. “That would be more than I ever dreamed.”

He stands, carefully pulling me to my feet. “Then let’s rest here,” he says softly, gesturing at the grove. “We can’t guarantee no one will find us eventually, but for now, it’s ours.”

I sense the unspoken invitation in his tone. The crickets chirp louder as the sky shifts from dusky purple to star-flecked black. Fireflies swirl in lazy arcs, illuminating the clearing with ephemeral glows. My heart beats faster, recalling the desperate couplings we shared before—a feral need in the catacombs, or frantic passion stolen amid battle’s aftermath. This time feels different: the tension has thinned, replaced by a cautious, trembling hope.

I let him guide me to a soft patch of moss near the stream’s edge, hidden by tall reeds. There’s a bedroll or two we carried along—makeshift, but better than stone. He spreads them out, illusions shimmering faintly, perhaps out of old habit. But there’s no immediate threat to hide from, no reason for illusions except a sense of comfort.

I sit, leaning back against a smooth boulder. He sits beside me, knees almost touching. The hush envelops us. We studied the stars once, from the parapets of a fortress, but that memory was stained with fear and suspicion. Now, the quiet hum of the night offers a promise of something gentler.

“Valeria,” he says, voice so low I barely hear over the crickets. “Let me see you—without fear.”

The request stirs a deep flutter in my belly.No illusions, no hidden agendas.Slowly, I nod, letting go of the last wards that cling to my body. They fade, revealing the faint silver scars on my arms from battles, the half-blood lines of my partial wings. My hair tumbles free from its tie. I watch him do the same, illusions dissolving to show the bruises on his chest, the scuffs across his skin from countless fights. We are both battered, but alive, meeting each other’s gaze.

His eyes sweep over me with a tenderness that robs me of breath. My chest tightens, recalling how many times we collided in urgent, desperate passion. Now, for the first time, it’s calm—an exhale after war. I lean in, lips parting. He meets me halfway, and our mouths brush in the lightest kiss, tentative, searching. A tremor runs through me. Gone is the savage need of survival. In its place is something warm and profound, like the dawn after a long night.

He deepens the kiss, hands sliding gently around my waist. I let out a soft sigh, curling my arms around his neck. Heat flares in my core, but it’s underpinned by a quiet, radiant affection. We break for a moment, foreheads touching, breath mingling in the hush. Each brush of our lips feels like a renewed vow, forging the bond we’ve danced around for so long.

Time slows. The rustle of leaves, the flicker of fireflies—they all drift to the edges of my awareness. My leg throbs less with him close, as though his presence dulls the pain. I run my fingers along his jaw, feeling the faint stubble. He shuts his eyes, leaning into my caress, wings twitching at the sensation. A soft laugh escapes me—it’s so surreal to find laughter in this place, on the run. But it’s real, and it fills my heart.

He presses delicate kisses along my cheek, my temple, trailing down to the sensitive place where my neck meets my shoulder. Each tender press of his mouth lights sparks of pleasure, a slow, simmering warmth. I shift, letting him ease meback onto the bedding. My pulse quickens, but there’s no fear or urgency. We have time, and we’re safe enough to savor it.

I whisper his name, and he answers by brushing my hair aside, eyes locked on mine. The sincerity shining there is all I need. My body relaxes in a way I didn’t think possible after so many nights of tension. Gently, he tugs at the fastenings of my tunic, pausing, silently asking for permission. I nod, inhaling. This is a choice, mutual and open, not forced by circumstances or adrenaline.

He slips the tunic off my shoulders, revealing the bruises and scars marking my skin. My partial wings twitch, vulnerable in the evening air. Uncertainty flutters inside me, an echo of old fears:Am I too scarred for him? Too changed by war?But the way he gazes at me, reverent and affectionate, wipes that fear away. He dips his head, kissing along the ridge of my wing. A gasp leaves me, tinged with surprise. No one has ever touched me there with such gentleness.

I reciprocate, guiding him to discard his coat, his battered shirt. The moonlight catches on the ridges of muscle across his chest, the faint silver scars from battles. My hand traces them, each one telling a story of loyalty, betrayal, survival. Under my fingertips, he trembles. The intimacy of it is a slow crescendo, each shared caress forging a deeper connection.

Our kisses grow languid and exploratory, fueled by a sweetness that sets my nerves tingling. He leans over me, mouth sliding down my collarbone, each breath sending goosebumps across my skin. I tilt my head back, eyes drifting shut as I focus on the warmth of his lips, the steady thump of my heart. An ache of emotion wells up—I never knew love could feel this tender, this safe. We’re exiles, yes, but in this hidden grove, we have each other.

I run my hands down his spine, feeling the slight ridge where wings meet flesh. He shivers at my touch, exhaling myname in a soft, broken whisper. My chest squeezes.We deserve this moment, free of fear or suspicion, free to claim each other. Gently, carefully, I urge him closer, our bodies aligning in slow, deliberate movements.

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