Page 111 of Veinblood
I chose love over power. I chose Sacha over everything. And the thought dislodges the memory of something I’d forgotten about.
In the dreams Vorith sent me, she told me she had chosen love and lost everything. Was that a warning about the future? Is that what will happen? What if by refusing Sereven’s offer and choosing my feelings for Sacha, I’ve doomed us all?
Something of my thoughts must show on my face, because Vorith leans forward.
“What is troubling you?”
I rest the cup on my lap, and meet her gaze. “In my dreams, you told me you chose love and lost everything. What did you mean?”
She’s quiet for a long moment. I’m about to repeat my question when she takes in a breath, and begins to talk.
“When the Authority first began to rise, I saw the signs early. The growing suspicion, the rhetoric against our kind, the way fear was being weaponized. I had opportunities to act, to draw the attention of the Windvein leaders.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I was young and foolish. I chose to believe in love instead, in human goodness, in the bonds of community we’d built with non-Veinbloods. I chose faith over action.” Her voice grows quieter. “I told myself that if we just continued to show people that we weren’t threats, that our powers would never be usedagainst them, they’d see reason. That love and understanding would overrule fear and rumor.
“By the time I realized how naive I’d been, it was too late. The networks that could have warned people were being destroyed, and my friends were dead. I chose faith in humanity over actions that might have saved lives.” The pain and guilt in her voice is clear. “That choice cost everything. My people, my home, my family. All gone because I believed the love of our community would be enough.”
What if I’m making the same mistake she did? What if love isn’t enough?
“Does that mean I’m going to lose everything too?”
“What do you mean?”
“He offered me power,” I say quietly. “He told me that I could build a new world, instead of restoring the old.”
Vorith’s lips part. “He asked you to betray the Vareth’el?”
“He wanted me to choose power over love. He made it sound so reasonable.” Shame burns through my veins. “There was a moment where I actually considered his offer.”
“But you refused him.”
“Because the price was abandoning everything that makes me who I am … and killing Sacha. But you chose love and the Authority won anyway. Is that what will happen now? Is that what you were warning me about?”
“No! The love I chose was passive. I hoped others would be better than they were without any action on my part. Your love? That is active. You’re fighting for the future you want.”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
“Ellie, you refused him. Do you know what that tells me? It tells me that you understand something I took years to learn. That real strength isn’t about the power you wield, it’s about knowing what you’re willing to sacrifice. Real love doesn’t ask you to surrender who you are. It asks you to become more than you thought you were capable of. You chose love over ambition, loyalty over control. That’s wisdom, not weakness.”
When Sereven painted visions of what I could become, I chose what I wanted instead. I chose the man who sees me as more than what I can be used for. I chose the future we could build together over the power I could wield alone.
A faint pulse of warmth over my arms makes me blink. It happens again, a third time, and then Sacha’s presence returns, washing through me.
My breath catches.
The bond is back. But not only that?—
“Sacha! He’s here!” I throw myself out of the bed, legs nearly buckling as my feet hit the floor. The room spins violently, but I don’t care. He’s alive. And he’s close by.
“Elowen, wait!” Vorith starts, but I’m already heading for the door.
“I need to find him. I need to—” I look down and realize I’m wearing nothing but a thin nightdress. Heat floods my cheeks. “Oh! I need to get dressed first.”
“You need to sit down.” Vorith’s voice is firm. “You can barely stand.”
“I don’t care.” I spin around, gritting my teeth against thenausea that rises, searching around the unfamiliar room. “Where are my clothes? What did you do with them?”
