Page 130 of Veinblood
She sweeps down into a graceful curtsy that suggests Mira’s preparations included more than just clothing. “My Vareth’el.”
She looks every inch the consort of a ruler, whether she’s aware of it or not.
Extending my arm, I close the distance between us, and she places her hand on my forearm. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
I guide her toward the throne room’s entrance. The guards stationed at the door step forward in unison, grasping the heavy iron handles. A heartbeat later, the doors swing open. Varam moves ahead of us, his voice carrying clearly through the vaulted room.
“Lords and Ladies of the Veinblood houses. Veinwardens of Meridian. I present to you your Vareth’el et’Varin Sacha Torran, rightful High Prince of Meridian, returned to claim his throne.”
The formal words echo off the walls, carrying the weight of over thirty years of exile and struggle. I step forward, drawingEllie along with me, and move through the crowd toward the throne. Faces blur as we walk past. Some old, who lived through the purges and rise of the Authority. Others are younger, people who grew to adulthood when the world had changed, and only know me through stories and legends. All of them watch as we pass with expressions that combine reverence and hope.
The throne rises ahead, its black stone absorbing the light around it. For a moment, I pause, images of my father sitting there overlaying my vision. Now it waits for me to claim what was lost.
I reach the dais and turn to face the crowd. Ellie stands beside me, her presence both support and a reminder of how much has changed. How muchI’vechanged since I began this journey by fleeing Ashenvale in the dead of night with the brother I would never have believed would be the one who would eventually betray me.
“More than thirty years ago, the Authority sought to eradicate Veinblood legacy from Meridian’s history.” My voice carries to every corner of the room. “They burned our homes, alienated our allies, scattered our families, and eventually claimed our bloodlines were extinct.”
Whispers rise from the crowd, voices recognizing shared pain and acknowledging losses that we can never recover from.
“They were wrong. We survived. Weendured. And we never stopped fighting for the right to return home. Today, we reclaim not just this city, but our rightful place in Meridian’s future.”
Cheers ring out, but I raise my hand for silence.
“Sereven and the Authority’s reign of terror ends here.” I turn to face the throne, stepping forward to place my palms on the armrests. The stone is warm under my touch, as though it responds to the magic that flows through my veins. For a heartbeat, I imagine I can sense the presence of every Shadowvein High Prince who sat here before me—their memories, their struggles, their triumphs and failures … all absorbed into the shadowstone itself.
Then I sit.
From this vantage point, the crowd before me looks different. They’re no longer just allies and supporters, they’re my subjects. People whose lives and futures depend on the decisions I will make from this seat.
Mira moves to Ellie’s side, subtly guiding her with a gentle touch to stand at my right hand beside the throne. Then Varam steps forward, carrying a crown on a cushion of black velvet.
“By right of birth, by strength of arm, by the will of the Veinblood houses, I formally crown you Telvareth Sacha Torran, High Prince of Meridian, rightful ruler of this realm.”
He places the crown on my head, and the crowd erupts into cheers and applause. I stand and bow, my mind is already moving ahead to what comes next. Raising my hand, shadows flow from my fingertips.
“Vel’tar neth morvain,” I whisper.The shadows twist and bend, until they form a delicate circlet of shadowstone threaded with veins of deep purple. Small points of silver light spark to life within the dark material, concentrated lightning held inshadow-forged metal. The room falls into an awed silence as I craft it before their eyes.
Standing, I turn to Ellie and hold out one hand. Confusion flickers across her face, but she places her fingers in mine, and I draw her forward until she’s standing in front of me.
“Kneel.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Kneel.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. I lift an eyebrow. I could explain what is happening, but I know her. If I tell her my plan, she’ll push back. So, instead, I wait.
For half a second, I’m convinced she’s going to argue about it, then she slowly lowers herself onto her knees, her gown pooling around her.
I raise the circlet. “You who stand here, you witnessed the liberation of this city. You saw who was responsible for the assault that broke Authority control. You saw who commanded the Veinbloods and Veinwardens who retook Ashenvale. Now I ask you to witness this.”
I hold the circlet between both hands above Ellie’s head. “By the strength of your courage, by the power of your storm, by the bond that unites us and as decreed by prophecy.” I lower the circlet onto her hair. “I name you Varel et’Arvath, Elowen, High Consort of Meridian.”
Ellie gasps, one hand flying to her temple as the circlet settles into place with a resonance that seems to echo through the room itself.
Shadow and silver light pulse from both our forms, visible to everyone present. The stillness that follows is absolute. No one moves. No one speaks. I’m not entirely sure anyone is breathing.
