Page 60 of Veinblood
The conversation stops, and they turn to look at me. My heart rate increases tenfold. The tension in the room is thick enough to taste. And I can’t stop myself from glancing at the windows and door, expecting soldiers to rush in at any second.
“What’s going on?”
Masha looks at me, then at Jorana. “Show her.”
The simple words twist my stomach into knots.
Corwin’s hand reaches inside his cloak, and I brace myself, waiting for attack. Power surges through my veins, lighting up my skin, but all he does is take out a rolled up sheet of parchment and hands it to me.
The silver glow fades, but my nerves remain on edge. I takethe parchment from him with shaking fingers. The first thing I see is the Authority’s seal at the top. My heart attempts to break free from my chest as I unroll it to read the words.
By order of High Commander Sereven of the Authority, substantial rewards are offered for information leading to the capture of the Shadowvein Lord and the woman traveling with him.
Sacha Torran. Male. Enemy of the Authority. Shadowvein. Dangerous. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Height approximately six feet three.
Elowen. No last name. Female with silver and brown hair, traveling with him. Height approximately five and a half feet. Suspected Veinblood abilities. Dangerous.
Gold reward for information leading to capture. Death penalty for anyone caught harboring these fugitives. Report any sightings immediately to your local Authority garrison.
My mouth turns dry as I read the words, then again … and a third time. But they don’t change. What’s worse is that there are sketches that are uncomfortably accurate.
Of course they are.
The sketch of Sacha captures the sharp angles of his face—the arrogance of his expression, the dark hair, and his eyes when they’re black with shadows. But it’s my own image that chills me. The artist has rendered my features with enough detail that anyone who sees this proclamation would recognize me instantly if I cross their path.
Sereven saw me. He knows exactly what I look like. My face is now known throughout the entire city. Every person who seesme could turn me in for that gold. I can’t hide the silver in my hair, or the changes to my eyes. It’s all there for anyone to see.
Every person I pass on the street is now a potential threat. Every child, every beggar could be studying my face, and comparing it to the image on this parchment. The false safety I’ve felt in Masha’s house evaporates.
The reward amount makes my hands shake. It's more money than most people see in years. Enough to change someone's entire life. How many desperate families would look at that sum and decide the risk is worth it? How many Authority loyalists would see it as their duty to turn me in?
The death penalty for harboring us makes everything worse. Anyone who helps me, anyone who even looks the other way, faces execution if they're caught. I've brought that danger to Masha's door simply by being here.
“These have been posted throughout the city. On every street corner. In every market square. And on the door of every public building,” Corwin says.
“The reward is enough to change a family’s life forever.” Masha’s voice is quiet. “Anyone seen in the company of someone matching those descriptions will be stopped and held.”
My head snaps up, and I pull my eyes away from the proclamation to search her out.
“Are you going to claim it?” I’m not sure what I’m going to do if she says yes. There are three of them, and one of me. If I use my powers, it’ll be seen. If I try to run, someone will see me.But my fingers curl, and I reach for the mist stalker, preparing to send it out to protect me.
The question hangs in the air between us. I watch Masha's face carefully, searching for any sign of what she's thinking. The woman who welcomed me, who fed me and gave me shelter, now holds my life in her hands. One word from her could bring soldiers to this door.
“Answer with truth. Were you with him?”
“That says I was.”
“But that isn’t what I asked. Is he the one you spoke about when you first arrived? Is the Vareth’el the one you’re trying to reach?”
My eyes dart to the door behind Corwin, then back to Masha.
I lick my lips, trying to ease the dryness. “Yes.” The word comes out barely above a whisper, but it might as well be a shout for the reaction it provokes. The silence that follows stretches long enough for me to hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears. And then Masha sinks down onto a chair beside the table.
“For twenty-seven years we believed he was dead. And she stands here as proof that he lives.” The way she says it, the reverence in her voice, calms my racing heart.
I haven’t made a mistake. They really are Veinwardens. People who have spent decades believing their High Prince was dead. And now they’re looking at someone who was actually with him. Who saw him fight, witnessed him using his powers, who knows he’s real and not a memory to be whispered about.
The way they’re looking at me makes me want to shrinkback into the bedroom. I’m just one person, but to them I represent something much larger.
