Page 119 of Veinblood
“Philosophical Treatises on the Nature of Power.” His fingers hover over the cover of the book without actually touching it. “I was reading this the night before we had to flee the city.”
The night his world ended. The last normal evening before everything changed, before betrayal and war tore his life apart.
I want to say something, but I bite my lip and force myself to silence while he moves around the room.
A desk against a wall holds neat stacks of papers, the top one bearing an unbroken seal. Bookshelves line the walls, reminding me of his quarters in Stonehaven, filled with volumes on history, strategy, philosophy, and poetry. They speak of a lifetime of learning, of a mind that hungered for knowledge even in childhood, shaping the man he would become. A sword rack stands empty, the weapons it once held gone—claimed by the Authority or hidden away by whoever has been caring for these rooms.
Someone has been looking after these quarters. Everything has been kept exactly as he left it. As though they’ve been waiting for its owner to return … which is unlikely since Sereven ruled from the Spire, and I doubt he would have wanted anything of his brothers kept intact.
And that raises questions aboutwholooked after these rooms … and why?
Sacha disappears through a door on the opposite side of the room. I follow him, letting my fingers trail over chairs and tables as I pass, thinking about the younger man who must have lived here. How much different was he to the Sacha I know? Mira and Varam have shared stories, but even those were about a man at war, not the one who was being raised to rule.
When I walk through the door, I find him standing motionless in a bedroom, staring at the bed. The covers are clean and crisp, pillows arranged with the kind of care that speaks of regular attention. The smell of freshly washed linen fills the air.
The stillness in him is so complete it’s almost frightening. This isn’t the controlled calm I’m used to seeing, but something closer to shock.
When he does finally move, it’s to touch the edge of the bed frame, his fingers trailing along the carved wood with a gentleness that suggests he’s expecting it to disintegrate under his touch. The gesture is so vulnerable, so unlike the controlled man I know, that it makes my heart ache.
I can’t bear the silence any longer. “Sacha?”
He turns at the sound of my voice and I catch a quick glimpse of raw emotion before he wipes it away—gratitude, grief, and exhaustion.
“I never thought I’d stand in these rooms again.” His expression shifts, and the iron control he’s been holding onto begins to crack. Underneath it, I don’t see the manipulative prisoner, or the strategic commander, or even the shadow-wielding prince, but a man who has been given something precious that he thought was lost forever.
“You gave this back to me.Allof it. The city. The throne. The people I thought were lost forever.”
“No.” I shake my head, stepping closer to him. “Wedid it. All of us.”
“It was you who convinced them to fight. Without you, they would have remained hidden. Eventually the Authority would have discovered them, and destroyed them one by one.” He steps closer, one hand lifting to trace the line of my jaw with his fingers. “I thought I’d lost you, too.” His voice turns rough. “When I felt your fear, when I knew you were in danger and I was too far away to help—I’ve never known terror like that. The thought that I might never see you again, that you might die believing I abandoned you …”
I silence him by pressing my lips to his.
The kiss is different from others we’ve shared. It tastes of homecoming and promises, of recognition and acceptance. It tastes of the man who trusted me enough to let me into his heart, who showed me magic, and gave me purpose, and made me understand what it means to belong somewhere.
His arms come around me, pulling me closer, and it almost seems like my touch is drawing the tension out of his body.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, and in the golden light streaming through the windows, those black eyes that I once thought held nothing but cold distance look warm.
“Stay with me. Not just until the war is done.Stay.”
Stay in this world that has become mine through choice rather than accident. Stay beside a man whose past is soaked in blood and whose future hangs in the balance of forces outside of our control. Stay and help rebuild something that was shattered before I was even born.
I think about the fierce satisfaction I felt when I saw Veinblood banners flying from the Spire. About the way his hands fit around my waist like they are meant to be there. About how right it felt to stand beside him in the throne room and know that I helped give him back a piece of what was stolen. About the family I’ve found in Varam and Mira, in Jorana and Corwin, and all the others who have chosen to fight alongside us.
“Yes,” I breathe against his lips. “Of course I’ll stay.”
He kisses me again, his hands framing my face, holding me as though I’m something precious, something worth protecting, something worth living for. The realization rocks me. Somewhere along the way I stopped being the lost woman, the useful tool, the minor inconvenience and became something else entirely. His partner, his anchor, his equal in all the ways that matter.
“What happens next?” The question comes out soft, but I need to know. We’ve won this battle, but the war is far from over.
His head lifts, and his thumb brushes over my lips in a movethat is both soothing and possessive. “Now we rebuild. The Authority still controls most of Meridian, and Sereven may be wounded, but he’ll be making plans. We have Ashenvale, but one city cannot stand alone.”
“Other places will come to join us, surely?”
“Some will. Others will need convincing that open rebellion is safer than hiding.” His hand drops and his fingers find mine, drawing me across the room to the bed. “It won’t be easy. There will be more battles, more losses. Some nights we will wonder if what we’re fighting for is worth the cost.” There’s something different in his voice. Hope. Real, tangible hope for the first time since I’ve known him.
There are challenges ahead. New battles, new choices that will determine the fate of everyone who believes in freedom over control. But for now, in this moment, we have reclaimed something precious. We’ve won back a city, and a throne, and a room full of memories, but more than that, we’ve secured the possibility of a future worth fighting for.
