Page 122 of Veinblood
He snorts. “Where else would you be?” He gestures to the table. “Sit. Eat.”
“Join me?” I sit down, and wait for him to do the same.
“The mood in the city seems hopeful.” He sits oppositeme. “People are talking openly in the markets. There have been some small celebrations already.”
“What about disruptions? Fighting? Is anyone unhappy?”
“There doesn’t appear to be. The Authority soldiers who surrendered seem genuinely relieved not to be getting executed. Many served out of fear rather than conviction. Quite a lot of them were conscripted, or signed up because it was the only guaranteed way to feed their families.”
I nod, filing away the information. Fear is a powerful motivator, but it also makes for unreliable loyalty in either direction.
“Have we heard anything about Sereven?”
“From the reports I’ve been given, he escaped. Ellie had him cornered, but his commanders stormed the plaza and got him out. She tried to give chase and Corwin stopped her before she could leave the city unprotected.”
“As he should. She could have been captured or killed. He’ll try to regroup, though. Rally what loyal forces that remain to him, and establish a new stronghold. We’ve dealt him a serious blow by taking Ashenvale, but that won’t stop him.”
Varam nods. “I’ve arranged for you to meet with the Veinbloods and Veinwardens who fought yesterday. Your father’s old study has been cleared out. It looks like Sereven used it, and we’ve found a treasure trove of information about their plans and tactics. There might be something in there that will hint toward where he might be holed up.”
“I’m going to need fresh clothes. I have nothing but whatI’m wearing.” I glance toward the bedroom door. “Organize something more … suitable for both of us.”
The flicker of a smile crosses his face. “I will arrange that now.”
As he stands to leave, Ellie comes out of the bedroom, wrapped in a sheet. She takes the chair Varam vacated, and reaches out to take a slice of fruit.
“Varam is arranging some new clothes, and then we’re going to meet with the people you brought to Ashenvale,” I tell her. “I’d like to start with those who helped you. Is there anything I should know?”
“I think some of them have been waiting for this moment for their entire lives. Some were children when the Authority claimed they’d killed you. Others are older and remember when the Authority was still in its infancy.” She meets my eyes. “Your return means everything to them.” Her hand reaches out to cover mine. “There’s something else you need to know. One of the masters … Vorith. She’s the woman from our dreams. She said she was sending the dreams to guide us. Her Windvein abilities let her reach across distances through visions. She was trying to prepare us for what might be coming.”
No more than half an hour later, Varam returns with a group of people, both men and women. He directs the women to Ellie, while the two manservants and Varam accompany me back into the bedroom.
The clothes they’ve brought remind me of how I used to dress. Black material with silver threading that catches the light,cut in the formal style of Meridian nobility. The rich fabric reminds me, once again, of what I am. What I’ve always been.
The manservants work quickly and quietly, one adjusting the fit of the jacket while the other ensures the silver clasps are properly fastened. Through the partially open door, I can hear Ellie's protests from the main chamber.
“I can manage my own hair!”
“This really isn't necessary!”
Firm but patient responses from the women attending her follow each objection, their voices gentle but insistent. They're determined to present her properly, whether she cooperates or not. The sounds make me smile.
“She's not accustomed to formal preparation,” Varam says quietly as he adjusts the ceremonial blade at my hip.
“No.” I laugh at another muffled protest from the next room. “But she will learn.”
When the manservants step away, Varam comes to stand before me, a circlet of black metal inlaid with silver resting in his hand. He places it on my head, and for the first time in thirty years, I wear the Heir’s crown once again.
I turn to look at my reflection in the mirror. Varam moves up to stand behind me.
“My Vareth'el.” His voice is thick with emotion he rarely allows himself to show.
For a moment, we simply look at each other. This man who mourned me for twenty-seven years, who carried the burden of believing his prince was dead while continuing to serve thecause I left behind. Who never stopped fighting, never stopped hoping, even when hope seemed impossible.
His hand moves to his heart, but his eyes never leave mine. “Welcome home, my Lord.”
The manservants withdraw quietly, leaving us alone. From the main chamber, the voices have grown quieter, Ellie's protests replaced by murmured approval from the women attending her.
“Are you ready?” Varam straightens my collar with the same care he once took with my armor before battle.
