Page 44

The crowd stirs, some responding with pity for the rescued, others casting uncertain glances at me.

My stomach knots, recalling that half these onlookers might want me dead.

I steel myself, lifting my chin. No more hiding.

I see one council member’s face twist with disgust, another with anxious calculation. My heart races.

Brinda’s expression softens marginally as she takes in the captives’ condition. Then she fixes Vaelorian with a demanding look. “We’ll need to hear their testimony before the Council. The threat is real—Xathien’s plan to weaponize essence must be exposed.”

He nods, voice clipped. “We must move fast. The dark elves gather an army to capture Valeria. If we don’t unite Vrakken Houses soon, we risk open war.”

A murmur of alarm ripples. Brinda’s lips press thin. “Then we’ll convene an emergency session. And the half-blood—” She glances at me. “She’ll stand witness.”

My breath hitches. Stand witness or stand trial? The unspoken tension weighs heavily. I note the way certain council members exchange looks, measuring how best to exploit or condemn me. Vaelorian’s posture turns rigid beside me, wings shifting. I sense his protective rage simmering.

Helrath breaks the silence. “The captives need medical attention. Let’s move them inside.”

Brinda nods, gesturing for the guards to escort the freed Vrakken away. The courtyard buzzes with activity, but a pocket of hush lingers around me, Vaelorian, and the Council members eyeing us warily.

One councilor steps forward, robes dragging on the stone. “This is a precarious time for House Draeven,” he intones. “We must weigh the cost of protecting a half-blood who draws the dark elves’ wrath.”

Anger flares in me, but Vaelorian speaks before I do. “We protect her because she’s the key to defeating Xathien. These captives prove the dark elves’ plot. You see the bigger threat?”

The councilor’s gaze flicks my way, then to Vaelorian, uncertainty etched in his features. “We shall debate it in the Council chamber.”

I stand stiffly, fists clenched. They treat me like a commodity. Yet I know I must face them if we’re to rally an army in time. Fear twists in my gut, but beneath it, a flame of defiance burns. I won’t cower. I’m sick of cowering.

Vaelorian turns to me, voice low. “Rest for now, gather your strength. The Council meeting convenes at nightfall. We present our case then.”

I exhale shakily. “All right.”

He dips his head. A fleeting concern shadows his expression. “I’ll ensure you’re not disturbed. Try not to worry about the hearing.”

A short laugh escapes me, humorless. “Too late.” Still, I appreciate his intent. My life and existence hang in the balance, as does the destiny of House Draeven in the face of a dark elf invasion.

Hours later, I settle into a small suite near the fortress’s rear courtyard, assigned by Helrath for privacy.

The weight of the approaching Council session presses on me.

My head spins with the threat of an entire dark elf army mobilizing to snatch me, the Vrakken Council’s hostility, and the knowledge that my presence might tilt the war’s outcome.

I pace the room, replaying Helrath’s words and Vaelorian’s vow to shield me. He can’t fight them all if they decide to sacrifice me. My nails bite into my palms. But if I flee, I condemn them to facing Xathien alone—and risk being captured on the run anyway.

Torn between fury at a world that wants me dead for existing and the fragile hope that House Draeven might still stand with me, I sink onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. My chest constricts. I’ve never felt so helpless or so important at once.

A faint knock rouses me. I stand, cautious. “Yes?”

The door creaks open to reveal one of the rescued Vrakken—a younger man, bruised and haunted-looking. He bows awkwardly. “My lady. I… I wanted to thank you. We heard you risked everything to confirm our presence in that caravan.”

Tears sting my eyes at the raw gratitude in his voice. They view me as a savior of sorts. “You don’t owe me thanks,” I manage. “I just—did what was right.”

He lowers his gaze. “Still. If there’s anything I can do… I owe you my life.” His voice wobbles with emotion. “Please, don’t let the Council discard you. We need you. The world needs you.”

My breath catches. They need me. The notion resonates, feeding an ember of courage. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I’ll do my best.”

He departs, leaving me alone again. But his words echo in the hush: We need you.

This battered Vrakken, once a victim of the dark elves, sees me as hope.

That flips my fear into a fierce resolve: I’m done letting them chase me into corners.

If half the world wants me dead, I’ll fight to prove they can’t break me. Not the dark elves, not the Council.

I stare at the reflection in the room’s small mirror, repeating the thought: They will not break me.

The hours tick by, each breath a step closer to facing the Council’s scrutiny.

My hands tremble at the idea of them labeling me an abomination.

Yet my heart steels with a grim vow. I’ll stand my ground.

If they want me dead, they’ll have to see me first—and see the future I represent.

At last, a guard summons me: the Council is ready.

This is it. With a final inhale, I sweep from the suite, meeting the guard’s stiff bow.

My fate and of House Draeven collide tonight.

Fear still hammers in my veins, but so does anger.

I clench my jaw, striding down the corridor toward the Council chamber, prepared to face every condemnation they hurl my way.