Page 43 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)

When we finally reach the entrance, a dozen fighters are already waiting, stances tense, faces grim.

They’ve heard, then. Word of our approach, of my condition, has reached them as intended.

“Lord Torran,” one whispers, voice thick with emotion when they see me on the stretcher.

The deception is working. Eyes widen at my condition, shock and dismay written across faces.

Some look away, unable to bear the sight of what the Authority did to their Vareth’el.

Others stare with the haunted expressions of those who have seen too much death to believe in miracles.

I note each reaction, sorting them into categories of suspicion.

“We didn’t believe it when the scouts reported …” An older woman steps forward, voice fading as she takes in the extent of my injuries. “The Vareth’el returns.” Her words carry both reverence and grief.

“Get Lisandra,” Varam orders once we’ve passed through the entrance and into the passageway.

Word spreads ahead of us as we move deeper into the mountain stronghold. Veinwardens and families line the passageways, expressions shifting from hope to horror as they see what seems to be my broken form. Some make warding gestures, others bow their heads, already mourning my upcoming death.

I catch snippets of muttered conversations as we pass.

“... worse than we heard …”

“... how did he survive the journey …”

“... doubt he’ll last the night …”

Each reaction confirms the deception is working. I focus on keeping every reaction honest, pained breaths, wincing every time the stretcher shifts, an unfocused gaze that passes over concerned faces without any hint of recognition.

The passageway opens up into the main cavern, lightstones casting long shadows across the floor. Activity stops when we enter, conversations dying mid-sentence. The stretcher moves through the now-silent space.

I focus on holding the illusion. One eye remains closed, returned to the swollen state it had been in before healing through Voidcraft. The other I keep half-lidded, unfocused, as if I’m struggling to stay conscious.

Ellie’s presence beside me adds credibility to the lie.

Her genuine concern during the days when I really was dying has put fine lines into her face that she can’t fake, shadows beneath her eyes from sleepless nights, and tension in her shoulders from constant vigilance.

Even though there is no longer any concern for my health, her body remembers how it felt to be walking beside death.

Movement at the far side of the cavern draws everyone’s attention away from me briefly.

Lisandra comes out of the passageway, parting the crowd as she strides toward us.

Behind her, the other Veinwarden leaders follow, trailed by healers carrying supplies, prepared for what they believe will be a desperate fight against my potential death.

I watch through half-lidded eyes as she approaches, letting my awareness dip into the shadows beneath the floor, between feet, under tables, where I can catch details that physical sight might miss.

Whispers reach me through the darkness.

“The prophecy said …”

“If Sereven did this …”

Each reaction tells its own story. Shock, horror, concern on most faces, calculation on some, relief carefully hidden on at least one.

I understand the relief. My initial return meant that the time for hidden survival was over, and war was coming.

Now, my condition might mean a return to the status quo of staying hidden away.

For some, that’s preferable over fighting for more.

Lisandra reaches us first, eyes widening as she takes in my condition.

The other Veinwardens stop behind her, their expressions just as horrified when they get a close-up view of the torture I’ve suffered.

Telren’s gaze focuses on my chest where the Authority brand appears infected, Mira’s hand moves to the knife at her belt.

“Sacha.” Lisandra’s voice is shocked, formal address forgotten in the face of what she’s seeing. “What have they done to you?”

She turns immediately to the healers. “Get him to his quarters. Now. I want guards posted. No one enters without my direct permission.”

As we move forward, I allow a pained sound to escape, my hand reaching weakly for Ellie. She grasps it immediately, falling into her assigned role without hesitation.

“Don’t leave,” I whisper.

“Never.” The emotion in that single word is completely real.

We continue through the tunnels toward my quarters, the stretcher now surrounded by guards and healers.

Lisandra walks ahead, issuing orders with the confidence of someone accustomed to crisis situations.

Her reactions seem completely genuine—concern for the Vareth’el returned from torture, determination to save what might be unsalvageable.

I continue watching those around us during the journey, noting who positions themselves closest to the stretcher, who keeps their distance, who talks to whom in low voices.

The traitor will be planning now, adjusting to my unexpected return, planning their next move.

Their behavior may reveal nothing immediately, but I’m confident a pattern will show itself over time.

When we reach my quarters, the space is already prepared.

Lisandra must have sent orders in advance, when she first realized someone was hurt.

Fresh bedding, healing supplies, and warm water all wait inside my bedchamber.

The fighters who traveled with me transfer me from stretcher to bed, careful to behave as though any jostling might push me beyond recovery.

“Everyone out,” I rasp weakly as one of the healers moves forward. “Except Ellie and Varam.”

Lisandra frowns. “You need healers?—”

“No one … touch me.” I add a pained cough for added effect. “Shadow and Voidcraft … keeping infection contained. Foreign touch … breaks concentration.”

The healer looks uncertain, her hands already reaching for her supplies. “Lord Torran, I need to clean the wounds properly. The infection?—”

“Nearly killed me already. Only shadows … holding it back. Trust me …”

The request serves multiple purposes beyond preserving the lie. It establishes a boundary that will prevent any accidental discovery of my healed state. It also reinforces the narrative that my condition is critical, despite surviving this far. And most importantly, it creates space for privacy.

Lisandra studies my face for a long moment, then nods. “Very well. Ilystra, leave your supplies with Ellie, in case she needs them.”

The healer clearly wants to protest by the way her eyes dart from Lisandra to Ellie to me, then back to Lisandra, but she respects the chain of command.

“I’ll come back in the morning.” She arranges her medicines on the bedside table. “These need to be applied every few hours. The fever must be brought under control.”

I hold the appearance of semi-consciousness until the room has emptied of everyone but Ellie and Varam, then I send out my awareness to the passageway outside, noting who lingers outside the door, who questions the departing healers, and who carries news through the rest of Stonehaven.

Once I’m certain no one is going to come back in, I drop the illusion. My breathing returns to normal, my expression sharpens from fevered confusion to alert, and I sit up.

“That was too close,” Ellie whispers. “Ilystra would have seen through the illusion if she’d unwrapped any of those bandages.”

“She’s persistent. We’ll need to keep strict control over anyone who enters my quarters until I’m ready to let everyone know I’m healed.”

Varam leaves the bedchamber, and I hear the lock being turned in the main door before he comes back. “I’ve sent the team who came with us to rest, but asked four to remain outside as guards. They’ll rotate every four hours. I’ve also told them no one enters without me, Mira, or Ellie present.”

“Good.” I rise from the bed, and am about to walk into the main chamber when Ellie’s voice stops me.

“You should put some clothes on if you’re planning to walk around.”

When I look at her, her eyes are staring down at the ground, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Not the point.” The words come out as a low mutter.

Suppressing a smile, I change direction and cross to the dresser, selecting a tunic and pants and pulling them on quickly.

“Better?”

She glances up at me. “Yes.”

I laugh softly, and leave the bedchamber, crossing straight to the maps on the wall, studying Stonehaven’s layout.

“Lisandra and the others are going to have questions,” I tell Varam. “They’re going to want details of the rescue. How you found me, my condition during transport, what I might have revealed under torture.”

“What should I tell them?”

“The truth, mostly. You ambushed the convoy, found me near death, and barely managed to keep me alive during the journey. As for what I revealed … you don’t know. Perhaps hint that Sereven spoke freely, believing I was too far gone to remember or repeat his words.”

Varam’s eyes narrow. “Suggesting you have information that might identify our traitor.”

“Exactly. Watch their reactions. Note who becomes defensive, who asks for specifics, and who tries to steer the conversation elsewhere.”

“Do you think the traitor is one of the Veinwarden leaders?” Ellie asks.

“Yes. Sereven will have no use for someone who doesn’t have access to the information he needs. Whoever it is, they will attempt to verify what they’ve learned.”

“And when they do?”

I lift my head, and meet her gaze. “When they do, we’ll have them.”

A soft knock at the door interrupts our conversation. Varam waits, and when the knock repeats, he unlocks the door and looks out. When he sees who it is, he steps back to allow Mira inside.

“Lisandra has called a meeting,” she reports after the door closes. “She’s sent me for Varam. They want a full report about what happened at Glassfall Gap.”

I nod. “I’ve told Varam to tell them the truth about everything except my recovery. Let them believe I’m dying.”

“And the traitor?” Mira asks.

“I’m sure they’re already wondering how I survived long enough to return.

” I study the map of Stonehaven and its surroundings, mentally ticking off places where someone might attempt to send messages beyond Stonehaven’s walls.

“They’ll need to report my return to Sereven.

Watch patrol routes, especially near the northeastern passes.

” I turn back to face Mira and Varam. “Report back once you’re done. Watch everyone closely.”

Their hands fist against their chests, and they turn toward the door.

“Did you pick up anything from people’s reactions?” Ellie asks once Varam and Mira leave.

“Nothing that I didn’t expect to see. Shock. Concern. Horror at my apparent condition.”

“But no obvious signs of who could be the traitor?”

“Genuine reactions can mask guilt. Just because they’ve betrayed us, it doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be shocked to see the state I arrived in.

Traitors rarely announce themselves through obvious tells.

They compartmentalize, separate the betrayal from their daily identity.

Someone in Stonehaven has betrayed us twice that we know of. I’ll find out who it is soon enough.”

“How?” She joins me in front of the maps. “If they’ve been careful enough to have never been suspected for all this time, why will that change now?”

“They’ve never been under this level of scrutiny before.

My return changes everything. They thought I was captured or dead.

Now they have to recalculate, adjust their approach, and potentially rush communications that would have otherwise been carefully timed.

Every betrayal creates patterns. Every traitor leaves traces.

We just need to watch long enough to identify them. ”

“Do you think they’re still here? Or would they leave after finding out the rescue at Glassfall Gap was successful? Do you think they might know they’ve been discovered?”

“No, they’re here.” I’m confident of that. “Sereven would demand continued information, especially now. A traitor who abandons their post becomes useless … and the Authority doesn’t tolerate uselessness.”

“So, they’re trapped. Caught between Sereven’s demands and the risk of discovery.”

“Precisely. Which will make them desperate … and desperation creates opportunity.” I pause and turn to look at her. “The most valuable information they could provide now is confirmation of my condition. Sereven will want to know if I survived the rescue, and whether I’m dying or will heal.”

“Then they’ll try to check on you themselves?”

“Yes. They’ll do whatever they can to get inside this room to see me.”

“What do we do in the meantime?”

“We wait for Varam or Mira to return and tell us what happened at the meeting.”

It isn’t a long wait. Varam returns a little after midnight, slipping through the door during a guard change. His expression confirms successful deception at the meeting, before he says anything.

“They believe you’re dying,” he reports.

“And reactions to the suggestion that Sereven might have let slip information during my torture?”

“Mixed. Most seemed concerned. Lisandra wanted to know if it was anything that could help Stonehaven. Telren suggested your memory might be compromised by trauma and fever.”

I turn away from the maps, and pour a cup of water from the pitcher on the table.

“Then the trap is set. Now we wait, watch, and listen. Somewhere in these tunnels, someone is planning their next move. Someone who betrayed me twice, and will try again.”

Someone who doesn’t realize that the broken, dying man they expect to find is gone … replaced by something far more dangerous.

Something that doesn’t forgive.