Page 75 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)
“I only heard it once.” She looks down, gathering her thoughts.
“Tell me.” Sacha’s tone makes it clear this isn’t a request.
Miradel takes a breath. “There were whispers …” Her fingers worry at one of her bangles.
“It must have been around twenty-four years ago. About a child Sereven sought personally. The child disappeared during transport to Blackvault for purging. The story goes that a group of Veinbloods ambushed the convoy, and took the child.”
The hush that falls over the room raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
“The child … its name was Elowen?” Sacha’s voice is soft.
Miradel nods. “Yes. The Authority killed entire villages searching for those Veinbloods afterward. I was in the southern territories then, but we heard ... terrible things. They weren’t hunting like soldiers.
They were hunting like frightened men. I don’t think they were ever found. Neither the Veinbloods nor the child.”
My heart picks up speed as I make the connection. I press my hands against the wall behind me as the floor shifts beneath my feet.
Twenty-four years ago. I’m twenty-seven now. I was found abandoned when I was three. And I was named Elowen—a name that made Sereven look like he’d seen a ghost at Blackstone Ridge.
It can’t be a coincidence. I want to speak up, to ask Sacha, but I don’t want to discuss my personal history in front of all these people. So I stay where I am, and keep silent, watching his profile. I trust that he’ll ask what we need to know.
“Is there anything else you remember? Any detail that might explain why Sereven would react with such fear upon hearing the name again?”
Miradel shakes her head. “Only that the Authority’s response seemed … excessive, even for them. They committed unusual resources to finding those responsible, far beyond what they’d typically allocate for such a small ambush.”
“Why would this particular child matter so much?” Telren asks, looking between Miradel and Sacha. “What makes a child worth such risk, such pursuit?”
“That’s something we need to discover. For now, I don’t need to remind you all that everything we’ve discussed here must go no further.
” He turns to Varam. “Ensure guard rotation is quietly increased, and send out scouts more often. I don’t think Stonehaven will be safe from the Authority for much longer. ”
The words are clearly a dismissal, and the Veinwardens file out quietly. The door swings shut, and their footsteps and voices fade down the passageway.
Once we’re alone, I stand up, crossing on unsteady legs to where Sacha stands. His eyes are distant, shadows playing across the sharp planes of his face.
“Sovereign?”
His head snaps around.
“You’re the rightful ruler of Meridian. Not the last remaining Veinblood, but a king? ”
“High Prince.”
I wait for more, but of course, there isn’t any.
“You’re royalty , Sacha. You have a crown, a throne, a kingdom?—”
" Had .” The word cuts through my rising anger. “I had those things.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It holds no relevance.”
“ No relevance? ” I stare at him. “You’re the High Prince of Meridian. How is that not relevant?”
“Because it changes nothing , Ellie.” His voice is quiet. “The Authority still rules. They still control Ashenvale. My people are still being hunted. The Veinbloods are dead. Whether you knew of my title or not doesn’t alter those facts.”
“It changes how I understand everything! Why they bow to you. Why your word is law. Why?—”
“Why what?” There’s a bite to his tone. “Why you should treat me differently?”
“I … no. That’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it?” Shadows swirl in his eyes when he looks at me. “In my experience, most people change how they behave when they learn about crowns. Even ones that no longer exist.”
“I’m not most people.”
“You’re right.” His voice softens a little. “You’re not.” He walks to the door and locks it. “Perhaps that’s exactly why Sereven reacted the way he did when he saw you.”
The transition catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
He turns to face me, and I can almost see the way pieces of a puzzle are connecting in his mind. “You said you were found when you were three. What is your age now?”
I suck in a deep breath, and let him change the subject. There will be time later to talk about crowns and titles.
“Twenty-seven.”
His nod is unsurprised.
“You think I could be this child?” The possibility seems both impossible and strangely inevitable. “That I was born here , and not in my world?” Not an unwanted visitor, but a returnee. Not an outsider, but something that belongs.
“It would explain Sereven’s reaction. His shock when he recognized you.”
The soft words do nothing to ease the vertigo I feel at the thought of this being the truth of where I came from.
I spin away, needing to pace while I process. Each step grounds me momentarily before the next thought sends my mind spinning again.
“But none of that explains how I ended up at a church in Chicago!”
“Unless it was the only way to truly hide you from Sereven. If he was hunting you personally, there isn’t a single place in Meridian that would have been safe enough for you.”
There’s something in his tone that suggests there’s a story there, but I don’t have the mental capacity to think about that right now. Not when my entire life history is tipping on its axis.
“But why ? Why would he hunt a child? What possible danger could I have been to him?”
“And that’s the real question, isn’t it? Do you remember anything from before you were found in the church? Do you remember being found?”
I try to think back to my earliest memories, searching for anything that might offer a clue. The group home in Chicago. The series of families that thought about taking me home, but ultimately didn’t. The silver bracelet.
That memory connects to something else. Not the bracelet itself, but my reaction to the storm that night.
While the other children had cowered in fear as lightning split the sky, I’d been transfixed.
I’d felt like the storm was calling to me.
The crashing thunder sounded like my name, the lightning flashes like signals meant only for me.
“What if my connection to storms began before I came here?” I whisper. “What if that power has always been there, waiting for me?”
The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying. If it’s true, it means I’ve always belonged to this world in some way, that my connection to it runs deeper than I could have ever imagined. I’m not an accidental visitor, but a lost daughter, returning to a home I never knew I had.
“What does this mean for me?”
“It means that Sereven has feared your return for twenty-four years, and now that fear has been realized.”
“But why? Why would my return frighten him?”
He sighs. “I don’t know. We need more information, and at the moment our resources are limited.”
“Right now, I’ll take anything I can get!” The words burst from me as I pace away, silver light pulsing beneath my skin in time with my agitation. My reflection catches in a polished metal surface again. Brown eyes flecked with unnatural silver, face too thin, a stranger looking back at me.
He catches my arm as I walk past him, and forces me to stop. “One thing is certain. If your presence here is as important as Sereven’s reaction suggests, then he’s not going to stop until he finds you again.”
“I’m not afraid of him!” I’m surprised to realize that I mean it. After everything I’ve survived since arriving in this world—the tower, the Authority, Ashenvale, nearly losing Sacha—fear seems like a distant, almost irrelevant emotion. Something I’ve moved beyond.
“But you should be.” His voice is quiet. “Maybe not for yourself, but for what he might do to anyone who protects you. To anyone who stands between him and whatever it is you represent.”
His words send a chill through me. I hadn’t considered that aspect—that if Sereven is desperate to find me, he might bring the full force of the Authority down on Stonehaven. On Varam, Mira, and the others who have shown me kindness.
I lift my chin. If I am what they sought to destroy, there must be a reason. If I am what Sereven fears, there must be power in that.
“We need to act first. We need to find out why he fears me, and use that against him.”