Page 86 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)

As the High Prince, as the Shadowvein Lord, as the Vareth’el, I am the weapon, the shield, the sacrifice when required. That was the truth I accepted a long time ago.

But for the first time, I’m not sure it’s about necessity anymore.

I’ve said it so many times—the people before myself, giving my life for the cause—it feels like instinct, like fact carved into the bedrock of who I am.

The mantra that kept me sane through isolation and torture. The truth that gave meaning to loss.

But it isn’t instinct that has my throat tight. It isn’t duty that holds the words back. It isn’t even the weight of leadership or the burden of prophecy.

It’s her .

Ellie. Stormvein. My Mel’shira. The woman from another world who shattered my prison and then proceeded to dismantle every wall I’ve built around myself.

The woman who healed me when Sereven’s torture had left me broken beyond repair.

The woman who sees me not as a weapon or a symbol, but as something worthy of protection.

If the choice came down to one of us, if it was her life or mine hanging in the balance, I already know what I’d do. What I would choose without hesitation or regret.

And it wouldn’t be for my people.

It wouldn’t be for the Veinwardens who have waited faithfully for my return.

It wouldn’t be for anything I was raised to serve.

It would be for her. Only her.

And I don’t know what to do with that revelation.

It threatens the foundations of everything I’ve built my existence upon.

Because my life was never supposed to matter more than the outcome.

My survival was never the priority, only what I could achieve, what I could represent, what I could sacrifice.

That clarity, that ruthless simplicity, was the only thing that ever made the weight bearable.

Now it’s not simple anymore. Now there’s something I value more than victory.

Someone I value more.

“I promise to prioritize survival. For both of us.”

It’s the closest to the truth I can give her. It isn’t the absolute vow she wants, but it’s more than I’ve ever given to anyone.

She isn’t happy with my answer. I can see it in the slight furrowing of her brow, the tightening of her lips. But she doesn’t say anything, and I don’t fill the silence.

I can’t .

Words feel inadequate for what passes between us in this moment. This acknowledgement of something that goes beyond duty, and defies definition.

The night wraps around us, the stars overhead bearing silent witness to my unspoken words. In the distance, one of the horses stamps restlessly, breaking the stillness.

“I don’t think about going back anymore.” The change in topic throws me for a second. “To Earth. To Chicago.”

“Because of what we’ve learned about your possible origin?” I’m grateful for the redirection.

“A little. But also because I’m not sure who I’d be there anymore. The woman who lived there in Chicago, who worked an ordinary job and worried about ordinary things ... she doesn’t exist now. I’m not sure she ever truly did.”

“You mean Ellie Bennet versus Elowen.”

“It’s not just the name.” Her voice turns more confident.

“It’s everything that’s happened since I arrived here.

The tower, Ashenvale, River Crossing, Blackstone Ridge.

” She pauses, taking a breath. “Learning that I wasn’t abandoned, but sent away for protection.

How Sereven hunted me as a child, hunted Elowen .

The fact that four masters sacrificed themselves to keep me from him. ”

Her fingers twine with mine, no longer simply touching but holding on. “This power that is part of me now. All of it has changed me. I’m not sure I’d recognize the life I had before, even if I could return to it.”

Her admission is an acknowledgement of a transformation that cannot be undone.

I understand that more profoundly than most, having experienced my own rebirth through torture and healing.

The man who was captured at Thornreave Pass died during captivity.

The one who emerged is someone new, forged in pain and purpose.

“Identity is not fixed. It evolves through experience, through choice. The woman who entered my tower has become something different. Not Ellie erased, but Ellie evolving into Elowen.”

Over her shoulder, Mira appears at the edge of the trees. She raises two fingers. Time to move. Our brief respite is over. Thornspire Keep awaits, with all its dangers.

I should walk away now. Say the word and keep going. Get us to Thornspire before everything unravels. That’s what the Vareth’el would do. That’s what duty demands.

But that isn’t what I do.

I can’t pretend this moment is like every other one. I can’t walk away like nothing has changed. Like she hasn’t woven herself into the foundation of who I’ve become. Like the promise I just made, compromised as it was, doesn’t represent the greatest concession I’ve ever offered anyone.

Instead, I reach for her. I lift one hand to curve around the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, and pull her toward me, without a care for who’s watching, or my position.

And I kiss her.

It’s not soft, or slow, or gentle. It’s hunger given form. My mouth covers hers, taking what I want instead of standing back and letting the world decide what I’m allowed to feel, what I’m permitted to want. Her breath stutters, surprise giving way to response, and then her lips part beneath mine.

The people around us might as well not exist. The signal.

The fighters waiting by the horses. Mira’s presence.

The mission. All of it fades to insignificance, to background noise drowned out by the rushing of blood in my ears.

There is only this. My fingers tangled in her hair.

Her body pressed against mine. The heat of her burning through every barrier I’ve built, fitting perfectly where nothing in my life has ever fit right before.

I don’t hold back. Every bit of control I’ve held onto snaps. I need her, all of her, in this moment, because nothing else matters. Not Sereven. Not the future of Meridian itself. Only her mouth moving with mine, only the way she tastes like salvation and ruin combined.

Her head tilts back, lips parting more, and I take the invitation greedily, tasting deeper, claiming more.

Her fingers fist in my shirt, pulling me closer as if she can’t get enough either.

She’s kissing me back with the same wild hunger, the same need.

Fire races through my veins where she touches me, and I want more.

More contact, more heat, more of everything I’ve been denying myself.

A soft moan escapes her, and the sound nearly undoes me. I press closer, one hand still wrapped in her hair, while the other slides down her spine, to bring her against me, letting her feel what she’s doing to me.

When I do finally pull back, it’s only because I have no choice. The need for air becomes too demanding to ignore. My breathing is ragged, my heart pounding. I rest my forehead against hers, fighting for control while everything in me screams to kiss her again.

The silence builds between us, filled with everything I can’t put into words, that I don’t know how to say.

Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated, the silver flecks glowing like stars. Her lips are slightly swollen from the force of the kiss, her cheeks flushed. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful, more worth fighting for, something worth burning the world down for.

I don’t want to move, don’t want to break this spell that’s fallen over us. I want to forget about missions and duty. I want to lose myself in her until nothing else exists. I want to freeze this moment, preserve it against whatever comes next.

But we have to go, so I force myself to step back slightly, enough to regain my focus, to remember that there’s a world beyond the two of us that demands my attention.

“We have to go.” My voice is rough, thick with emotion I’ve denied myself for too long. I have to make myself look away, to make the decision that my position requires. “Do you want to ride with me or go back to your own horse?”

For a second, I think she might say something, ask me why I kissed her, demand an explanation for this break in my control. But then she lets out a small breath, almost a laugh, and the tension breaks a little. Her fingers touch her lips lightly, as if confirming what just happened.

“I’ll ride my own. It seems silly to double up when there are spares.”

I nod, not trusting myself to say anything more.

We return to the clearing where the others wait, their expressions carefully neutral, and mount our horses once more, pushing forward toward Thornspire Keep. Ellie rides beside me now rather than behind, our new equilibrium established without words.

The land becomes more challenging. Rocky outcroppings breaking up the landscape, scattered pine trees providing both cover and obstacle. My raven continues scouting ahead, its consciousness merged with mine in the kind of effortless communion that comes from decades of practice.

Duty calls. It always does. But even as my mind shifts back into tactical mode, my thoughts keep going back to her. The way she felt against me. The way she responds to me. The taste of her. The heat between us. I want to ignore it, push it away, but the truth is, I can’t.

Not anymore. Not after what I’ve admitted to myself. Not after what happened between us.

I force myself to focus, to compartmentalize one last time for her sake. For both our sakes.

“We’ll need to tether the horses and continue on foot to minimize detection, once we get closer.” My voice is steady once more, the Vareth’el reasserting control.

Ellie’s voice comes from beside me, soft but firm. “And once we reach the keep? What’s the plan?”

“We need to confirm Sereven’s presence. Then we’ll enter through the western approach.”

“Do you think he knows we’re coming?”

“I have no doubt that he’ll have considered it, but I don’t believe he’ll see it as a true threat. Not so soon after Blackstone Ridge. His arrogance has always been his weakness. We should be able to get inside without notice.”

“But what if he is waiting for us?” She insists. “What if it’s a trap?”

“Then we adapt.” I meet her gaze. “We’ve faced worse odds.”

The horses slow, as the ground begins to rise, their steady rhythm a reminder of the mission at hand. As we near the outskirts of Thornspire’s land, the ground ahead becomes more open. The trees part just enough to offer a small, sheltered dell where we can pause and make our final preparations.

Through my familiar’s eyes, I see the dark silhouette of Thornspire Keep in the distance, its angular towers cutting against the night sky like blades. Sereven is there. I can feel it in my bones, in the shadows that respond to my presence.

“We’ll tether the horses here,” I say, taking in the clearing, its cover perfect for what’s coming next. “Continue on foot to the western approach. Communication by hand signals only.”

They secure the horses where they’ll be hidden from casual discovery, tying them loosely enough to allow flight if necessary. The two extra fighters Varam insisted on will remain behind with them, leaving the remaining four, plus me and Ellie.

“Let’s go.”