Page 107 of Stormvein
“I found you in that cage, Sacha.” Her voice drops lower. “I saw what they’d done to you. I watched infection spread through your body. I felt your life slipping away with every breath you struggled to take.” Her exhale is shaky. “It changes a person.”
The fire in the hearth flares, responding to her emotional state and casting shadows across her face. Not for the first time, I find myself tracking the lines of her features, the subtle shifts in her expression that betray her thoughts. When she appeared in the tower, I thought her a strange looking creature, but now … she’s beautiful in ways I can’t even begin to explain.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“I’m thinking about how you continue to surprise me.” Few have ever managed that. Few have ever broken through the distance I keep. Survival requires detachment. Leadership requires distance. And yet this woman keeps finding ways past every barrier I construct.
“Is that a good or bad thing?”
“It’s … inconvenient.” My lips twitch. “But not unwelcome.”
A smile curls her lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
Her expression turns more serious. “When this is over, what happens then?”
“The Authority’s network extends beyond Sereven. Their control needs to be completely dismantled. But once the head of the snake has been cut off, destroying the body is easier.”
She gives a small shake of her head. “That’s not what I’m asking.”
“Then whatareyou asking?”
“What doyouwant? After the revenge, after the justice. What do you want for yourself?”
The question catches me off guard with its directness. No one has asked me that in a long time, perhaps ever. My fingers still on the map, their motion arrested by her words. WhatdoI want beyond vengeance? Beyond the driving force that has kept me alive through imprisonment and torture?
I consider how to answer her carefully, because the truth is that a future beyond ending the Authority isn’t something I’ve ever considered. My assumption has always been that ensuring my people’s freedom would come at the cost of my own life. The Veinwardens, the prophecy, the Authority—none of it ends with me walking away unscathed.
For twenty-seven years, survival was my only goal. Then escape. Then revenge. I’ve never allowed myself to look beyond those immediate necessities. Planning for a future I never expected to have seemed like a dangerous indulgence, a distraction from the focus needed to survive.
“Freedom,” I say in the end. Death will be freedom in its own way. “From the past. From what they did.”
“And what will you do with that freedom?”
I have no answer for that, not without admitting to her that I don’t expect to survive the war that’s coming.
“I don’t know.”
Surprise covers her face at my reply. “That might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Honesty has never typically served me well.” Truth is vulnerability. Vulnerability is weakness. Weakness is death. The equation is simple. Learned through bloodshed and betrayal. Yet with her, the math changes. With her, honesty offers something different than exposure.
“And now?” She steps closer.
“Now? Now I find myself considering possibilities I hadn’t planned for.”
Her eyes search mine. “Such as?”
“Such as what might happen after Blackstone Ridge … Such as what happens between us.”
A tremor runs through her at my words. “I keep thinking about River Crossing. When I thought you were gone. It was like something broke inside me. Something that can never be put back together in the same way.”
Her admission makes me pause. In that moment, watching as Sereven’s crystal tore apart my shadows, I focused on getting far enough away so I could send my familiar to find her. I hadn’t considered what that moment might have done to her.
“I’ve never felt rage like that before.” Her arms wrap around herself. “It was like the storm wasn’t only around me, but inside me … does that make sense? And then … when I found you in that cage …” Her voice breaks slightly. “When I saw what they’d done to you …”
She doesn’t complete that thought. She doesn’t need to. I understand what she’s telling me. Not just that she cares, but that caring has changed her as much as the torture I suffered changed me.
