Page 151 of Stormvein
Within the hour, the Veinwarden leaders begin to arrive at his quarters, faces solemn with the knowledge that these gatherings never bring good news. They enter the room one by one, men and women whose names I’ve learned during my time at Stonehaven, fighters and strategists and healers who form the backbone of the Veinwardens. Each one bows their head to Sacha. Some offer me cautious smiles or more formal greetings.
I retreat to a corner, where I can watch as Sacha conducts this impromptu meeting. Every aspect of his bearing radiates leadership and authority. He stands straighter, speaks clearly, each word delivered in a way that commands attention without raising his voice. Power clings to him, and not for the first time, I wonder just how much authority he had before his imprisonment, before the rest of the Veinbloods were gone.
Listening to him recount the confrontation with Sereven, I’m struck by how clinically he describes the events that almost killed him again. It’s all offered in clear, crisp tones that strip away the terror, the desperation, and the emotion that coursedthrough me during those moments. To hear him tell it, we executed a planned attack, rather than desperately fighting for our lives.
But when he reaches Lisandra’s final betrayal, how she attempted to strike him down from behind, the room erupts. Voices rise in anger and disbelief.
“She’s been betraying us since Ashenvale fell,” Varam says, his voice deadly quiet. “Feeding information to the Authority for decades. How many rescues failed? How many Veinbloods were purged because of her?”
“The question,” says Miradel quietly, “is what we do with her now. The people of Stonehaven have the right to know what she’s done. They’ve bled for this cause, lost family and friends. They deserve justice. We have taken in people who were hunted by Authority soldiers. They came here believing they were safe.”
Telren nods grimly. “A public accounting, then. Let the evidence be heard publicly.”
“And the sentence?” Another voice speaks up from across the table. “For attempted murder? For betraying our people to their deaths?”
There is silence for the space of a heartbeat, then Miradel speaks again.
“Death. It has to be death. She’s forfeited any claim to mercy.”
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the room. But all eyes turn to Sacha, waiting.
“The final judgment belongs to the Vareth’el,” Telren says. “As rightful sovereign of Meridian, the decision must end with him.”
Sovereign? What?
I can’t stop the sharp intake of breath that cuts through the room’s tension. Several heads turn toward me, but I can’t look away from Sacha. Everything clicks into place. Why the fightersand Varam reacted the way they did when he knelt before me. Why they bow to him with such reverence. Why his word carries so much weight. He’s not just a Veinblood who survived. He’s the ruler of Meridian itself.
And he never told me.
A muscle ticks in Sacha’s jaw as he glances at me, the only sign that he heard my reaction.
"Death. I agree that the sentence must be death.” His gaze sweeps over everyone. “Two days from now we will gather in the central chamber and bring Lisandra to justice. But first, we have something else to discuss. When Sereven saw Ellie, he knew her. He called her by a name. One that she hasn’t ever used here.”
Several of the people gathered around the table exchange glances. Some lean forward, interest piqued.
“What name?” It’s Telren who breaks the silence, turning to peer at me.
“Elowen.” I’m sure it’s my imagination, but Sacha’s voice caresses the syllables in a way that sends heat spreading across my skin. I squash it down. Now isn’t the time for unruly emotions. Not when someone in this room might know something.
His gaze moves from face to face, missing nothing, cataloging every twitch, every caught breath, every shadow of recognition. But most of the faces show only confusion, brows furrowing as they search their memories for the name.
“Elowen.” Miradel whispers the name.
Sacha turns. “Miradel. Does that name mean something to you?”
All eyes turn to her. The room falls so silent I can hear the flutter of the lamp flame. She clasps her hands to still their trembling, the silver bangles on her wrists clinking softly.
“It’s a name from a long time ago. During the worst of the purges, a couple of years after you were taken from us.”
“Where did you hear it?” Sacha moves around the table until he’s directly in front of her.
“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.
