The Blood Crown (The Blood Folk #2)

28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

T he path through the Shades was rugged, the terrain growing rougher with every mile they climbed.

They’d been forced to leave the safety of the riverbanks, pushing them deeper into the forest to avoid the Nostari, but leaving them more exposed as night fell. The procession was slow, but thankfully the hills were quiet. They traveled by daylight, keeping to the cover of the pines for Valea’s sake. And much to her credit, the female never uttered a word of complaint as she pulled the hood of her heavy cloak low over her face.

Karro’s eyes lingered on her when she wasn’t looking, his hand reaching out involuntarily at points during the climb only to yank it back when it was clear she had no need of his assistance. But it didn’t escape Aurelia’s notice that Valea watched Karro as well. Not the look of someone sizing up an enemy—something that softened the severe angles of her face, the sharp edge of her stare.

And all of it was preferable for her to focus on than what was still left unsaid between her and Ven.

They’d finally made it out of that place. All of them. And now?

She’d been so focused on surviving—on finding a way out—that there hadn’t been a moment to consider what would come after.

She glanced over to where Ven stoked the fire to find him already looking at her, the muscles of his jaw working as he held her gaze, his expression unreadable.

I am yours, and you are mine.

Heat flooded her body as his voice whispered across her memory.

Karro approached him, making her tear her eyes away.

The fading light through the Shades cast jeweled tones throughout the forest and she might have found it beautiful had she not been so desperate to return to Ravenstone . . . a place that she had already said her goodbyes to.

She’d already locked away that part of her life, laying restlessly in her bed at the Capitol for the weeks that she’d been back, memorizing the plants in Embra’s greenhouse, the shelves of her laboratory. Replaying the crackle of the fireplace on the second floor of the library, the feel of the worn leather as she sunk into the chair beside it.

Her eyes fell on where Valea huddled against the husk of a fallen pine, her alabaster skin safely swallowed up in the stretching shadows of late afternoon.

What would they make of her at Ravenstone?

Her place was secure so long as Ven wished it. But would the others accept her?

Embra might, after some time. Her warmth seemed to thaw even the coldest hearts, and she had a soft spot for prickly things. Nira, on the other hand . . .

Her twin had been tortured at the hands of the Nostari, and she didn’t seem one to put grudges aside. Valea was too young to bear any direct responsibility for it—but her father had given the command.

And Seth? Would he only see the face of the people who imprisoned him when he looked at her? It was impossible to say. He didn’t often wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he observed everything, silently taking the measure of a person. And what would his assessment be?

Could Valea become one of them? Or would her blood weigh out in the end?

Ven stood at the edge of their camp, crimson eyes scanning the forest as dusk fell around them. He shared that blood—and yet he had forged his own path. And maybe that is why he was willing to allow Valea into his home.

Finding Tanis, she offered the woman a skewer of rabbit as she took the seat beside her.

"Thank you," Tanis said, gesturing to food. "Not just for this," she added, voice low.

Aurelia offered a weak smile, not sure how to respond.

Tanis turned toward her. “Why did you help me?” she pushed, the golden brown of her skin glowing softly in the fading sunlight, her hazel eyes direct and unflinching.

The question caught her off guard.

Something about the fire in the Tanis’ eyes, her spirit, had made it impossible for her to leave the human behind.

She was no savior. She knew the rest of the captives that she’d set free were either dead or imprisoned again. And because she didn’t have the energy to make up a pretty lie, she answered flatly, “Because you reminded me of a past life." Maybe her motives should have been more altruistic than that, but the truth wasn't a noble one.

Her shoulders dropped when Tanis fell silent, and her gaze strayed once more to Valea, hood still low over her face as the last dregs of sunlight bled out of the mountains. And she wondered, if maybe, the bastard of the Nostari King had been forced into a life she didn’t want and was fighting for a different future as well.

Aurelia sat at the edge of their makeshift camp, arms clasped around her knees as she tried to stay warm. The snow glittered, reflecting diluted moonlight as she marked the rest of their group.

Tanis was asleep a few feet away, exhaustion lining her dark brows even as she dreamt.

A hulking silhouette detached itself from a nearby tree trunk, Karro's footsteps whisper soft despite his size as he crossed the space toward Valea’s curled form.

Reaching for the red cloak at his back, he silently pulled it from his shoulders, moving to drape it over her. But Valea was already standing to her full height, pressing a blade to his chest before he could lift his palms in surrender.

Karro looked down at the gleaming tip, dark brows lifting in admiration. “That’s a fine blade.”

Valea took a menacing step forward, chin tilting up in challenge. “I won it from a male who mistook me for an easy target.”

“Then he was a fool who deserved to be rid of it,” Karro answered smoothly, his deep voice rumbling across the snow.

Aurelia couldn’t help but smile a little, wondering if Karro wanted to be gutted by the female.

He held the cloak out to Valea, the smirk on his face falling into something more sincere. “I thought you might—” he hesitated, “need this.”

She eyed the garment suspiciously, finally dropping her blade back to her side, palm still firmly gripped around the hilt. “I don’t,” she bit out. Her own cloak snapped in the winter wind but she made no move to wrap it around herself, as if to prove the point. “I’ve patrolled these mountains in winters much more unforgiving than this."

“I’ve no doubt of it,” Karro offered, grasping the cloak in his fist and dropping it to his side. “Well then. . .” His breath misted between them as he turned away, eyes falling to his boots.

Secondhand embarrassment warmed Aurelia's face, something about the interaction making her feel like a voyeur. She turned away, a familiar shadow in her periphery. But she didn’t turn to face Ven—couldn’t. So instead, he silently stood beside her, watching the lazy flakes of snow descend on the forest and cast it in grayscale.

Tension strung the small space between them before he finally spoke. “If we make it back to Ravenstone—" he hesitated, "there are many things that I wish to say to you."

“When,” she amended, “ when we make it back to Ravenstone.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, the anguish in his voice enough to make her to look at him. “For losing hope—for doubting that we would find a way out.” He took a step toward her, so close now that his chest brushed against hers with every breath he took. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For saving them—for saving me.”

Her amber eyes met his, a deep resounding ache of longing in her chest. “You are worth saving.”

“What happened between us . . .” His words trailed off as his thumb brushed along her bottom lip, sending a delicious curl of heat up her spine, her magick answering to him even as it lay trapped, thrumming under her skin like a sleeping beast. He bent his head from where he towered over her and the heavy silver chain that usually stayed tucked beneath his collar slipped free.

The glint of copper was unmistakable even in the pale moonlight.

Ven’s fist wrapped around the coin, but not fast enough and whatever words had been on her tongue dried up completely.

For months she had wondered what talisman he kept close to his heart . . . and now she knew.

A copper crescent.

The same one she'd given Cog on the balcony of her old chambers in the Capitol—when she had thought him a mere bird. Before she'd known of the world and the creatures beyond the Valley's edge. Before she had realized magick not only existed, but that she possessed it.

“You kept this . . .” she breathed. The piece of patinaed metal was nearly worthless—enough to buy one of the sugared strawberries vendors outside of the palace gates sold in early summer. She'd offered it to the raven with hardly a thought—with no knowledge of who he might bring it to.

And Ven had been wearing it around his neck . . .

"I thought—" he swallowed, tucking the coin beneath his collar, "I thought you had left for good."

She'd been so certain that it was a memento from a past love . . . a reminder of someone lost.

The words were barely a whisper as they left her lips. "But why?"

A blush stained his cheeks as his eyes dropped. "It was the only thing I had left . . . of you." His stare lifted to hers again, the look in his eyes pleading, begging her to understand—to piece something together so that he wouldn’t have to explain it.

"But you said . . ." Her words trailed off as she tried to make sense of it. His desire for her had been real enough, but he'd been honest—so heartbreakingly honest with her—that there was nothing more between them. Nothing more that he would offer her past those stolen, fragile moments when they had kept each other from breaking.

And there was something like guilt in his expression as he finally spoke.

“We are Bound.”

The words struck her like a physical blow as she stumbled back, her boots snagging on thick roots. Ven easily caught her, his grip around her arm steady, certain. As unwavering as the way he stared at her now.

She’d been guessing at what this was between them for so long . . . And now that he’d spoken the words aloud—it seemed so obvious. She was a fucking fool for how clear it was.

She shook off his grip and hurt flashed across his face as he dropped his hand back to his side.

“How long,” she uttered, face burning—eyes stinging. “How long have you known?”

He swallowed hard, flexing his clenched hand as he searched her face. “I wasn’t certain until the night before you left Ravenstone.”

Months . . . He'd known for months.

The acrid taste of shame coated her mouth. “You offered me the choice to go back . . . to that life . . . to him ,” she uttered. If he’d told her—it might have changed everything. Her voice was lethally quiet as she pieced together the truths he offered. “You said there was no future for us . . .”

“You wanted to return," he said softly, "it seemed less complicated if I bore this burden alone.”

This burden.

He’d claimed her . . . in an enemy kingdom—when neither of them thought to see Ravenstone again. When he didn’t expect the consequences of his actions to follow them back home.

Being Bound didn’t equate to love, and he’d never spoken the word. Neither had she, coward that she was. What transpired between them had been desire and nothing more. He'd nearly made a blood oath to his father that would have separated them forever . . . and he still hadn’t told her. Hadn't thought she was deserving of the knowledge.

Heat flared across her spine and thunder rumbled in the distance, but she barely noticed as rage burned through her.

“You owe me nothing,” she said flatly, “and my life debt to you is paid.”

She turned away, his deep red eyes gleaming with some emotion she couldn’t place as she left tracks through the fresh drifts. She'd only made it a few steps before she glanced over her shoulder, unable to stop herself. Ven's large silhouette was illuminated against the backdrop of falling snow, broad shoulders curved in against the chill, dark hair flecked with white.

His eyes raised to hers, and she hated how fucking beautiful he looked.

“Is it such a curse?” she asked, her voice finally breaking, “being Bound to me?”

“No—” The word was ragged. He reached for her, dropping his hand as she recoiled. “ I am the curse. I am the burden.” His fingers found the copper coin at his throat—the actions unconscious, habitual, as if he’d reached for it hundreds of times. “Ari—” he pleaded.

Every word he spoke was a contradiction, tying her into knots. But she’d had enough of other people hiding the truth from her to protect her—to do what they thought best for her future.

“ I deserved to know,” she raged, “so that I could decide my own path.” Fury unfurled in her chest, driving away the tears that stung her eyes. “Do not martyr yourself and pretend it was anything more than deception!”

Her words were drowned out as a blast of white struck the trees surrounding them. Ven threw himself over her, taking them both to the snow-covered ground as the resounding boom of thunder shook the mountainside.