Chapter 64
Thane shifted forward, the set of his shoulders tensing. Riven knew that posture like a heartbeat. Thane didn’t flinch from danger; he measured it. And if a single rifle twitched, if one soldier made the wrong move, Riven had no doubt Thane would turn the night into a bloodbath.
But before anything could spark, a voice cut cleanly through the firelit silence.
“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t slaughter my people, Thane. It took me three days and a shitload of paperwork to get authorization for field deployment.”
The soldiers didn’t move. But the speaker did—stepping out from behind the semicircle with all the ease of someone arriving late to dinner.
Sorrell, unmistakably, in a House Glint field commander’s uniform.
It fit him too well. Charcoal gray, crisply pressed, collar neatly folded, sleeves rolled to his forearms just enough to suggest he wasn’t afraid to get dirty.
The badge gleamed at his chest, sharp and official, a stylized glintstone halo over a crossed branch and sword.
Riven stared, caught off guard. Sorrell looked competent. Worse—he looked deadly.
Even so, the man in the military uniform didn’t act like he’d just walked out of a war briefing. He stood with his weight relaxed into one hip, as if they were still at some glitzy party, as if the house behind them wasn’t burning to its bones and the air didn’t taste like ash and magic.
Sorrell gave a vague flick of his hand. “Stand down, please. No one’s getting executed tonight.”
The rifles lowered in sync, smooth and precise.
One of them stepped forward slightly, visor lifted now, and Riven caught a flash of his face.
His breath snagged.
It was the same man. The one who’d helped him escape the estate—days ago, or longer now, he couldn’t tell.
Same eyes, same steady jaw. Riven remembered the press of that vial into his palm, the quick push, the whispered “run.” At the time, he’d thought it was some act of loyalty to Virellien, since he’d claimed the House, but that had been a lie to gain his trust. He’d been Glint.
Riven turned a sharp look toward Sorrell, who was already watching him.
“That’s Orien,” Sorrell said, confirming it with a nod. “He was embedded for six months. Got wind of the attack ahead of time and sent word up the chain. We were able to mobilize because of him.”
He glanced toward Thane now. “Without him, you’d both be dead.”
Thane’s expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes tightened. “You could’ve said something. When we met.”
“I was under strict instructions,” Sorrell replied evenly. “Gauge how much you knew. Observe your movements. Provide support if it seemed like you had a viable plan, but say nothing. I followed orders.”
“And now?” Thane asked.
Sorrell’s lips pulled into a thinner line.
“Now things have shifted. We weren’t expecting Hollow Hand remnants to strike.
When the report came in that they had a target on Virellien—and that you were in the middle of it—I got new orders.
” His voice dropped an octave, steel beneath the ease.
“Rescue the idiot. Or the idiots, as it turns out.”
Thane said nothing, but his jaw flexed. Beside him, Riven tried not to sway on his feet. The adrenaline was wearing off fast. His limbs were starting to tremble, his lungs rasping from smoke. The wound on his side pulsed steadily, dull and hot.
Behind them, the house let out a long, shuddering groan a final timbre in its collapse. Flame chewed through what remained of the eastern wing, sparks shooting upward into the dark like dying stars. Riven didn’t look back.
“Where do we go from here?” he asked hoarsely, eyes still on Sorrell.
The Glint agent tilted his head, considering. “We extract. Debrief. And then I figure out whether I’m reporting a success story or a diplomatic nightmare.” He smiled faintly. “For now, you’re under Glint protection. You’ve got thirty seconds to catch your breath before we move.”
Riven’s legs nearly gave out from relief. Not because he trusted Sorrell completely—but because, for the first time in what felt like forever, someone else had a plan. Someone else had a way out.
And for the first time, it wasn’t up to Thane to burn a path through.
It was already open.
Thane didn’t take the full thirty seconds.
“I need a vehicle,” he said, already turning toward the road. “I have to get back to the Virellien estate.”
Sorrell exhaled slowly, like he’d been waiting for that. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
Thane stopped, head angling slightly.
“You’re in no condition to go toe-to-toe with whoever is left in that house,” Sorrell continued, folding his arms. “You’re bleeding. You’re burned. You’ve been through a magical ambush and a burning building. You need a hospital, Thane, not another battlefield.”
“I don’t care about my condition,” Thane said flatly, without turning back. “I’m the Knife of Virellien. This is my job.”
Sorrell muttered something under his breath—probably something unflattering—and waved at the strike team to hold position. His jaw worked as if he were chewing down a more pointed reply, but before he could speak, Riven stepped forward.
“With your team,” he said, voice hoarse but clear, “we wouldn’t have a problem taking the estate back. Not if we go now.”
Sorrell looked at him like he was mildly offended by the suggestion.
“You think I can just roll a Glint strike team into another Great House’s territory and storm the place?
I have strict orders. They have stricter ones.
I don’t have the authority to authorize open military conflict, not even against Hollow Hand operatives. ”
“This isn’t about protocol,” Riven shot back. “It’s about survival. House Virellien isn’t going to be the end of it. The Hollow Hand doesn’t hate one House—they hate all of you. You think they intend to take one House down and stop there?”
Sorrell’s expression flickered, eyes narrowing. But Riven pressed on, ignoring the way his legs shook.
“They want a war,” he said. “And if Virellien falls, Glint takes the blame. You think they don’t know how to twist the optics? How to leak what needs leaking? Your people will be framed for this. The Hollow Hand wants the Houses to turn on each other before they even realize what’s happening.”
Thane stepped beside him, voice calm but sharp. “If Virellien falls, the rest won’t stand for long. You know it. We’ve kept the balance. You think House Azure is going to stand up to this kind of magic? You think House Temeran is ready?”
Sorrell’s jaw ticked again. He stared at them both, then looked away toward the smoking skeleton of the house behind them.
“It’s not my call,” he said finally. “I don’t like it, but I don’t get to rewrite the chain of command just because you make a compelling speech.”
“Then get us to someone who can,” Riven said.
Sorrell rubbed a hand over his face, fingers dragging down the clean lines of his jaw. “Shit. Fine.”
He turned toward the strike team. “We’re rerouting. Extraction plus two. I’ll take responsibility for it.”
Then, to Thane and Riven, quieter now, “I’ll get you an audience with my uncle.”
Thane’s eyes narrowed. “The Glint Patriarch?”
Sorrell gave a tight smile. “Head of House Glint. Commander of the war council. Real charming man. You’re going to hate him.
” He looked between them again and added, with a sigh, “But he listens to me. Sometimes. And if you’re right—if the Hollow Hand really is trying to drag all the Houses into a collapse—then he’ll need to hear it from someone who was there. ”
His smile vanished. “Just…don’t screw this up. I’m already going to catch hell for this. Don’t make me regret it.”