Page 64 of Orc's Veil

And before the throne, hanging in chains of pure shadow?—

Varkhul.

He looks worsethan I imagined.

And gods, I’ve never wanted to touch someone so badly in my life.

The shadow-chains have torn into his wrists, his ankles, his throat—leaving wounds that weep darkness instead of blood. His armor is gone, stripped away to reveal the scarred chest beneath. The claiming mark over his heart blazes with strained light, flickering like a candle in a storm.

His eyes are closed. His face is twisted with pain. And I can see the memories playing across his expression—the executions, the deaths, the guilt he’s been forced to relive over and over while the Sovereign fed on his suffering.

My heart cracks open at the sight of him.

This is my mate. My claimed. The man I’ve chosen to love despite every reason not to. And the Sovereign has beentorturing him while I fought my way through its nightmare realm.

Fury rises in me—hot and clean and utterly merciless. The power I’ve gathered, the souls I’ve freed, the boundary magic flowing through my veins—it all coalesces into a single burning purpose.

I’m going to make this entity pay for every moment of his suffering.

“Varkhul.” His name comes out hoarse, rough with the blood I’ve swallowed and the magic I’ve consumed. “I’m here.”

His eyes snap open.

The forge-fire gaze I know so well is dimmed by pain, but recognition blazes through the haze. He sees me—bloody, transformed, glowing with the power of the Veil itself. And despite everything, despite the agony etched into every line of his face, he smiles.

“Took you long enough.” His voice is a rasp, torn raw by screaming. “Was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

“Traffic was terrible.” I’m moving toward him, bleeding footprints marking my path across the floor of severed ties. “Lots of shadow-creatures to scare off. Walls that kept trying to trap me.”

“Excuses.” The word is weak, but his eyes are bright—brighter than they should be, given what he’s been through. He’s not broken. Hurt, damaged, suffering, but not broken.

The Sovereign couldn’t break him.

Pride swells in my chest—fierce and possessive and utterly inappropriate for the situation. This is my mate. This is the man who faced twenty years of suppressed guilt, who relived every execution he’s ever performed, who felt every death from his victims’ perspectives. And he’s still making jokes.

Gods, I love him.

I want to climb those chains and kiss him until neither of us can breathe. Want to press my body against his and feel the heat of him, the solid reality of muscle and bone and heartbeat. The need is almost overwhelming—my body remembering what we shared at the stones, craving his touch the way parched earth craves rain.

But first, I have to get him free. And that means dealing with the monster that put him in those chains.

THIRTY-SEVEN

EIRENE

Boundary witch.

The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere—the walls, the floor, the air itself. The Sovereign has been watching. Waiting. Letting me come to it instead of trying to stop me.

The darkness behind the throne begins to shift. Coalesce. The stolen faces that make up the entity’s form emerge from the shadows, cycling through features I recognize—the mother whose lullaby I took, the farmer who lost his daughter’s infant face, the bride who can’t remember her vows.

Everyone I ever saved. Everyone I ever doomed.

You came.The Sovereign’s voice is a chorus of stolen grief, arranged into a mockery of welcome. Its pale luminescent eyes fix on me with terrible attention.I wondered if you would. After everything I showed you—every life your mercy cost, every soul your blood has fed—I wondered if you would still try to save him.

“You don’t know anything about what I would or wouldn’t do.” I keep walking toward Varkhul, closing the distance between us step by bloody step. “You’ve been watching me for eight years, and you still don’t understand.”

Don’t I?The entity circles around me, its massive form moving with that unsettling grace.I understand guilt. I understand sacrifice. I understand the desperate need to be forgiven for sins that can never be absolved.