The Veil

The Veil Ivy Brannon Copyright © 2023 by Ivy Brannon All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Contents Content Warning Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Epilogue Acknowledgments Resources for Survivors Content Warning This book contains coarse language and scenes of an adult nature including sexual content, violence, and attempted assault. A list of resources for survivors can be found after the acknowledgments section at the end of this book. For the fighters * * * Chapter 1 Samhain marked the end of harvest and the first day of winter. The days leading up to it had been relatively warm still, but the leaves on the trees had begun to change colors weeks ago, and usually by the time darkness fell, the chilled air would cut right to the bone. Tonight was no exception. Camped in a small glade for the night, I hunched beside a small crackling fire with my three brothers, blowing into my hands and rubbing them together in an attempt to bring some warmth back into my fingers. They were starting to turn an unnatural shade of blue, even though I’d bundled up in my father’s old winter coat and draped one of the threadbare blankets we’d brought from home over my skirt. My youngest brother, Wynnric, clung to my side, shivering miserably in the nook between my arm and shoulder. He’d just celebrated his sixth birthday last week, but somehow he seemed even younger tonight as he huddled close and whimpered in fear when a wolf howled in the distance. I brought my hand to his back and rubbed it in circles to comfort him. “It’s alright, Wynn, he won’t hurt us.” “But what if he’s hungry?” Wynn asked, looking up at me with those big turquoise eyes of his, now round and watery with worry. “Well, we’re hungry too,” my younger brother Dominic chimed in, glancing up from the hunting knife he was sharpening, “and it’s four against one, so I’d say our odds are pretty good.” He grinned and winked at our brother, which helped Wynn relax slightly. I looked over at Dominic and mouthed the words thank you. He nodded knowingly. At nineteen, there was no denying Dominic was a man now. He looked the part, with his lean physique and a dusting of stubble on his chin and upper lip, and although he hadn’t lost the playfulness of his youth yet, he’d grown strong and handsome seemingly overnight. It was strange suddenly seeing all the young women in our village fawning over him. It felt like just yesterday he had been the snotty, whiny child pulling my braids and blaming it on our older brother, Jaras. Our eldest brother was, as usual, not paying much attention to us. If Jaras was cold, he didn’t show it. He sat slightly removed from the fire, his cloak draped haphazardly over his bony shoulders while he stared blankly into the flames. He occasionally sipped from a flask at his hip, the flickering shadows accentuating the deep, dark circles under his hazel eyes. He’d been attractive once, but when our parents passed away he turned to drink and cards, and it was starting to show. Tonight he looked pale, gaunt, and utterly miserable. I frowned. I probably didn’t look much better. I’d been working myself ragged all summer and harvest, tending the fields at Lord Olin’s estate during the day and assisting the scullery maids in his kitchen at night. With our parents gone and Jaras doing little else besides frequenting the local tavern, Dominic and I were responsible for our family’s survival. He would be gone hunting for days on end, while I would wake up before dawn to make breakfast for Wynn prior to work, and arrive home just in time to squeeze in one reading and writing lesson with my little brother before he went to bed. “Are you really going to be hunting for wolves?” Wynn asked, a tinge of worry still coloring his voice. Dominic slid his knife back into its sheath and tucked it in the outer pocket of the canvas pack resting beside his bow and arrows. “No, not on this trip.” Wynn let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Good.” “What’s the matter?” Dominic laughed, nudging him. “You don’t think you could handle a wolf?” “I could!” Wynn protested. He lifted his chin proudly, but scooted a little closer to me. “I just wouldn’t want Lina to be scared, that’s all.” I exchanged a glance with Dominic as we stifled our laughter. “That’s very gallant, Wynn.” I had to consciously fight against my lips as they attempted to curve into a smile. “You’re quite the gentleman. Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Wynn beamed and snuggled further into my side. I smiled and kissed his mop of blond hair, smoothing one of the rogue ringlets that twirled off the cowlick at the back of his head. Wynn’s wild curls had always seemed to have a mind of their own, and no matter how much our mother had fussed over them when she was alive, they refused to be tamed. It was clear not much had changed in two years. “Well, you won’t need to worry about Lina pretty soon,” Dominic said, readjusting the blanket over his lap and nestling against his pack. “I’m going to use this trip to teach her how to hunt.” “Women don’t hunt.” We all turned to look at Jaras, who scowled into the flames and took a large swig from the