Page 10 of Stolen

“Before she was Helen Gelfort of the Southern Sea, your nurse was Helen of Aberwas.”

I tugged on my reins. Rhys stopped his horse and raised a hand for his men to do the same.

“Helen was Sithistran,” I said.

“No, lass. She was born and raised in Wesyfedd. She married a fisherman and lived in the south for a time. When he died, she moved to Beldurn, where she became a lady-in-waiting to King Baylen’s new Queen Consort.”

My mother.

“Helen was given the assignment before my time. But I know we put her in Beldurn for a specific reason.”

My horse tossed its head, and I eased up on the reins I’d been holding in a death grip. Rhys sat tall in his saddle, projecting his usual aura of quiet strength. But I was done with quiet. I was tired of being kept in the dark. Tired of everyone around me having answers when I had none.

“The elf called you a mage,” I said.

“Aye.” He rested his battle-scarred hands on his pommel. “I have the blood.”

“And Helen?”

“Another of our kind.” A smile touched his mouth. “And skilled at hiding it.”

My heart beat faster. “I never knew. She didn’t say anything, not even before she died.”

His voice softened. “Her silence kept you safe. If Queen Amantha had discovered a mage in her castle, what would she have done?”

“I’m not sure she would have believed it. She was devoted to the Towers of the Mir. The Brotherhood teaches that magic comes from the Fir.”

Anger darkened his features. Contempt laced his tone as he said, “Magic is the only thing keeping their towers safe. I might forgive them for forgetting, but their ignorance is voluntary. The Brotherhood banished mages from their ranks generations ago. Now, the brothers put their faith in money and politics. If they bothered to ever look in the mirrors they drape around their necks, they might recognize their own hypocrisy.”

I didn’t disagree with him. But his vehemence didn’t tell me anything about my own situation. “Why did the mages place Helen in my mother’s service?”

“There are seers among us. Years before you were born, they foretold that an elven-born queen would sit the throne of Sithistra…and eventually deliver a child. We knew that child was important. We had to protect you.”

“Why?” Confusion rose hot and thick. “Varick says I’m dangerous. Now you’re telling me I’m important. Which is it?” Frustration made my voice sharp. “You said it was time I learned the truth, so tell me what’s true.”

He moved his horse closer and lowered his voice. “Helen told you the stories. Five hundred years ago, Sithistra and Nor Doru went to war. They fought for two decades, vampires and humans killing each other indiscriminately. Avenor of Eldenvalla wanted his enemies divided so he could conquer them both. The elves had dabbled in black magic for generations, summoning demons from what the Brotherhood calls the Fir. But its proper name—its only name—is the Shade.” His voice dropped lower. “It’s a plane wholly different from ours, and the portal between our worlds should have never been opened.”

My horse shifted, sensing my anxiety. I kept my eyes on Rhys as I patted the beast’s neck. “But the elves opened it anyway,” I said.

He nodded. “They lusted for power. And here’s what the stories get wrong. The elves didn’t summon the demons to do their bidding. They invited the demons into their bodies.”

An icy finger trailed down my spine. The redheaded elf’s twisted, furious face flashed in my mind.

“Demons can’t take corporeal form on this plane,” Rhys said. “They can only attach to the living. The elves were so greedy for power, they allowed the demons they summoned to possess them. But they made a fatal mistake. The longer a demon lingers in the body, the more control it gains over its host. Eventually, the host will die, giving the demon complete control of the body. King Avenor knew this, but he was determined to win his war and crush his enemies. He pushed his people to keep the demons bound inside themselves. The elves continued their battles…and they waited too long.”

Bound. The word tripped through my brain, triggering memories of the night Varick saved me and then kissed me.

“Varick of Lar Keiren is elven-born,” I said. “He said his father couldn’t be bound.”

Rhys put a hand over mine. As before, his palm was hot through his glove. “I told you the creature we saw in the Thicket wasn’t an elf. There are no more elves, lass—only the living dead. Every being in those trees is a shell, nothing more than a host for the demon inside it. Five centuries ago, nearly everyone in Eldenvalla died in the quakes. The few who managed to escape couldn’t shed their demons when they fled the destruction. Their bodies had enough life left in them to sire a handful of children. Those were the first elven-born. They passed on elven gifts, but they passed on other things, too.”

My scalp prickled again. “What are you saying?” I whispered.

“In the months after the Rift opened and Eldenvalla fell, the mages got word that some elves had fled before the Thicket sprang up. We learned they were living among the vampires, and that a few had sired offspring. We weren’t sure what this meant, but we worried. So we hunted for them. We searched all of Nor Doru, looking for these elves and their children.”

“And you killed them?” I rasped, Varick’s voice echoing in my head. “In the library at my family’s estate at Lar Keiren, ancient records talk of knights going from house to house, searching for elves who might have escaped the Thicket.”

“Some,” Rhys said bluntly. “Not all. Their children became the elven-born, but that name is misleading. Like calling the Shade the Fir, it conceals the true nature of the children who sprang from the ones who fled the destruction of Vai Seren. Some of those children inherited beautiful gifts. But every elven-born carries darkness inside him…or her. It is knitted onto your souls.”

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