Page 11 of Stolen

His words sank into my skin as surely as his heat warmed me through my gloves. Even so, a chill crept around me, numbing my lips. “So you’re saying I’m part—”

“Demon,” he said. “It’s a burden, to be sure, Given, but you need to know the truth.”

Fear gripped me. There was a sword strapped to his side and who knew how many other weapons concealed under his clothes. His men sat on horseback behind us. I had no hope of outrunning them.

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked through a tight throat.

“No, lass,” he said quickly. “Put that thought from your mind. If my kind wanted you dead, Helen could have done it when you were in the cradle.” As I released an uneven breath, he squeezed my hand. “We are not our forbears, you and I. And as I told you before, my kind have gone to great lengths to protect you. You’re the key to everything, Given.”

“The prophecy,” I said, fear seizing me all over again. If he thought I would sacrifice a child to the Rift, he was as mistaken as Laurent.

“The savior of the realm will be bound in blood and reborn from the Rift,” Rhys said. “One of the Brotherhood spoke it the night you were born. He recorded it on the same parchment the brothers used to predict your birth one year prior. A mage posing as a brother ripped the second prophecy from the parchment and smuggled it out of Sithistra.”

“Smuggled it?”

He shrugged. “You can take the mage out of Wesyfedd…”

Ordinarily, I might have smiled. But I couldn’t muster any levity. “Why did the mage steal it?”

“Our seers foretold your birth long before the Brotherhood did. We knew you were special. We wanted to study the second prophecy here in Wesyfedd, where the land pulses with magic. We also knew that various groups might interpret the prophecy differently. Once word of it spread, that’s exactly what happened.”

My heart sped up. “You think Laurent’s interpretation is wrong?”

He turned his gaze to the forest. His dark eyes grew distant, and when he looked at me again, his expression was inscrutable. “We believe the prophecy is much bigger than Nor Doru or Sithistra. You’ve seen Wesyfedd on a map. The Thicket surrounds us on three sides. Wesyfeddans know the enchanted forest better than any in Ter Isir. The barrier is weakening, Given. It’s been happening for years. If it falls, nothing will stop evil from spilling into Wesyfedd. And it won’t stop with us. It will cover all of Ter Isir.”

A shadow fell over us. When I glanced up, the sun had moved behind the clouds. Goosebumps lifted on my arms, but not from the dip in temperature.

“The prophecy could mean you,” he said, “or a child of your blood. We mages don’t pretend to know. The only certainty is that men and monsters will try to bend the future to their will. I and others like me are determined to protect you. If anyone’s will matters here, it’s yours.”

I frowned. “So…you’re saying I could decide how the prophecy plays out?”

He gave me a wry smile that reminded me of Igrith. “Therein lies the allure and the danger of prophecy. Now that you know about it, will you try to steer the outcome? That can be dangerous.”

“You’re not making me feel better,” I said irritably.

He withdrew his hand. “I know, lass. I believe the saying is ‘ignorance is bliss.’”

I fell silent, my head spinning with everything he’d told me. There was so much to take in—the prophecy and free will and learning I was, according to him, part demon. I didn’t want to believe it, but I’d seen the elves with my own eyes. “You used light when you saved me,” I said. “And again today.”

Rhys nodded. “It’s pure magic. We call it banishing.”

“Would it work on me?”

“I can’t say for sure. Every elven-born is different. You’re half-human, which makes you unique.”

“Or weak.”

“That’s far from the truth, but I can see why you might believe it. You’ve been at the mercy of powerful people your whole life. Shuffled around without anyone consulting you on your wishes. Prophecies sometimes cast the unlikeliest among us in roles we’d rather not accept. But that’s Fate for you. I’ve yet to meet anyone who truly understands it.”

“That’s just it,” I said. “I don’t understand any of it. Laurent thinks I’m supposed to restore the Deepnight. Rolund thinks I’m supposed to”—I groped for an explanation—“I don’t even know what he thinks! The Deepnight creeps south, but he spoke to the Prelate of the Brotherhood about banishing devils. My husband wants to toss my child into the Rift, and my brother seems determined to see me there.” My voice rose. “How is that saving anything? What am I supposed to do?”

My horse shied. Rhys caught its bridle. I watched in misery as he murmured to the beast under his breath. The animal calmed, but my blood coursed through my veins as hot and unchecked as before.

When the horse quieted, Rhys lifted his gaze. “I can’t tell you what it all means, Given. The mages observe—and we endeavor to keep you safe when others would try to use you for their own ends. But I can tell you what we believe, and it’s this: Everything is connected. The Deepnight began to shift and bleed away around the same time the Thicket started to weaken. Evil is never content to rest. Dark power never stops once it accomplishes its goals. Always, it seeks more. We mages bound the demons, but the spells we used to raise the Thicket weren’t meant to hold forever.” He sighed. “I wish I knew what you’re supposed to do next, but I don’t. But I can guide you, and I can protect you.”

I stared at him—the “bandit king” who was anything but. Could I trust him to protect me? He didn’t have an army, but maybe he didn’t need one. Not after the things I’d seen him do in the Thicket. If I could believe him, he and his kind had been watching over me my whole life.

“The unlikeliest among us,” I said quietly.

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