Page 2 of Stolen

“I wasn’t strong enough.”

My heart pounded harder. This was new. Every other time I’d dreamed of the elf, he’d spoken in a language I didn’t understand.

Strong enough for what? Before I could voice the question, vines raced across the clearing. They burst from the grass and traveled quickly over the ground. Thick and twisted, they covered the space in seconds.

“I wasn’t strong enough.” The elf’s voice rang out again, but he was gone.

Vines rushed across the clearing, twisted lengths moving far too quickly to be natural. They sprinted over the grass and covered the ground.

I blinked, and now I stood in the center of a massive stone hall. Pillars soared around me. Vines covered everything. They hung from a ceiling so high above me I could barely make it out. Light pierced the darkness in long, diagonal shafts.

And Varick sat at a long, stone table, his face pale and expressionless. Vines slithered around him, wrapping and wrapping and wrapping and not stopping. They pinned him to his chair. Crossed over his chest and bound his arms tightly to his sides. Imprisoning him as surely as if he was locked in a cage.

Yet he gave no sign he noticed.

The elven male strode from somewhere and paused in one of the shafts of light. My breath caught again. Because I’d never seen him like this. Never, not in all the years I’d dreamed of him.

He was as beautiful as ever, only now his gaze was amused rather than sorrowful. A smile curved his lips. “Given,” he said, and his voice flowed under my skin and touched parts of me it shouldn’t have been able to touch. Parts Laurent had tongued and licked and sucked. I looked down, and for a split second I was nude again. Just as quickly, my gown covered my aroused body.

But I didn’t want the arousal this time. Nevertheless, heat squirmed between my legs. My nipples puckered tightly and pressed against my bodice.

The elf chuckled.

I took a step back. My foot caught in a vine, stopping me.

The elf slid his gorgeous, clear-eyed gaze to Varick before regarding me once more. As his stare bored into mine, his smile grew. “What a tangle you’ve created.”

My eyes flew open. A beamed ceiling filled my vision. I gasped, my chest rising and falling in the narrow wooden bed. I sat up, and blankets fell to my waist. Slowly, reality chased away the remnants of the dream—and my lingering desire.

I was in Wesyfedd, in the Fortress of Aberwas, home of Rhys the Fair.

“I’m safe,” I whispered, shoving hair from my face with shaking hands. “I’m safe.” It was something I’d repeated often over the past two days. But no matter how many times I said it, I couldn’t quite make myself believe it. Maybe because Aberwas—and all of Wesyfedd—was surrounded by the Thicket.

And now I knew exactly what dwelt in the forest.

Despite the banked fire glowing in the hearth, ice slid down my spine. I’d dreamed of the pale-haired elf my whole life, but tonight was the first time he’d ever looked amused.

No, mocking. The same as the dark-haired elf who’d chased me the night the shadows took Varick. For as long as I lived, I would never forget the sound of that elven male’s voice.

“Given. Now is a good time to run.”

He’d smiled as he said it, just like the pale-haired elf from my dream. And like the pale-haired elf, he’d used my name with a familiarity that lifted the hair on my nape.

A chill crept through me, and I shivered in the bed. With a muttered curse, I flung the blankets back, wrapped my borrowed robe around me, and hurried to the fireplace. But as I reached for the wood basket, more unpleasant memories assailed me. Rowena before me, her brown eyes wide and afraid as she handed me a solstone dagger. “The south is with you.”

But it wasn’t. I knew that now. My brother Rolund was the south, and he wanted me dead. He’d ordered Rowena to give me the most dangerous weapon known to vampires in the hope that Laurent would discover it in my possession and order me thrown into the Rift.

Sorry to disappoint, Brother.

Although, perhaps Rolund was pleased with how things had turned out. Laurent had indeed discovered the dagger, but only after he, Varick, and I had slept together for the first time. The blade had wounded my husband as deeply as the betrayal he’d accused me of.

But he’d betrayed me, too. Me and Varick both. Bitterness welled as the memory of Varick’s voice filled my head. “Laurent believes the prophecy you overheard has something to do with you. He thinks you and I are supposed to conceive an elven-born child. And his priests have convinced him that he needs to toss that child into the Rift so it can reemerge and save the kingdom from the unveiled sun.”

Running had been our only option. Wesyfedd had seemed like the safest place. The only place. But Laurent had followed. He’d bound Varick with blood magic as the shadows raced toward us.

Then the dark-haired elf had appeared on horseback.

And more elves had emerged from the trees.

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