Page 22 of Stolen

Varick.

I stifled a gasp as clarity rushed back. I was in Vai Seren to find Varick. He’d stared at Midian all through dinner, never once looking at me. Anger had blazed in his eyes, but his face had been pale, his hair tousled and unkempt. He was in danger here. We both were.

A few steps ahead, Midian turned.

I slammed the brick wall to the front of my mind.

The demon king considered me. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” I lied, and I forced myself to walk forward. I tapped a long-buried memory of attending feast day services with Queen Amantha. Once a month, the royal household would walk from Castle Beldurn to the Tower of the Heart for public prayers. No matter how carefully Helen washed and brushed and dressed me, Rolund’s mother always found fault with my appearance. My palms would sweat and my stomach would twist into knots. But displaying my nerves only made things worse, so I learned to bury my anxiety. I hid my feelings with a clenched jaw and a smile fixed in place with cement.

I did the same now, except I plastered what I hoped was a dreamy, somewhat stupid look on my face. I glided toward Midian like I didn’t have a care in the world. “I was just admiring the way the clothing is carved,” I said, the brick wall pinned to the inside of my forehead. “It’s very realistic.”

He glanced at the nearest statue. “Yes,” he said absently. “Come. You must be tired.”

I followed at a distance, and I touched every pedestal I passed. The hall didn’t flicker again, but as I brushed my fingers over the final piece of marble, the woman’s voice flowed into my head once more.

“Fire in your hand.”

Igrith’s power. I’d forgotten it the same way I forgot Varick. But I remembered now. I squeezed my hand into a fist and kept walking, the brick wall foremost in my mind.

Midian led me down more beautiful but austere hallways to a pair of double doors. He flung them wide, revealing a luxurious bedchamber decorated in white and gold. Clearly designed for a noblewoman, it boasted a canopied bed, vanity, and a reclining sofa like the one I’d woken on. As in the Great Hall, the marble hearth was empty. I didn’t see any windows, but a candelabra perched on a stand in the corner offered ample light.

“I hope everything is to your liking,” Midian said.

My smile stayed firmly in place. “It’s perfect.”

“I’ll leave you to your rest. Call for me if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

He touched my jaw, his fingers over the spot where I’d been struck. “We’re all so pleased you’re here.”

I smiled as he left, and I didn’t move when the lock clicked behind him, indicating I was well and truly a prisoner. I stood in the center of the room for a long time afterward, listening for footsteps as I finally allowed fear to climb through me. My heart thumped painfully, but I didn’t dare move. Not just yet. I stared at the double doors and waited for Midian or one of the others I’d seen at dinner to crash back inside and…do what, I didn’t know. Harm me, I guessed. Punish me for entering Eldenvalla and trying to free Varick.

Except I’d failed miserably. Not only had I not rescued Varick, I’d gotten knocked out and beguiled. And now I was having visions and hearing statues. I cocked my head, straining for the sound of the woman’s voice. But of course it didn’t come. I had no idea what was real and what was illusion.

With a final, nervous look at the doors, I turned and headed toward the cold hearth.

My vision changed. So did the room.

Like the hall of statues, it was a crumbled, dusty ruin. The bed was broken, its canopy collapsed and tossed in the corner. The sofa was so dusty, the cushion looked gray. The vanity’s mirror was cracked, the jagged lines resembling a spiderweb that showed me dozens of copies of my pale, frightened face.

I rubbed a shaking hand over my eyes. When I lowered it, the room remained a ruin. Vines covered the walls and floor. The twisted, vicious-looking lengths were the same as they’d been in my dream. The clinging, sour-sweet scent of rot coated my lungs.

This was real. Vai Seren was a dead city, its castle a decaying husk. And now I was trapped inside it, held prisoner by the demon king who had haunted my dreams my whole life. What did Midian want with me?

Rhys’s words in the forest flowed back, his deep, urgent voice filling my head. “…every elven-born carries darkness inside him…or her. It is knitted onto your souls.”

It wasn’t too far off from what Varick claimed when he called us “dangerous.” If Varick and I were truly part demon, maybe Midian meant to keep us here.

Tears of fear and frustration pricked my eyes. I had no hope of fighting Midian and the others. The “fire in my hand” was temporary—a borrowed gift with an unknown expiration date.

But I had another gift. My gift. I could farsee.

My breath quickened. I’d only done it once, and the experience had been both enlightening and terrifying. Ever since, I’d been wary of it happening again. But this was an emergency. I was trapped in Eldenvalla. According to Rhys, the mages were charged with protecting me. I’d seen Rhys beat back a group of demons. And Igrith was a force to be reckoned with. Who better to rescue Varick and me than the mages of Wesyfedd? I couldn’t get a message to them, but I could go to them—even if only in spirit.

The problem was, I didn’t really know how to farsee. I’d done it by accident in Nor Doru.

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