Page 30 of Stolen

“Lies as a gift,” she murmured, her exhaustion-smudged eyes distant and solemn. She shivered and refocused on me. “Rhys the Fair rescued me from the Thicket the night we fled Lar Katerin. I spent time in Aberwas before I came here looking for you. Rhys and his cousin are mages. They claim the elves who escaped the Fall passed on parts of the demons inside them. That you and I aren’t really elven-born but—”

“Demon-born.” I finished grimly. “I’ve long suspected it, but I’m not sure I really believed it until now. Or maybe I just didn’t let myself believe it. But sitting in the Great Hall these past three days has convinced me. Midian and the others never eat, but they can’t help but watch us when we do.”

“They’re jealous.”

Surprise flitted through me. She’d been paying attention. That didn’t make what I was about to tell her any easier. “They’re not alive. They never will be, and they know it. Everything about them is a lie, including the bodies they’ve stolen.” I hesitated. “I worry that Midian wanted us for a specific reason.”

She paled. “What?”

For a moment, I almost backpedaled. Considered making something up or telling her to forget it. But I couldn’t leave her vulnerable. It was bad enough that I couldn’t protect her. Sending her back to the Hall unprepared was worse than leveling with her.

And maybe I was wrong. I hoped I was wrong.

“The demons are jealous of the living,” I said. “The histories of Ter Isir say as much if you read between the lines. But I don’t have to. I’ve seen it in my father…and my sister.”

Given’s eyes widened. “Lady Evelina? I don’t understand.”

“My family’s estate in Lar Keiren is hidden away in the north, at the edge of the Wastes. My ancestors must have thought it was safe to keep records there, because they left testimonies warning of a spirit of lasciviousness in our line. My father kept dozens of mistresses. Always, he sought to sire more children.” Old pain surfaced, and it tightened my voice. “He made my mother’s life miserable in every way possible.”

“And you believe Evelina is this way?”

I shook my head. “My sister isn’t violent, but she’s…” I struggled for words that didn’t want to come. Because I’d failed Evelina. It was another shame on top of a mountain of sins I carried. I took a deep breath and tried again. “Evelina is cruel to the males she pursues, and she pursues every male she can. It’s like she’s driven by lust she can’t control.”

“But she’s wed now,” Given said.

I grimaced. “I don’t know if I did the right thing by forcing her hand. But Evelina is only a small part of what I’m trying to tell you. The darkest traits of the elven-born run in my family. The viciousness and the cruelty and the insatiable drive to spread our seed. It doesn’t come from the elves, Given. It comes from Midian, and I worry he sees you and me as tools to create what he can’t.”

Her lips parted. The blood drained from her face, making the smudges under her eyes more prominent. “You think he wants a child from us.”

“I don’t know if I’m right. But I worry I might be.”

She closed her eyes on a long blink. “It’s like a twisted version of the prophecy.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. Cryptic words had never held any appeal for me. Always, I’d resented the “child of prophecy” label the Brotherhood had bestowed on me. What use did I have for a title awarded by males who worshipped a god I didn’t believe in? But I’d been careless in my arrogance. I had forgotten one important fact: Whether it was the prediction of my birth or the prophecy that spoke of the savior of the realm, my beliefs were irrelevant. It was enough that other people believed in it—and were willing to do terrible things to make the events it foretold come to pass.

Given’s eyes were stark. “What do we do?”

I didn’t know—and I didn’t get a chance to tell her.

Because the next time I blinked, we were back in the Great Hall.

Chapter Eleven

GIVEN

The first thing I saw when I arrived back in my body was an enraged Midian.

He picked up where Valen had left off, his hand wrapped around my throat and his black eyes narrowed in fury. “You think you’re clever, hiding and taking the priest’s lover with you. Tell me, Princess, does it hurt knowing your husband prefers his general over you?”

Slow learner that I was, I didn’t hide the pain his words produced. It was a devastating error, because once he saw it, his rage twisted into something far worse. Between one breath and the next, Laurent stared into my eyes.

“Does it bother you, my queen?” Midian said in Laurent’s voice. He shoved me into a chair, tangled a hand in my hair, and forced my gaze to the vine-covered Great Hall. Except now it was Laurent’s bedchamber, and the dancers were gone. “Let’s just have a look.”

Laurent and Varick stumbled into the chamber, ripping at each other’s clothes like they couldn’t strip fast enough. After a few fumbling seconds, Varick growled, grabbed Laurent around the thighs, and hoisted him up. His big hands squeezed Laurent’s ass, his knuckles turning white. Laurent swore, wrapped his legs around Varick’s waist, and nipped at Varick’s mouth with his fangs.

Varick grunted and spun them around. He took three strides to the bed and tossed Laurent down. It took him about two seconds to rip away the rest of Laurent’s clothes, and then he put a knee between Laurent’s thighs and took Laurent’s lips in a savage kiss.

Laurent arched, a deep moan rumbling from his smooth chest. He spread his legs wide, making room for Varick’s big body. Varick’s trousers still clung to his hips, but they were open in the front, and the leather slid down, exposing the hard, muscular curves of his ass.

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