Page 42 of Stolen

“Now I’m inside you, child,” he crooned, stroking her hair. “And this way, I won’t ever have to leave.”

Chapter Fifteen

GIVEN

I couldn’t stop shaking.

I lay on the floor in my bedchamber and willed myself to vomit up Midian’s blood. I must have lost consciousnesses after drinking from him, because I had no recollection of returning to my room. All I remembered was waking in a puddle of sweat with Midian’s dark blood squirming through my veins. Someone—Varick, I assumed—had dressed me, so at least I wasn’t nude.

The horror of the beach spun back, making me shake harder. My hatred for Midian burned like a brand. But my searing anger was secondary to the guilt that pummeled me. My stupidity had landed me in this situation, and now Varick and I were in more danger. And I was inundated with demon blood.

My throat was raw from trying to force myself to vomit. I’d gone to my hands and knees and stuck my fingers down my throat. I’d coughed and gagged and kneaded my stomach. But nothing worked. The blood stayed down, and now it was everywhere—a thousand tiny rivers of fire spreading rapidly through my body.

As ignorant as I was about my vampire half, I knew I wasn’t supposed to drink dead blood. Midian’s body had been dead for five hundred years. Maybe he’d meant to kill me by forcing me to drink. But then why did he say he would never leave?

A dry sob burst from my throat. I wanted to cry, but no tears would come. Thirst plagued me. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my throat burned every time I swallowed.

Varick. What was Midian doing to him? It couldn’t be worse than what he’d already done. I hugged my knees to my chest and tried to block out the images from the beach. My fault. It was all my fault. Varick had tried to stop me. He’d warned me that attempting to lure Midian from his body was too dangerous. I’d been so, so stupid. I got lucky one time and accidentally repelled a demon, and now I thought I could take on the demon king who’d tortured us for days? Now Midian had been inside my head, and he knew what I could do. I’d failed, and I’d made everything so much worse.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I wept dry, silent tears. If only I could undo my mistake. Or find another way to defeat Midian. But I wasn’t strong enough.

Something cold and wet touched my cheek. I opened my eyes, and I was in the clearing in the Middling. Except now, the grass was covered in a blanket of snow. As I breathed in crisp air, another snowflake landed gently on my cheek. More flakes drifted from the sky, which was the dull gray of winter. A trail of bright-red blood started at my body and trailed across the clearing, where it stopped at Midian’s feet.

He stood tall and beautiful, his blue mantle a rich burst of color against the stark shades of winter. My breath caught as I met his gaze. His blue eyes were twin pools of sorrow.

“I wasn’t strong enough,” he said, the ache in his voice like a bruise.

I got to my feet. Snow dusted my gown, but I wasn’t cold. Or maybe I was just too riveted to care. Because the tall, elven male wasn’t Midian. He’d never been Midian. Not in this place.

“You’re Avenor,” I rasped. “The last king of Eldenvalla.”

The scene changed, the clearing giving way to the hall of statues. Everything was dazzling white, all the elven lords and ladies intact on their pedestals. But the air smelled of smoke, and the sound of bells drifted from somewhere, the ringing insistent and unceasing. Avenor stood at the base of the statue of the beautiful female, only now her outstretched hands held a shimmering broadsword. It was the same unusual gray as Varick’s dagger, with waves that appeared to ripple down the blade over and over.

Avenor turned, and I did a double take as a flesh-and-blood version of the woman on the pedestal rushed toward him. Her belly was swollen with pregnancy, her beautiful face streaked with tears. Her hair was a rich, dark brown, and her gown was the same blue shade as his mantle. The tips of her pointed ears emerged from the heavy waves of her hair. A delicate, silver crown nestled on her head.

Something compelled me to look at the ground. When I did, the snow was back—a light dusting this time, but now it showed two trails of blood. One still ran from me to Avenor, and now the other ran from me to the elven female.

“Vara,” Avenor rasped, bringing my head up. He grasped the woman’s hands as she came to his side. “Vara.” He pulled her against him and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “You have to go.”

The ground shook, and the entire hall seemed to tremble. I staggered and caught myself against the base of a statue as dust sifted from the ceiling. Distant screams joined the muffled sound of the bells. The stench of smoke grew stronger, and the air grew warm.

When the shaking stopped, the woman cried out and clutched at Avenor’s mantle. “I won’t leave you, husband. We’ll endure whatever comes together.”

“No,” he said sharply, his blue eyes flaring with power that brushed my bare skin. He splayed a big hand over her rounded stomach. “You carry our future with you.”

She gripped his mantle more tightly, and her voice emerged as a terrified whisper. “It still dwells within me.”

“The babe?”

“The other.”

He dropped stricken eyes to her belly. “But…it was gone. We drove it out.”

She placed a shaking hand atop his. “Not in me. Within me, my king.”

The room rocked again, harder this time. More dust fell. One of the statues farther down the row tumbled from its pedestal and smashed to pieces on the marble floor. The queen staggered against Avenor, who braced himself with a hand on the marble folds of her statue’s gown. Before the shaking ceased, he pulled her into a tight embrace and spoke in her ear.

“Get to the barrier the watchers raised,” he said, urgency in his voice. “The others can’t cross it. Once you pass through, you’ll shed the one who clings to you. Go now, Vara, and save our child. I command it.”

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