Page 43 of Stolen

She shook her head against his shoulder. “Not without you. What of the realm?”

Hands on her shoulders, he set her away from him. “You carry the realm. Hide somewhere no one will look for you. Someplace small and insignificant. I’ll send for you and the babe when it’s safe to return.”

The bells clanged louder. From far away came the sound of steel on steel, along with terrified screams. When I strained, I thought I could hear the crackling of a nearby fire.

With a choked sob, the queen rose on tiptoe and pulled Avenor’s head down, crushing her lips to his. He kissed her back, his long fingers threading through her hair before he broke away. Then he took her hand and led her to the wall behind the statue. He bowed his head and murmured foreign words.

The hair on my nape lifted as I recognized the language I’d heard in my dreams my whole life.

A rectangle of blazing light appeared on the wall. Something clicked, and the rectangle swung inward, revealing a tunnel. Avenor guided his wife inside with a hand on the small of her back.

It was an escape tunnel, I realized, similar to the one Laurent showed me the day we rode to Lar Satha. Every castle had one, in case the residents needed to flee a siege.

Avenor rested his hand on his queen’s pregnant belly once more. With his other hand, he tipped her chin up and kissed her forehead. A tear streaked down his sculpted cheek. “If I fail here—”

“No,” she whispered fiercely. “Please don’t say that.”

“Listen to me.” He pulled back, and now his blue eyes burned with authority. “If this is the end, you must tell our child what happened here. You have the gift of Memory. Use it, Vara. Teach our child how we erred…and the price we paid for power.”

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “I will,” she choked out, “but this isn’t the end. Speak it into being, my king. Use your gift.”

He shook his head. “I give the last of it to you.” He clasped one of her hands in both of his. His eyes glowed like sapphires set aflame, and power tripped from his voice. He touched her forehead. “See the brick wall.”

Light flared around them, blinding me. I winced and threw up a hand. When I lowered it, Avenor stepped away from Vara. “This door stays open until you return. Do you understand? It doesn’t close until you and our babe are safely home again.”

Vara nodded. “And when I come back, you’ll be waiting.”

He stepped back. “Go, my love. Quickly.”

With a final, desperate look, she turned away.

“Vara!”

She spun back in a swirl of deep-blue skirts.

“Fire in your hand,” Avenor gasped.

A great boom shook the hall, and a massive crack zigzagged along the floor.

Vara turned and disappeared into the tunnel.

Avenor watched her go, and then he slumped against the doorway.

For some reason, my gaze was drawn upward, to the wall high above his head. As earthquakes rocked the room and dust sifted from the ceiling, my heart thumped faster.

Because painted on the wall was the same coat of arms in the castle’s Great Hall, only now I knew why it was so familiar. I’d seen it before, at my mother’s ancestral estate at Lar Satha. The tree’s silver branches stretched toward a crescent moon tipped on its side. Here, as in the Great Hall, the colors were brilliant. At Lar Satha, the only color that remained was a bit of gold on the moon. And there, the tree was set aflame.

But everything else was the same. Exactly the same.

Avenor turned and staggered from the tunnel. Bells clanged. The room shook violently, toppling more statues. Smoke billowed into the hall. Men’s voices followed. Seconds later, boots rang out and a group of elven knights entered, their swords drawn. Their eyes were black. The one in front stepped forward, his gaze locked on the king.

Avenor straightened to his full height. He didn’t flinch even as the statues continued to shatter around him. His voice boomed with power. “You are not welcome here, Midian.” Anger blazed in his blue eyes, and contempt dripped from his tone. “Go back to the Shade from whence you came.”

The elf strode forward. His black eyes glinted. Slowly, he extended his sword, the tip pointed toward Avenor’s chest. “I would, Your Grace, but I much prefer it here.” He closed his eyes. His body dropped to the floor. A thick, black shadow rose from his crumpled body. It hovered in the air for a moment, seething and roiling and folding in on itself. Then it shot toward the king.

Avenor thrust both hands out, and power burst from his palms in a shock wave that disturbed the air.

The shadow went straight through it and struck Avenor in the chest. The king went to his knees, one hand lifting to clutch at the spot over his heart. “I wasn’t strong enough,” he gasped, shock and horror glazing his eyes. “I wasn’t—” He choked. Black veins traveled up his neck…and then his cheeks, until his face was covered in a dark web. His jaw dropped, and blood poured from his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut.

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