Page 9 of Stolen

Lies as a gift. The idea struck me as odd, but maybe it shouldn’t have. Laurent was skilled in deception. So was Varick. My husband and his general wielded half-truths like a weapon.

“Reach for that heat, Given,” Rhys said. His skin burned hotter, the temperature edging toward uncomfortable.

The elf surged up, throwing off one of the men. I would have stumbled back, but Rhys seized my arm. He thrust his free hand out, and light shot from his palm and struck the elf in the shoulder, driving him back to the ground. As soon as the creature was down, the man he’d tossed pinned him harder.

Rhys moved behind me. He gripped my arm and placed his cheek alongside mine. His chest was a solid presence against my back. His breath fluttered over my jaw. “You can do it. The time may come when you have no choice, so do it now while I’m here to guide you.”

My head spun. How could I wield magic I’d gained but moments ago? “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Aye, you do. Imagine yourself holding a candle. If you put your palm over that flame, it’ll burn you.” He turned my hand over so my palm faced the ground. “Feel it now. The flame is dancing over your skin.”

The moment he finished speaking, it was true. Heat seared my palm, making me suck in a breath.

“There,” he rasped, and when he flipped my hand up, a tiny ball of light balanced in my cupped palm.

My eyes widened. “Oh…my—”

He pulled my arm back and flung it forward. The ball of light sailed through the air and struck the elf. His red hair flew as he hissed and fought the men holding him.

Rhys grabbed me around the waist and half-dragged, half-carried me backward. The air pressure changed, and my ears popped. “Now!” he called out, his shout loud in my ear.

The men jumped up, releasing the elf. They sprinted toward us, their boots flinging snow and dirt as they skidded over the barrier. The elf sprang up and pursued at a speed that had a scream tangling in my throat. I stumbled back, knocking Rhys back, too.

The elf slammed against an invisible wall, his face inches from mine. He snarled, his gorgeous face a mask of rage. But in the space of a heartbeat, his features smoothed. He backed up and gave me a mocking bow. When he straightened, he was smiling once more. “Until we meet again, Given.”

“Be gone,” Rhys growled.

The elf’s eyes gleamed. With a final hiss, he spun and fled, his red hair like a flag behind him. He was out of sight within seconds.

And he left no footprints in the snow.

Rhys turned me around. He kept his hands on my shoulders as his brown eyes searched my face. “Are you all right?”

Definitely not. I licked my lips. “Was he real? His footprints…”

“He was real,” Rhys said grimly. “The elves were always light on their feet.”

My mind caught on his use of the past tense. “Were?”

Rhys’s mouth tightened. “What you saw just now wasn’t an elf. Not really.” He motioned to his men, who began gathering their horses. Rhys turned his gaze back to me. “Come. It’s time you learned the truth.”

Chapter Three

GIVEN

“Your nurse’s name was Helen Gelfort.”

I looked sharply at Rhys. He rode beside me on our way back to Aberwas. His men trailed at a respectable distance, giving us a modicum of privacy as we talked. The snow had stopped, and the sun was shining brightly again. I’d pulled my hood up and put on my gloves.

“Yes,” I said. “She raised me from a baby.”

“She did right by you? Taught you the story of the War of the Three Kingdoms and the Fall of Eldenvalla?”

“Yes. Everything.”

He gave a satisfied nod. “We chose wisely, then.”

My scalp tingled. “We?”

---