Page 12 of Stolen Thorn Bride

The ceiling was high and bright despite having no visible light source, and seemed formed of soaring beams carved in arches and swirls. The walls curved downward, and were supported by columns that resembled the gnarled trunks of ancient trees. Beneath Kasia’s feet, the flat, smooth floor had been painted with a tapestry of leaves and flowers that never repeated yet somehow blended into a harmonious whole.

Perhaps, Kasia considered, there was something to this “communing with nature” theory after all.

And yet, the people…

A grim air hung over everyone they encountered, even as they stared at her like an exhibit in a traveling fair. She saw both men and women, each elf as beautiful and graceful as the last, but more wore armor and weapons than smiles. Kasia was suddenly reminded forcefully of… her father. Forever thinking of war.

What terrible secret were they hiding here?

And what did it matter when she might be walking tamely to her death?

Lost in this swirl of thoughts, she noted only absently when they entered a new room—a small, low-ceiling chamber that seemed warmer than the rest. Three beds stood against the far wall, only one occupied, and as Kasia wondered about its occupant, a green-clad elf rose from a low stool to bow deeply to the king.

“He still lives, Your Majesty, but…”

Kasia glanced up at the king’s face and watched as sorrow bracketed his mouth and drew deep lines across his forehead.

Someone he cared about lay in that bed, and with each step that took them nearer, Kasia couldn’t help but wonder what it all had to do with her.

But when they came close enough for her to see the man’s face, all rational thought abruptly fled, and she could do little more than stare.

All elves were, apparently, gorgeous. All of them seemed to share perfectly sculpted forms and aristocratic features. But this man was… somehow she could only think of him as otherworldly.

His hair was long and dark and fell like silk across his pillow. Strongly carved cheekbones, a straight nose, and perfectly shaped lips made him nearly beautiful, while a notched scar on one of his delicately pointed ears somehow only enhanced his perfection. Still more scars were scattered across the hands and arms that lay on the blanket, but his hands were strong and calloused, his arms corded with strength.

The elf’s eyes were closed, and Kasia was suddenly thankful.

“Why am I here?” she blurted out.

The elf in green turned to the king. “She has not been prepared?”

King Miach shrugged helplessly. “How can a human be prepared for such a thing? Either it will work, or it won’t.”

“What will work?” Kasia queried, pulling her gaze from the man in the bed.

“This is your option,” the auburn-haired elf burst out, fixing her with a burning stare. “This is why you were brought here.”

She still didn’t understand.

“My friend and brother is dying,” the king said quietly. “We cannot save him. But perhaps you can.”

Surely she was dreaming. Kasia held out a hand in front of her and watched it tremble for a moment before turning to the king. “How? What do you want from me?”

The king reached out and grasped her hand, and Kasia was distantly surprised by his warmth. “Among elves, we have what is known as a soul-bond. When two people are bound thus, their very spirits are entwined. I cannot begin to describe the beauty and richness of such a bond, but it comes with a price. When one dies, it creates a wound, and the surviving partner is drained of life energy until they, too, follow their bondmate into death.”

Kasia absorbed that and felt a little wistful. To love someone else so much that you were willing to risk your future…

“So he’s lost his bondmate then?” She didn’t like the feeling that accompanied that thought.

“No, not as such.” The king sighed. “He’s been wounded by a creature called a wraith. Suffice it to say that the wound has created a breach in his spirit, much like the loss of a bondmate does. We have theorized that such a wound can only be healed by the creation of a new bond—that it might close the breach and give him a chance to heal.”

Magic, Kasia thought. These elves lived and breathed it. And they could bleed it as well, it seemed.

“And what is it you expect me to do?”

“We cannot risk bonding him to another elf,” the king admitted, and this time there was a hint of discomfort on his regal face. “There is still the chance that he might die anyway, and then his newly bonded partner would likely follow him into death.”

Horror rooted Kasia to the spot. He couldn’t be bonded to another elf…

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