Page 120 of Stolen
The fire in my blood and the calm in my storm.
And the only reason I still believe this realm—this fractured, cursed place of war and loss—is worth saving.
I clutch her tighter, needing the warmth of her skin, the rhythm of her breath, just to stay grounded.
“Tell me you won’t leave me,” I whisper against her temple. “Say you’ll stay right here, where you belong. With me.”
My voice breaks on the last words, the ache behind them too old, too deep, to fully name.
For a long moment, she doesn’t speak.
She watches me with eyes like tempered silver—steady, unflinching, the gaze of a woman who’s walked through hellfire and stood tall on the other side.
And then, quietly, but with steel in her tone, she says,
“First, tell me the truth. About how you picked me. About why me, Alaric.”
My throat constricts.
I know what she’s asking.
And I know what I stand to lose if I get this wrong.
But I won’t lie. Not to her. Not now.
So I loosen my grip, just enough to meet her gaze, and nod slowly.
“I won’t insult you with silence,” I say hoarsely. “You deserve all of it. Every arrogant, terrible inch of the truth.”
She presses against me again, but this time, she’s not retreating—she’s anchoring me.
She places a hand over my chest, right where the zareth bond burns beneath my skin, and her fingers curl into the fabric of my tunic.
“That’s all I want, Alaric. The truth.”
I rise with her as she leans into me, standing on shaking legs. I hold her steady.
Because that’s what we do now—stand together.
“Okay, Myrrin,” I murmur, her name a vow. “I will tell you it all. I will tell you everything. About us.”
Her lips press together. Her eyes shimmer—with tears, with power, with clarity.
And in that breath between heartbeats, I know I would kneel before her, surrender every crown and every battlefield if she asked.
Because she isn’t just my fated.
She is my redemption.
And she has every right to break me.
Chapter26
Jules
Inside the Eyrie
Of all the things about Nightfall I don’t understand—the magic, the monsters, the endless politics—the one that keeps gnawing at me, refusing to let go, is this one pesky little question.
