Page 89 of Stolen
One laced with magic and prophecy and death.
“But Alaric—” I step toward him.
He turns.
His pupils are slits now.
His eyes glow like molten silver under a full moon.
And the low rumble that echoes in his chest isn’t just a warning. It’s his Dragon, risen and ready to fight.
“Stay. Here.”
The command lands heavy, like the whole room just dropped ten degrees.
My breath catches in my throat.
My body reacts before my mind can—shoulders locking up, stomach twisting.
Not because I’m afraidof him.
Because I’m afraidfor him.
I nod once, swallowing hard.
But deep inside, I know I won’t be able to sit here if something happens.
Because I love him.
Even if I’m not ready to say it.
Even if I’m not sure he’s ready to hear it.
Even if this battle might be the one that proves what we are… or breaks us completely.
Then he turns away, his wings unfurling as he strides toward the door.
Kael glances back at me once, curious.
“Brave, this one. And clever, too. I like her.”
Dagan snorts. “You would.”
They vanish behind Alaric, and the room feels colder for it.
I sit back slowly, the silk of the conjured dress clinging to my skin, heart pounding with the knowledge that something big is happening.
Bigger than me.
Bigger than all of this.
“Shade,” I whisper, stepping closer. “What will the SoulTakers do if they get past Alaric’s guard?”
She pales at the mention of them. Her usual sparkle—gone. Her long red braid looks dull in the low light, and her hands twist together at her waist like she’s trying to keep herself from shaking.
“I-I don’t know. They’re the monsters who don’t ask permission, Lady Jules,” she says softly.
Her voice is different now. Low, reverent, scared. “They take. They destroy. And now they’re here.”
