Page 113 of Stolen
Her hair is wild, eyes glowing unnaturally bright, a strange necklace with some kind of amulet glows strangely with something smoky and dark. She keeps clutching at the thing, hissing when she does.
The torn and frayed gown looks like it was once intended for a wedding. Not a war. And her emotions are everywhere, going from anger to fury to despair.
The Eyrie seems to pick up on them, and I swear it’s like the keep is trying to calm her.
Rage drips from her voice like acid.
“You’ve ruined everything,” she hisses.
Behind her, the children lie still, bound in shimmering coils of magic. It’s like they’ve been drugged, or maybe magicked by some sleeping spell.
Above their tiny forms, daggers hang in midair, pointed down, trembling as if her magic might just drop them at any moment.
My heart stops.
“Mistress Dauphiné!” Shade gasps, skidding to a halt beside me as we burst into the quiet nursery chamber turned nightmare.
My heart drops.
The children—Christol, Thimble, little Allanah, Anchor, and Beffany—are slumped in a neat row on floor cushions, unmoving.
Suspended above their tiny, slumbering bodies are three blades, hovering midair, trembling slightly with magic.
At any moment, they could drop.
Dauphiné stands at the center of the room, arms raised like a conductor orchestrating death.
Her once-perfect gown is torn, her hair wild, eyes gleaming with feverish light.
“What are you doing?” I demand, stepping forward.
My voice is cold, sharp steel laced with fury. I can’t help it.
How dare she do this?
“You might fool the Lords,” she says, her voice curled in contempt, “trick them into thinking you're brave and strong. But I know better. You feel too much for those beneath you.”
“Is that what this is about? You think kindness is weakness?” I ask, my tone clipped.
“Dauphiné, let the children go. Whatever this is, whatever delusion you’re spiraling into, we can settle it between us.”
“I would never sully my hands with you,” she hisses. “A tavern wench from another world, dressed up in Dragon's silk. But he is the Lord of Illusion, right? Maybe you should take care what you choose to believe is true.”
That hits in a way I didn’t expect, but I push it aside for now.
“Look, whatever happened would you really harm children?” My voice rises, edged in horror and disbelief.
“Lady Jules,” Shade whispers, and her horror is palpable. But I don’t stay quiet, I simply can’t.
“These are your people, too! How can you justify this?”
The woman’s laugh is brittle. Cracked glass. And I know she’s having some sort of breakdown.
“You fool. I would risk the entire North for what I deserve. Alaric was supposed to be mine! We were betrothed in all but name. I was raised to rule at his side, born to bear the next line of Lords!”
“No,” I say softly, taking a step forward. “You weren’t meant for him. If you were, he would’ve chosen you. But he didn’t.”
Dauphiné’s face contorts, beautiful features twisted with fury and heartbreak.
