Page 16 of Stolen
The tether is locked.
The crossing has begun.
I step through with my bundle—my mate, my viyella—cradled close, her breath feathering against my collarbone.
My plan is cemented in my mind like a spell inscribed in blood.
Charm her. Claim her. Use her to win the crown.
But there’s something rising in me I didn’t account for.
A flicker.
A whisper.
A feeling that maybe that this slip of a girl in my arms isn’t what she seems.
She’s human. Mortal. Ordinary.
She’s supposed to be.
And yet, there’s a resonance.
A warmth that doesn’t come from magic.
A quiet hum that coils around my ribs and tugs tight like she already lives in the hollow parts of me I thought long dead.
It doesn’t matter.
It can’t matter.
I have a duty to the realm.
And this, lying to her,creating the illusion of a devoted lover, is the only way to see it through.
The veil parts for me, and I step across the threshold, determination rising like the north wind inside of me.
Entering Nightfall feels like diving under a waterfall.
The power of it all comes crashing over me, familiar and fierce. The realm breathes beneath my boots, thick with magic and memory.
Here, my power unfurls just like my wings.
Here, I’m not just a creature playing mortal.
I’m me.
Alaric. Demon. Lord of Air.
She whines and I glance down, frowning.
The shift is always jarring for humans.
Their bodies resist, their minds twist in protest.
The realm changes the rules of reality, and their fragile senses fight against it.
But for me?
