Prisoner (The Scarred Mage of Roseward #2) - Sylvia Mercedes Page 0,10

armies and households. Sometimes fae ladies would take mortal men as well to beget a child from them, though this practice was less common. But there once was a time when mortal-born Hybrids abounded, a deadly bane upon their full-blooded mortal cousins. The Great War between mortals and the kings of Eledria had been waged mainly to stop the practice of bride snatching and the breeding of more ibrildians.

Just because something is forbidden doesn’t mean it ceases to exist. King Lodírhal had refused to give up his mortal bride after the signing of the Pledge, and no one knew what had become of their Hybrid child. These days, any mortal women discovered to carry the children of fae men were forced to relinquish the babies immediately upon birth. One of the less savory tasks of the higher-ranking Miphates was to gather these children. Their fate was unknown to Soran, and he did not like to speculate.

But not even the Miphates could find every ibrildian born in the mortal world.

Could the girl truly be of fae blood? The more he thought about it, the more it seemed not only possible but likely. And the potential power to be unlocked inside her was thrilling to contemplate. Power enough to heal the poor wounded wyvern, for certain. Power enough to fix the faltering ward stones.

But what else? What other possibilities might be explored through her?

Could she be taught the forbidden Noswraith arts?

Soran drew a long breath, tilted his head back, and gazed out to sea again. To teach the girl such magic was a crime, but that didn’t bother him much. He’d committed far worse crimes. Teaching her would take time, however. No matter how much natural talent she possessed, it would take time.

“You can’t keep her here,” he whispered. “You can’t. You shouldn’t. It isn’t safe.”

The Thorn Maiden. She had been quiet last night, hidden in her dark realm. But that could only mean one thing: She was preparing. Readying herself, gathering her strength for a more vicious attack.

When that attack inevitably came, would he be ready?

If he had help . . . If he had a partner in these nightly battles . . .

Soran stood abruptly, shaking out his robes and pulling his hood over his head. Time to put an end to these foolish imaginings. The girl could not stay, and he could not teach her. It was as simple as that. He’d shelter her a few days more, then send her back where she came from. Before it was too late.

Resolve fixed firmly in his heart, Soran marched on along the cliff’s edge, making for the next ward stone. He must inspect them all before sunset.

“Hullo, you big pile of rock,” Nelle said, pushing hair out of her face. “I’m back.”

Standing just outside the gate, she gazed along the overgrown length of the drive at Dornrise Hall, which was every bit as ugly and tragic as she remembered, its formerly graceful chimneys and gables now swallowed in a sea of dead briars and brambles.

Nelle shivered, and her stomach made a little twirl in her gut. Now that she knew about the Thorn Maiden, she couldn’t help wondering if that epic snarl of thorns might be the Noswraith’s doing. Mage Silveri insisted she couldn’t break her bindings and manifest in the physical world. Not yet anyway. But could she be influencing this level of reality more than he realized? The mage wasn’t all-knowing, after all.

Still, he’d assured her the house was safe during daylight hours. Nelle peered up at the sun, bright in the cold sky overhead. It wasn’t even noon yet. She had hours of safe exploration time ahead. Besides, what else was she going to do with her day while the mage tramped around the island about his magely business? Would she prefer to stand out in the open like live bait for harpens?

Twisting the little gold band on her thumb, Nelle gave her shoulders a shake and strode forward. Several days had passed since her last visit to the great house, but she remembered the way through the snarl of briars, a narrow path leading around the side of the house to the kitchen door. The door opened easily at her touch, already used to her comings and goings.

She slipped into the shadowy kitchen, shutting the door behind her to keep out some of the cold. Strange, how familiar all this had become in just a few days. She knew the layout of the kitchen rather well.