Stolen Away by Alyxandra Harvey Read Free Book Online Page B

poetry and roses. I thought I saw Lucas, suddenly there behind him, shouting.
    And then he pushed me.
    I screamed all the way down.
    I could imagine, in that moment, my broken body on the pavement below. The last thing I would hear would be my own hysterical screaming and the mocking half caw, half laugh of the crow-people.
    I fell for a long time.
    There was a hand gripping the back of my shirt, the one Mom embroidered for me, and I didn’t know if I should be trying to shake it off or praying it held on tight. I didn’t feel like I was dreaming, but I clearly couldn’t be awake either.
    Especially when I landed.
    I didn’t break apart into a hundred pieces, I didn’t even break my legs, though my ankles felt the impact.
    And I wasn’t on the sidewalk outside our building. Instead, I was in a long room that looked like it belongedin one of those medieval movies Jo was always making me watch. Candles flickered next to painted oil lamps and beaded floor lamps. Hand-knotted rugs were piled on the dirt floor, and all the furniture was carved out of mahogany and ridiculously ornate. The ceiling was a tapestry of tree roots, hung with lanterns.
    People in bustled gowns, leather pants, and jet jewelry drank pale pink liquid from champagne flutes. Their faces were angular and powdered with glitter; some necks were too long, movements too fluid. I really hadn’t thought I had such a good imagination.
    “The girl, my Lord Strahan.” The crows were behind me, each down on one knee, heads bowed.
    Strahan wore a lace cravat and silver at his forehead, like a crown. Three women, diaphanous and gray as mist, floated behind him. Everything about them was as pale as pearls: hair, skin, eyes, mouths, clothing. Their tattered gowns undulated in a wind only they could feel. They emanated a glacial sadness that made me shiver.
    Strahan was slender and sharp, like a sword. And he was circling me like I was prey. “Dreadful hair,” he said. “I’ll never understand the modern penchant for cheap fabrics and short hair.”
    When he reached out to touch my short brown hair, I slapped his hand. I’d seen Mom do it countless times when she tended bar down the street. “Hey, back off.”
    He paused, as if I’d shocked him. I guess he didn’t getsmacked a lot. The crows muttered behind me. The silence stretched, like a thread pulled too taut. Adrenaline fizzed through my blood. I wondered briefly if I was going to be sick on his polished boots. Harp music was soft all around us, incongruous in its gentle lilting.
    I really,
really
wanted to wake up now.
    He shook his head. “And the pattern of that embroidery is pitiful. Did you really think it was enough to hide you from me? And that tattoo is a pathetic charm.” He clicked his tongue. “The glamour that kept you hidden from us is gone, child. Nothing can hide you from me now.”
    Everyone looked at me, mostly with an odd kind of hunger. There was a girl chained to the wall beside us. She was too thin and looked away when I noticed her. Her wrists were covered in blisters and the translucent wings lifting gently from her spine were mutilated.
    Wings.
    Because this wasn’t weird enough.
    She looked terrified, even more so than me. But if this was a dream, and it had to be, I didn’t have to just stand around, wringing my hands. I could be brave in a way I might not have been in real life with all those inhuman eyes devouring my every movement.
    I bolted for the nearest doorway.
    It was stupid. There were too many guards and I knew I’d never make it, but I had to try. Terror had my legs moving before my brain could come up with a better plan.Strahan just reached a hand out and caught my hair, yanking me to a vicious stop.
    “Eloise Hart.” His voice was silky, menacing. Beautiful.
    And then he smiled, slowly, as if I were a pet monkey who’d amused him. My knees went weak. His entourage laughed, clinking glasses together.
    “Lovely,” he murmured. “The others broke with such