THE DARKENING (The Divided Realms: Book 2)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Willow and Brand reeled and smashed into each other, everything a blur, wind roaring in their ears. Then – bam! – they hit the ground hard and went sprawling across it. Bars sprang up around them and Willow's back slammed into one. Brand hit the bars face on, blood spurting from his nose. They both lay stunned and blinking while Jarlath gazed in at them from the other side of a cage.

"Welcome to the Menagerie," he said. "I have long desired a human specimen for my beast collection. And now I have not one, but two. And a male and female as well." He smiled maliciously. "Perhaps I shall breed you."

"We are not beasts," snuffled Brand, holding his bloody nose. "Release us at once."

Willow gawked, not able to get past the disturbing implications of the word "breed." But a sudden crop of unexpected goosebumps made her look down. All her fine court regalia had vanished and been replaced with a skimpy loincloth and bikini-top ensemble. Not exactly the right outfit to inspire gutsy defiance. She crawled to her knees, huddling against the cage bars.

Jarlath bent closer to peer at Brand, who also wore nothing but a loincloth. "There are festivities to plan," he drawled. "Tours to conduct." A cryptic smile crossed the faerie king's face. He chuckled, then vanished from sight. Brand hunched forward, cupped hands trying to stem the steady flow of his gushing nose.

"Here, let me help." Willow knelt beside him. Gently she surrounded his face with magic, dulling the pain, then manipulating the cartilage and torn blood vessels back into place and melding them together. The blood stopped spouting, but Brand's face and bare chest were still slick with it. Willow scanned the cage. A water bucket sat beside them. Two corners were piled with straw, one with raggedy blankets. She scooted over to the blanket corner, tearing off a strip from a cloth piece already torn, then dipped it in the water bucket. Brand said nothing as she wiped the blood off, his eyes boring dark holes into the dirt floor. Willow turned to redip the bloody cloth in the water.

"Don't," said Brand. "We may have to drink from that."

Willow instantly froze, her bedraggled reflection looking back at her from the water's clear surface. Drink from it? Oh jeez. What had Jarlath called them? Animals for his zoo or something. The red-stained cloth dropped to the ground. Willow sank dejectedly beside Brand, color draining from her face.

Jarlath didn't want a Game. He wanted payback.

"Is what the faerie lord said true? Is it because of me that you are a prisoner?"

Willow looked at Brand. He was sitting too, arms across his knees, wet chest gleaming in the sunlight. Willow tried to swallow. She had never seen Brand shirtless before. He was ripped like a football jock. Quickly, she flitted her eyes away.

"It's ... like ... well ..." Willow took a deep breath. "Yes."

Brand's silence made Willow peek at him. He looked mature, like Sir Baldemar when he had offered to go to Clarion for her. "I don't apologize," he said. "Say what you will, Jarlath means you harm, and with or without my interference, he had a plan to follow. Some scheme that would have tricked you into his clutches. I am your sworn knight, Highness. And a poor protector I would be if I allowed you to enter danger alone."

Willow's sigh filled the cage. She leaned her head back against the bars, staring up at the covered ceiling. She should have seen this coming. Guessed how Brand's mind worked. All along he'd maintained that he wasn't going to let her go to Clarion alone. But over the last few days, the way he had helped with her studying and then agreed to help her escape from the dungeon, he'd lulled her into thinking that he'd accepted the faerie queen's plan. Willow dropped her head and gazed into Brand's expectant eyes. Darn it. Maybe she had known. The troubling thought took root and began to grow. Had she avoided being alone with him so she wouldn't have to talk about it? Wouldn't have to order him to stay behind? If so, his presence here was partly her fault.