THE DARKENING (The Divided Realms: Book 2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The magic began to clear out in a purging gush. Physical pain filled the void it left. Pain that Willow couldn't hide from. When she opened her eyes, she was alone at the edge of a dim-lit cave, bruised, battered, and abandoned like a broken toy. Goblin cries echoed in the distant hallways. Drums still throbbed. She swallowed, tasted the tang of her own blood. Whimpers pushed up her throat and turned to sobs.

She dragged herself to a sitting position, the movement enflaming her oozing wounds. Her clothing lay in tattered shreds around the stone altar the goblins had placed her on. Cold. It was so cold. Willow shuddered. Chills wracked her body. She curled into a ball and rocked steadily back and forth, back and forth, reason and intellect slipping away, instincts settling on survivor mode.

She felt a touch on her shoulder that sent raw adrenalin raging through her. Snarling, scratching, she flew at her attacker until he caught her in a bear hug and made her stop. Through a muddled haze, Willow saw Theon shimmering like a dream.

"It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay."

Willow crumpled against him. He wrapped her in his cloak and held her tight. A gentle hand brushed at her hair. "My poor princess. What have they done to you?"

The whimpers started in her throat again. "I can't ... I can't ..."

"Sshhh. It's okay. Don't speak." Theon cradled her face, wiped off blood and tears, then scooped her into his arms. She nestled into him, relief spreading like wings. He felt like a tree. Strong and sturdy. She clung to his familiar tunic. Theon would save her. He would get her out of here. He carried her out of the darkness, away from the cave room and the bloodstained altar. Theon's powerful voice rang out in the corridor.

"It's finished, Father! The Game is over! Let her leave."

Light burned Willow's eyes. She gulped fresh air, her irises rolling back into the easy dark of unconsciousness.

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When she woke up, Brand was beside her, face worried yet remote, Theon and Dacia hovering behind him. Her eyes locked on Theon, and it all came back: the goblin king throwing her into the mob, monsters clawing and biting, and Theon holding her, wiping away blood. Saving her.

"You ... you got us out, d-didn't you?" she stammered. "Out of the Game."

"No. It wasn't me. It was you." Theon pushed past Brand to help her sit up. "There's no Game now. No Compact either. You destroyed them both."

Pitt popped into view. "It's true. Me and the boys ain't gotta roast no more." His hand patted hers. Willow stared at his small green fingers, trying to hide her revulsion. She was glad he was free, but they were wrong. She hadn't done it.

Brand moved closer, his chair legs scraping the floor. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I ... I ..." But Willow had focused back on Theon, her heart swelling with gratitude. His words had forced Jarlath to release them. He had been the one to save them. Brand leaned toward her, blocking Theon from her gaze. He clutched her hand, making her meet his earnest eyes. "Your Highness, please ... please forgive me. I failed you. I should have been at your side."

He was using his knight voice, the formal one that Willow hated. It made her sad. Weren't they past all that? "Why?" she asked. "What could you have done?"

Brand frowned. He stood up and glared at Theon. "Perhaps I should have hid in a cage as he did. Then, at least, I would have been there for you at the end, instead of useless and dead." He turned and strode from the room, his back stiff with anger.