Page 32 of A Crown of Darkness

All she had to do was reach out and take it.

Elodie’s voice haunted her, lingering just out of reach, telling her not to be a fool, to reach for the light, to cling to it, to deny the shadows and push away the empty promises of the shadow kin.

When she was a girl in Cellandre, she had danced with the forest itself more than once and its song had almost swept her away. Elodie had pulled her back and kept her safe and made her promise never to put herself in such a position again. All magic was dangerous.

All the same, what else could Wren do? This was for Finn. She couldn’t abandon him.

She could do this, she promised herself. She had to. She would be strong and resolute and she would make it through this some way. Even if she had to sacrifice herself for him…so be it.

The mouth of the first cave opened above her, stalactites like teeth overhead, glistening. The Sisters accompanying her stopped, waiting with their lanterns as she stood there, looking up at the opening.

‘He will already be waiting,’ Hestia said. ‘That was the agreement. But to reach the cave of sacrifice you must pass through the rest – the deepest dark, the emptiness, the longing and the despair…’ Four caves, each with a name more desolate than the last. That was the path Wren had to follow to reach the place where the royal family would leave their sons to die for their goddess.

‘No deeper, Wren.’ Hestia stroked her hair gently. ‘There are places where the deepest secrets are buried, where the Nox herself would fear to tread. There are things that would break your will and twist your mind. The kings of old used them to try to constrain the Nox, or enslave her. Their use cost the line of Sidon everything. They were taken and hidden. For everyone’s safety. You must keep hold of yourself. Here, this may help.’ She pressed something cold and hard into Wren’s hand. It was a glass pendant, like the one she had given Finn. The one he had broken to bring them here, which Leander had used to swap their bodies and escape Pelias. It wasn’t black though. This one looked like someone had captured gold dust in a ray of light.

‘What is it?’ Wren whispered. The other Sisters had drawn back and only Hestia remained, giving her this parting gift as quietly and secretly as she could.

‘The last of my magic, I fear,’ said the other woman with a brief, brittle smile. ‘A travelling spell, like the other. If all else fails, it will carry you and whoever you touch to safety. Just break it to activate it.’

‘How will it know where is safe?’

Hestia hugged her. ‘It will know.’ She stepped back then and bowed to Wren. ‘I fear I’ve made a terrible mess of this. I should never have underestimated the lengths Leander would go to. He makes plans within plans, and will not settle for anything less than total control. And the Nox…my goddess can be rational here, sane, but only here, I think. Close to the heart of her power, the place she made her own. She may try to beguile you or persuade you to help her. And she may be convincing. But once she leaves this place, so too goes what remains of her sanity. It is just a fleeting thing and not to be trusted. Be careful, my dear girl. If I fail…if something happens to me…’ She glanced over her shoulder briefly and then fixed Wren with a look of such determination that it stole her breath. ‘Protect my boy, and my true king, please, my lady. I beg you. Protect them for me. Keep them safe. And do not let Leander win.’

Wren nodded slowly and it felt like a kind of bargain made in the darkwoods, something which bound the two of them together. She wanted to say ‘But nothing will happen to you’ or something like that, but the words failed even as she thought of them. Her eyes burned as Hestia turned away and vanished, leaving her alone.

I can do this.

But another part of her doubted that. There was no light down here. And how could she reach for the light if there was no light anymore?

Finn was waiting. She didn’t have a choice. If she didn’t go, Leander would surely kill him. Or just leave him there to a slow and torturous death.

Steeling herself, gathering such magic around her as she still could, Wren stepped into the shadows.

CHAPTER 18

FINN

They dragged Finn from the cell. Not unkindly, but more as if the men involved didn’t want to have to touch him for too long, as if he had some sort of terrible infection which could be passed on just by touch, or association. No one spoke directly to him after Gaius and no one made eye contact if they could avoid it. Whether this was because they all thought he had murdered his father, their king, or because they knew what his fate was to be, he couldn’t say.

A jug was held up to his face but, desperate for water as he was, he jerked his head back. Finn knew what this entailed. They wanted him pliable, biddable. It would wear off far too soon for him but for now…

Someone grabbed the back of his neck in a grip like iron, squeezing. He gasped without thought and his mouth filled with the sickly sweet liquid. It choked him, and he tried to spit it out but still they kept pouring until he thought he’d drown in it. He swallowed down far too much of it, far more than he should, but they didn’t stop. Why would they? The more he took now the easier their job would be.

‘Don’t damage him,’ someone murmured, a soft and delicate voice. He jerked his head to one side, which made everythingtwist and blur as if he was underwater. A woman dressed all in black stood there, beside the general. One of the sisterhood. He didn’t recognise her. Not Hestia or Oriole, but someone who served them. She sounded younger, though her tone was implacable. ‘My lady will not be pleased if he is hurt in any way.’

She was just here to oversee matters.

Don’t damage him. As if he was nothing more than some kind of delicacy, a gift…

Which, in fact, he was…

This was always your fate.The voice whispered at the back of his mind, a laugh rippling through its soft tones.You are mine, Finnian. Just as you were always meant to be. A prize…and bait…

What little strength he had flowed away with his breath. Conscious thought became a chore, something he couldn’t quite grasp. He knew what was happening, but not what to do about it, or how to stop it. There didn’t seem to be any way to resist. Not anymore.

He was stripped and washed, the water bitingly cold on his skin. And then scrubbed clean. The women who came in to do that took their time, revelling in their power over him while all the time the black-clad sister watched, like she was supervising the preparation of a feast. Warm oils came next, worked hard into his muscles, numbing his flesh at first and then, as they took effect, making him unbearably sensitive. His skin felt every breeze, every sigh and every laugh. And there was nothing he could do.

When his cock started to stir under their ministering hands, one of the women made a comment which was met with a sea of soft, knowing chuckles.

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