Page 50 of Stolen

Fire in your hand.

Tears flooded my eyes. Power—different than the kind in my head—swelled in my chest. This power was as light as the sword I still clutched. I turned my head and saw the blade glowing among the dead leaves I’d landed in.

“Fire in your hand,” a woman’s soft voice whispered. In my head, I saw a marble statue look down at me.

Varick pulled me up, and his eyes were stark as he gave me a little shake. “Come on, baby. We’re so close. But we can’t cross unless you let it go.”

In my head, the dark, oily presence recoiled. The crack of branches grew louder, like something huge was barreling through the trees. A horse whinnied. A high-pitched cackle followed. When I jerked my head toward the sound, a green fog rolled swiftly over the forest floor.

As I watched, a ball of light streaked toward it, struck an unseen target, and exploded. Something deep within the fog screamed.

Doors in my mind unlocked.

I held Arrol within me, and I couldn’t leave the Thicket until I released him.

Light flared. I jerked my head in the other direction. Men’s silhouettes moved among the trees. One swept an arm back and released another sphere. It sizzled over my head, and I followed its arc as it landed in the center of the fog, driving it back.

Varick shook me again, forcing my eyes to his. “Now, Given! Before it’s too late!”

I closed my eyes and pushed. I’d done this before. I knew how to do it. See the brick wall. Yes! Like the last time, I swung it toward the darkness hovering in my mind. But instead of ousting the demon, the wall crumbled.

Horses’ whinnies filled the air. The snapping of branches and the thunder of hooves grew louder.

Varick’s fingers bit into my upper arms. He stuck his face in mine, his golden eyes as bright as the spheres sailing past us. His voice flowed into my head, the tone rich and pure and so deep it vibrated in my chest and touched my heart. “You are my queen, in both Nor Doru and Eldenvalla.”

I gasped. He knew. “How did you know?” I asked hoarsely.

“The fire in your hand.”

Instantly, heat built in my hand that still gripped the sword. But it didn’t burn. It blazed up my arm and joined the thrum of power swelling in my chest.

“His name is Arrol,” Varick said in my mind. “You called him in. Now cast him out.”

Arrol. Yes. I knew his name.

Horses’ screams joined men’s shouts. Balls of light smashed on the ground inches from where Varick and I stood. He turned me in his arms, putting his back to the fog and the demons racing toward us. If they crashed into us, they’d hit him first. Even to the end, he would protect me.

I closed my eyes. “Arrol,” I said in my mind. “GET OUT,” I screamed, and I pushed with every fiber of my blood, bone, and soul.

The dark presence burst from me and spun into the night.

Varick swept me into his arms. He ran, and the world became a blur. Seconds later, the air changed so suddenly that my ears popped. Exhaustion rushed at me like a tidal wave. I turned my face into Varick’s chest and let the world go black.

Chapter Eighteen

GIVEN

I opened my eyes and saw a dusty ceiling. Instantly, a scream gathered in my throat.

“I’m here.” Varick’s voice rumbled, and then he sat beside me on a small but comfortable bed. Everything was comfortable, I realized. The air was warm, and soft daylight surrounded us. A fire crackled merrily over Varick’s shoulder. The smell of roasted meat teased my nose.

And a clean blanket nestled under my chin.

“Where are we?” I rasped.

“Safe. Well away from the edge of the Thicket.” He reached out like he might cover my hand with his. But then he rested both of his on his knees. A line appeared between his sandy brows as his eyes searched my face. “How do you feel? Are you…?”

I knew what he was asking. “Good. It’s gone.” My mind was my own, Arrol’s dark presence no more. “I can’t feel Midian’s blood. That’s a good sign, right?”

---