The sword had been lost soon after Arthur’s fall. Constantine, Arthur’s heir, had forged six daggers that would supposedly lead to Excalibur when united. Lucan put no more faith in the daggers accomplishing such a thing than he did in the smoke and mirrors trick the goddess had just pulled.
Arthur was gone and no amount of treasure seeking would change that. Maybe Lucan couldn’t argue the daggers’ existence, but immortals—present company included—needed to stop looking to a myth to change their fate.
Some things simply could not be undone.
“I’m sure you forgive me for not revealing its location at the moment.”
“Excalibur was lost after the battle at Camlann,” Nessa insisted.
“Was it?” Maeve smiled. “You have until sunset to decide whether or not to participate.”
The gods vanished as quickly as they’d appeared, leaving everyone else still staring at the faded glimpse of the lost sword.
“Parlor tricks.” The Korrigan argued. “They couldn’t possibly have the sword if they’ve just awakened.”
“Just awakened for them could be a century for us.” It was the first time the Fae had spoken since the gods had appeared.
Eyes dark, the Korrigan shook his head. “Even if they did have it, winning the weapon would be a death sentence.”
“Maybe your pea-sized brain has forgotten how powerful that sword is.”
The Korrigan glared at Nessa. “I haven’t forgotten anything, certainly not that to possess Excalibur would invite war with either Rhiannon or Morgana. Or both.”
“Any war could be won with Excalibur in hand,” the enchantress put in, her sing-song tone deliberate and designed to weaken a man’s will. Or a dragon’s. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Kel throughout the exchange.
“Is that so?” The Korrigan shot a finger at Lucan. “Ask him how well that foolish belief worked for Arthur.”
There was no arguing with that, and everyone knew it. But neither had Arthur relied on Excalibur to fight his battles for him. The sword had been a symbol as much as the blade he’d used when he’d found no way around it. As far as Lucan knew, Arthur had never taken the weapon for granted, or the responsibility that came with possessing it.
Briana crossed her arms. “That’s assuming Maeve or her brother don’t have their own agenda for the sword. With a Campaign coming, what better immortal ally to have on their side than one who possesses Excalibur?”
“Why wouldn’t they just give it to an immortal of their choosing?” Elena asked, proving that the reckless sorceress wasn’t as flighty as rumored.
“Which proves it’s all a hoax.” The Korrigan walked away, apparently done with the conversation.
“Why do the gods do anything they do?” the Fae mused aloud, ignoring the shorter immortal’s departure.
“Because they can.” It was the only truth Lucan knew. With no real consequences for their actions, no one to hold them accountable, every decision the gods made mirrored their selfish outlook that every being’s sole existence was to entertain them.
Even the rules of the game, ones that allowed an immortal to supposedly win the entire competition by claiming a victory in the final round alone were a farce. Just one more way for the gods to show everyone else who was in control.
No one said anything for a long moment.
The enchantress and Kel were the first to follow the Korrigan back inside the mansion. Elena and her new wolf friend trailed behind them soon after.
“What do you think?” Briana glanced at Nessa.
The huntress glanced back at the spot where Maeve had offered them a glimpse of the prize. “If there’s a chance it could be real… We could bring Arthur back. Restore the balance of power in Avalon. We could be free.”
Briana frowned, her gaze considering.
A knot the size of Camelot’s round table lodged in Lucan’s throat. “You’re not thinking of staying?” She didn’t have the kind of training for something like this. He wasn’t sure even her brothers did.
Her brows scrunched together. “You’re not?”
Lucan didn’t answer. He had no interest in becoming another god’s puppet or using the Gauntlet to slip Rhiannon’s leash. Even if he believed the latter was possible, fantasies of freedom could undermine his already fragile control. Or worse, they could make him forget his responsibility to safeguard Excalibur.
Although he had his doubts that the prize was real, he couldn’t risk Arthur’s sword falling into the wrong hands. Any one of the immortals present could be seduced by Excalibur’s power and drag all of Avalon down with them.
But Elena was right about him needing a supply of blood. If he was strong enough he could go a couple days, maybe three, without it. Any more than that and he chanced losing himself to the wraith who wouldn’t hesitate to satisfy its hunger from the closest source.
How long had it been since he’d fed last? Twelve hours? Eighteen?
Nessa cleared her throat, and Lucan realized his gaze had locked on Briana’s neck.
He shook off his sudden preoccupation with blood, and focused on the bigger problem. “You can’t stay here.”
Determination squared Briana’s shoulders. “If there is even a chance—”
“Don’t be naive. That sword is probably no more real than the sunlight.”
She met his eyes but not without taking a soft breath, the pulse beneath her jaw quickening a fraction. “It’s not your call.”
“Don’t make the decision to stay because you’re angry with me.”
“Angry?” she echoed, her voice turning glacial.
“
He waited until Nessa and the Fae were out of earshot before continuing. “What happened in the alley —”
“There’s no point in rehashing it. You made yourself perfectly clear.”
Lucan searched her face for the raw emotion he heard in her voice, but found only stubborn resolve. “I never wanted to hurt you like that.”
Wildness brightened Briana’s eyes, and he knew she was close to letting her feline half to the surface. “It’s over with, right? We have other things to deal with.”
He forced himself to nod. “Getting you home comes first.” If Tristan wouldn’t be happy to hear about what happened in the alley, the gargoyle would destroy Lucan for letting her enter the Gauntlet.
“I’m not your responsibility.”
“I promised your brother—”
“That you would make sure I kept my clothes on,” she shot back, tugging at the shirt she wore. “Job well done.” She said nothing about how close they’d come to sliding her pants all the way off, or that those clothes hadn’t stopped him from touching her…everywhere.
“I told your brother that you would be safe with me. What part of the Gauntlet sounds safe to you? It’s a death match.”
“That’s not what Maeve—”
“Come on, Briana, you’re not that stupid.”
She flinched as if he’d struck her, but he made himself keep going. Saving her life was more important than sparing her feelings. “Do you think Kel would hesitate to cut you down at the first opportunity? He betrayed his king on the battlefield, leaving him vulnerable. If he could stab Arthur in the back, what would stop him from driving a sword into yours?”
Crossing her arms the same way her brothers did when they weren’t about to be swayed, Briana waited.
“Or the Fae or the Korrigan,” he pressed. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be at that creature’s mercy,
