preyed on those foolish enough to wade away from the shoreline.
Maeve picked up where her brother left off. “The competition concludes when all three gems have been located. You will then be returned to the courtyard.” She took the stone from her brother. “There will of course be consequences for anyone who attempts to leave the competition site or contact anyone not directly involved in the game.” She paused. “I should also mention that sections of the site have been manipulated for…entertainment value.”
Aren grinned. “And be wary of the location’s other treasures. Many have been enchanted and quiet capable of distracting those who lose sight of their objective. Off with you then.” He turned his back on them at the same time Lucan felt himself thrown backward.
He slammed into the ground, his palms sliding across dirt as dark as the surrounding charcoal walls. Accustomed to shadows, he made out the low ceiling and stone walls of an underground corridor. Dampness mingled with the faint smell of saltwater, and in the distance he could hear the muffled thump of water crashing against rocks.
Where was Briana?
Alone in the corridor, he stood. The glow of firelight flickered from the left. Wary of the more welcoming path, he studied the darkness to the right, tempted to go in that direction. His curiosity won in the end, and he went left, hoping the added light would give him a better look at his surroundings.
The tunnel ahead opened up to a wide cavern. The walls had crumbled in places, leaving caved-in debris to block some of the numerous tunnels that led away from the cavern.
Had everyone been dumped into a different corridor?
Listening for any of the others, Lucan walked toward the center of the cavern and the rock formation that appeared to move under the flickering torchlight surrounding the statue—a statue of a young man pulling a sword from a stone.
Tintagel Castle?
Lucan spun around, studying the crumbled walls and spears of light shooting through the occasional gap in the ceiling overhead.
They’d been brought to Tintagel Castle, Arthur’s birthplace?
He couldn’t think of any other place in Avalon or the mortal realm that could have the same statue, one finished just months after Arthur had restored Camelot. Although the last time Lucan had glimpsed the statue, it had sat in the courtyard.
He’d visited Tintagel dozens of times after he and Arthur had become friends, and later when he’d sworn fealty to the lost king. It was within these castle walls he’d drunk from the Grail, becoming one of Arthur’s immortal knights.
Centuries had taken their toll on the structure. Little remained of it above, he knew, a broken shell of a once glorious keep that human tourists flocked to now. Shortly after Arthur’s fall in battle, Tintagel Castle had been cast out from the protective seal of the veil and into the human realm.
Rhiannon might have beaten Arthur’s half-sister to the punch when it came to punishing Arthur’s most loyal followers, but Morgana had done her worst. As soon as she’d seized Camelot for herself, she’d dispatched Mordred’s army to destroy everything Arthur had worked for. Once landmarks, monuments and even peace treaties between warring clans and houses had been eradicated, she’d turned her sights on the childhood home she and Arthur had shared.
Destroying Tintagel wasn’t enough for the vengeful sorceress. She’d been determined to erase it from Avalon as though it had never existed. Had Morgana not felt compelled to thrust the great castle from Avalon, none of the mortal realm would have ever heard of King Arthur, heard the stories passed down from those who’d called Tintagel home when it had been shoved outside the veil.
Caught up in the past that was forever reaching into the present to haunt him, Lucan took his time circling the cavern, pausing once more before the statue. As though he’d been there, the artist had captured the near desperate determination on Arthur’s face as he gripped the hilt of Excalibur.
A reluctant grin caught the corner of Lucan’s mouth. Dozens of stories had been told about the sword and the stone and none of them had gotten it right. Historians and philosophers alike would be shocked to know that sword had been drawn to fight off the men Arthur had just robbed.
And Lucan had helped him.
Steeling himself against the fuzzy memories that tried to rise up, he turned away from the statue and gave himself over to his phantom self. It made moving between tunnels much easier.
He’d long ago grown accustomed to the sensation of becoming nothing, losing everything but his consciousness, which could so easily be consumed by an uncontrollable blood lust.
He might have wanted to apologize to Briana for what he’d said, but it didn’t make it any less true. If caught on the edge of losing his mind to a hunger he was denying himself, like what had happened in the alley, he knew full well he could be capable of eliminating anything that stood in his way of being free of such a curse.
If he dared to believe such a thing was possible.
The walls shook with the force of a dragon’s roar, followed by a scream—a woman’s. Elena maybe, or the enchantress. Not Briana.
He ignored the sounds of the brewing fight, half hoping their fighting would collapse the walls on top of them, wherever they were. When he reached another tunnel, he slowed. He had no idea the corridors beneath the castle had been so vast. He doubted any human archeologist knew either or there would be signs of excavation.
Gliding soundlessly across the floor, part of the shadows that clung to his soul, he kept his distance when he spotted the familiar dark-haired female in front of him.
“I know you’re there, Lucan.”
Surprised she’d noticed him so easily, he hesitated. She’d never picked up on his presence in his phantom form as far as he knew, not if he hadn’t wanted her to. Had the troll’s blood that weakened his healing also affected his ability to go undetected?
Briana didn’t look back or pause to see if he followed when she turned down another corridor. He kept his distance at first, keeping only the glow of the torch she carried in view, and a few tunnel twists and turns later, he eventually caught up to her.
He couldn’t imagine they were beneath the castle any longer, but magic could be deceptive, and it had taken a lot of it to push Tintagel beyond the veil.
Briana stopped, her gaze locked on the wall to her right. Her brows scrunched together, making her appear even younger, more vulnerable than her early twenties when she’d reached maturity and frozen into her immortality.
“How long do you plan on following me?” She pressed a hand to the stone wall, her frown deepening.
“I wasn’t following you.” He emerged from the shadows, his booted feet scuffing the stones beneath him as he took solid form once more.
Briana set her torch down and tested the wall with both hands. “Do you feel that?” She shoved at the stone face and the wall shook in a way that shouldn’t have been possible regardless of the castle’s age or Briana’s strength.
Brushing the loose hair from her face, she faced him, then gestured down the dark corridor for him to continue on his way.
Leaving her wasn’t an option. Not with Kel and the Fae wandering around.
He walked past her, then planted both palms on the wall next to where hers had been. “These old castles walls are stronger than they look.”
She cast him a wary look, but lifted her hands to push again. Even with both of them shoving at the wall it took time for it to give way. It slid a few inches in and then either age or design made the stones buckle and crumble.
They both fell through the opening, chunks of stone and mortar raining down on them. He lifted his head to ask Briana if she was okay, but the words never made it past his lips.
The hidden room was a treasure trove. Literally.
