She glanced in the direction of her family’s tents. Cheeks still flushed, gown wrinkled and hair tousled like she’d been rolling around in the forest, she couldn’t have looked more incredible to him. But anyone she passed would take one look at her and guess what she’d been up to.
“This way.” He grabbed her hand, leading her back toward his tent, which was much closer and at the edge of the forest where they’d be less likely to run across anyone. A quick stop there would give her the opportunity to tidy up and him a few more precious minutes with her.
Drops of rain splattered the grass at their feet, quickening their steps.
After confirming that no one paid them any notice, Lucan drew back the door to his tent, ushered her inside. “There’s water—” He stopped at the sight of the woman waiting inside.
Her grin faded the moment she noticed he wasn’t alone. “Hello.”
Briana stopped next to him, confusion giving way to a guarded expression. She glanced at him, her fingers slipping free of his when he all he wanted to do was cling to them.
“You should return to your family.” The words didn’t even sound like his. The detached tone reminded him of his father and the day he’d found out he was expected to marry the woman standing so still in front of him.
Lucan’s stomach churned, frustration and anger rising close to the surface, held in place only by the guilt that felt far worse than anything else. He forced himself to meet Briana’s eyes.
Her lips parted, understanding darkening the eyes that would haunt him for a long time to come he was sure.
He handed her Constantine’s sword. “We’ll speak tomorrow.”
She didn’t tell him to throw himself onto a pyre and burn, nor did she nod. She turned and walked away without a sound.
Alone in the tent, he crossed his arms. “What are you doing here, Gwen?”
She pulled her hood up, hiding her dark hair. “It was a mistake to come.” She walked past him.
Although he remained just as frustrated, his anger slipped away. He’d never been able to be mad at Gwen, not since they’d been children. He let out a breath. “Does he know you’re here?”
She stopped, shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face knowing Arthur wouldn’t quite see it that way.
“Do you care for her?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Like Gwen, it was all he would allow himself to say. Neither of them had any choice, their fate decided by their parents long ago.
Long after Gwen left, insisting she’d made other arrangements, he paced the confines of his tent, torn between leaving now and going to talk to Briana. Undecided, he walked outside, not caring that he was drenched in seconds.
He sat on the crate outside the door, tipping his face up to the stinging drops. Something fell against his foot and he glanced down to see what he knocked over.
The Blade of the Black Heart.
Chapter Nine
Lucan saw the blood the moment he opened his eyes and turned his head. A trail of crimson trickled from the corner of Briana’s mouth. She lay motionless on the ground next to him.
What the hell happened? Panic tried sinking greasy claws into his stomach but he knew allowing that wouldn’t help her.
The back of his head pulsed in pressure-filled thumps that beat in sync with his still racing heart. He recognized the treasure room they’d discovered in the tunnels beneath Tintagel castle, but more torches blazed on the wall than he remembered. The ground felt cool beneath him, his skin still so hot his whole body felt flushed.
They hadn’t been here moments ago. They’d been somewhere else, somewhere… Details bled together in his mind—the taste of Briana’s lips, the smell of wildflowers on her skin, the tightening of her arms around him.
And then he’d made her do the last thing he wanted—leave.
“Briana?”
Willing her to open her eyes, Lucan sat up. Nausea jackknifed through his midsection, nearly doubling him over.
He sucked in a sharp breath, then another.
“Briana.” He reached for her hand, cursing at the glacial chill that snapped through him as his fingers wrapped around hers.
“Finally.”
It would have taken a hell of a lot more than nausea to stop him from rolling to his feet at the sound of the voice.
He planted himself between Briana and Nessa, his sword drawn. His vision swam at the edges and he could swear the ground felt ready to slide out from beneath him, but he remained on his feet. The left side of his jaw throbbed, but the twisting inside his chest felt worse.
Briana still hadn’t moved.
She’d been fine moments ago. Laughing and smiling and teasing him. And then she’d kissed him. Melted into him, her body fitting perfectly against his, like she’d been made for him.
She should be there now, not lying there so still she could have been…
The wraith grappled for control, fighting toward full consciousness, prepared to lunge for the huntress. Someone needed to suffer for what happened to Briana.
Nessa held up both hands. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
A ripped shirt and scorch marks that revealed bubbled pink flesh on the huntress’s thigh told him that she’d definitely been trying to hurt someone. Maybe it hadn’t been Briana this time, but he wasn’t inclined to trust her.
“How long?” He wanted to kneel next to Briana and do more than be sure she was still breathing, but didn’t take his eyes off Nessa.
“You two were frozen in some kind of weird tableau. I don’t long how long you were like that. I was starting to think you were going to be permanent candidates for a wax museum. What happened?”
He shook his head, not altogether sure of that himself. He remembered hearing someone coming down the tunnel and grabbing Briana’s hand and then they’d been somewhere else.
They’d been home.
“I tried snapping her out of it,” Nessa continued, keeping a safe distance between them, “but nothing worked.”
He glanced at Briana’s swollen mouth. “You hit her?”
“Don’t get your shadow tied up in knots, Peter Pan. I hit you too.”
Was that supposed to make him better? Jesus. “I thought we were frozen.”
She nodded and finally lowered her hands. “You were until a minute ago. Then you both dropped faster than an enchantress’s panties. You woke up before I could decide what to do next.”
Keeping an eye on the huntress, he edged closer to Briana.
Nessa took a step toward him, her fingers inching ever so slowly toward the twin blades strapped to her upper thighs. “Wait. How do I know you didn’t do something to her?”
The wraith snapped and clawed at the accusation, but he kept himself from attacking her. “I promised Tristan I would keep Briana safe.”
The huntress cocked her head. “You should know better than anyone about making promises you can’t keep.”
“Luc?”
Keeping the huntress in his peripheral vision, he dropped to the ground next to Briana.
