The riders bearing down on them burst apart under the force of Elena’s magic, but most of them managed to remain in control of their horses.
“It’s a little early in the inning to have to pull the star pitcher.” Vaughn winked at the sorceress.
The group of men was larger than Lucan realized, close to fifty in the group. Another volley of arrows darkened the air. A burst of flame destroyed most of them before they hit the ground.
Lucan flinched, one of few arrows that got through slicing across his biceps. He sucked in a breath, the wraith finally stirring.
The ground vibrated as the men drew nearer, all of them Morgana’s. He knew without checking that Briana wasn’t as close to him as he wanted, but there was no time to maneuver closer.
The lead man raised his arm to throw a spear, and Lucan let his shape slip away to allow the weapon to pass through him.
Someone screamed directly behind him. The enchantress.
Eyes wide, the man pulled at the reins of his horse, and the animal reared up, giving Lucan an opening to strike. Arm raised, he froze. The scent of blood—sweetly metallic and pulsing with life—struck with sharper precision than the spear.
He spun around, felt the wraith roar to the surface. His gaze locked on the stream of blood trailing from the spear embedded in the enchantress’s side. His incisors lengthened, aching in his mouth.
From the corner of his eye he saw Briana herded toward three men. He took a step toward the enchantress. A little blood and he’d be in a better position to help Briana, to help himself stay in control…
Briana tripped, and one of men lunged off his horse, rolling to the ground to pin her beneath him.
The wraith’s fury overrode the bloodlust, and he charged toward them. A wolf gargoyle, a mercenary fighting for Morgana shifted form mid-jump, landing between Lucan and Briana.
Not understanding what he faced, the wolf sprang forward and flew away from Lucan, knocked aside by a fist that would ruthlessly take down every obstacle between him and Briana.
He grabbed the closest of the group stalking Briana from behind, and sank his fangs into the side of the human’s neck. The blood curdled on Lucan’s tongue, sour and smelling like death.
Spitting it out, he shoved the man away. He wasn’t real. The Fae had been right. Another illusion.
The man holding Briana to the ground soared past his friends as she kicked him off. She dropped the third where he stood with a swing of her sword, grinning when the fourth scrambled away.
Pride filled Lucan’s chest, and the first real smile in days curved his lips when she glanced his way. He’d known she would be a sight to behold in battle, and when she plunged between two men, sliding to her knees in the mud to take them off their feet, he knew he’d been wrong to doubt her. Maybe she wasn’t a mercenary or a trained huntress, but she was just as capable, just as fierce as ever.
Hearing footsteps behind him, Lucan whirled, found himself face to face with Nessa. Both of them breathing hard, they stared at each other, weapons drawn.
“You’ve got a little something on your chin, wraith.” The huntress turned toward another small group of men close to those that Vaughn and Elena pursued.
Ten feet away, the Fae scanned the field, his gaze following something that moved away from them.
Kel.
The enchantress yelled, finally managing to pull the spear from her side.
“No. This way.” Briana grabbed his hand, tugging him in the opposite direction. “We’re getting through this competition first and then you’ll feed.”
“Volunteering?” he snapped, the long-ignored compulsion for blood an ugly, ravenous beast fighting him from the inside out.
“Yes.” She kept walking, her gaze strategically sweeping the area.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t deserve to suffer.”
He stopped. “Maybe I do.” There wasn’t any maybe about it, in fact.
“Why?” Eyes a brilliant blue and glowing around the edges, she faced him. Blood stained her clothes, smeared her cheek. “Because you were forced to do things against your will? Rhiannon didn’t give you a choice when she created the wraith inside you.”
“No,” he growled. “There’s always a choice.”
She frowned. “You would have taken your own life?”
“To spare others, yes.”
Skepticism tightened the lines around her mouth. “Then why didn’t you?”
Tracking Kel’s progress, he let out a breath. “It wasn’t for lack of trying.”
“The wraith?”
It was always the wraith, had been for centuries. “It took over every time I tried until I gave up.” It had been hundreds of years ago, when the black-outs faded and he was faced with memories of what he’d done.
“Lucan,” she began, taking a step toward him.
“No. Don’t look at me like I was a victim. I’ve killed, Briana. Hundreds of times. Hundreds of deaths in a hundred different ways.”
She shook her head, and he knew she wasn’t getting it. Not really.
“I made them suffer. Killed them in front of loved ones or when they were on their knees, crying and begging for their lives. Once I stood for peace and honor, and now it’s misery and death.” He took a step toward her, hating that she retreated even though it had to be that way. “Still think I don’t deserve to suffer?”
“The wraith was in control,” she insisted.
“And that’s supposed to give me a free pass?” That wasn’t the way the world worked and he knew that better than anyone. “The wraith wasn’t always in control. It doesn’t care about being merciful and lessening someone’s suffering. Completing the objective any way possible is all that counts.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes, but instead of retreating further, she held her ground. “You made their deaths easier.”
“They shouldn’t have had to die at all,” he yelled, his anger fueled by a punishing hunger he was terrified would lead him to hurt her.
The monster’s confidence didn’t do a damn thing to improve the situation.
With the few of Morgana’s men left standing being dealt with by the Fae, Lucan scanned the area for Kel.
A flash of red insignia streaked across Lucan’s peripheral vision, and his stomach bottomed out. “Arthur?”
“Where?”
Heart punching through his chest, he pointed to where a man with the dragon shield separated from his men.
“He’s still alive?”
For now. Lucan glanced up, but the dark sky made it impossible to tell what time of day it was and how long the battle had been waging.
“It can’t be that simple?” Briana murmured.
He was already moving toward the man with the shield, the spiked tips of anxiety digging in. “What?”
Briana kept up with him. “Dragon. Nogard.”
He frowned.
“Nogard is dragon spelled backward.”
Son of a bitch. Tracking movement toward Arthur, he broke into a run. Kel was already too close to him. If the dragon wanted to be the one personally responsible for killing Arthur in this twisted playback of history, Lucan had no intention of indulging him.
Briana sprinted next to him, and they both saw the approaching band of men change course, heading toward Arthur. “I’ll be faster on four legs.” She threw her sword at Lucan and yanked at her clothes, preventing them from getting in the way during her shift.
