The last burst of flame she threw struck the ceiling and rocks and earth rained down through the canopy of leaves.
“Are you trying to trap us or burn us alive?” Kel fought the vines holding him prisoner next to Lucan.
Lucan twisted as far as he could, searching for Briana. He picked out the Fae, who managed to elude the vines, as well and the enchantress. Like Nessa, she was unconscious.
He scanned the other end of the room, still not spotting Briana. Had she been left behind?
Another vine wrapped around his chest, the thorns piercing his flesh.
The pressure on his right arm lessened, and through a blurry haze, he saw Briana cut through the vine. White spots twirled across his vision, blending the ceiling and ground together until he wasn’t sure which was which.
The vine that pierced his chest retreated, and he helped Briana pull the rest of them off him. Nearby, the Fae chanted under his breath, his voice agitated, as a vine swayed in front of him, a cobra poised to strike.
The last vine around Lucan’s waist gave way easier than the others, almost as if it had lost interest in holding him prisoner. More vines abandoned everyone else in favor of cornering the Fae.
The chamber shook violently as another of Elena’s fire blasts struck a wall.
“She’s going to kill us,” Kel snarled.
Briana slipped an arm around Lucan. Not until the warmth of her pressed against his side, taking some of his weight, did he notice his legs had been moments from dumping him to the ground.
Weak from hunger, blood loss and now the poison in the thorns, he struggled to raise his voice above a whisper. “You need to stop Elena.”
The words left his mouth at the same time another burst of fire struck the column closest to Kel.
And everything went dark.
Briana came awake coughing, her lungs working to expel the dust that coated her insides. Her head fell back against the ground, and she took a minute to piece together what the hell had happened.
Keeping her eyes open took tremendous effort. So did lifting her arm. Whatever didn’t ache from being battered and bruised from the battle and vines, trembled with exhaustion.
Her eyes slid shut. Maybe if she just rested another minute… The cat growled softly in her mind, then louder. No sleeping then.
“Luc?” Gritty and heavy, her eyes stung as she kept them open to search the dark.
Something heavy pinned her right side. She pushed at it with her free hand, and the warm weight gave a little.
Lucan?
It took long moments and several deep breaths to slide him off her body, and she lay panting afterward, cursing the toxins in the thorns. She didn’t want to know what else the gods had planned for them if each challenge was meant to be more difficult than the last.
A sound echoed behind her, and she stilled.
“Who’s there?” She squinted in the dark.
A spark flickered, some of the vegetation catching fire. Kel.
He leaned against the wall, something protruding from his thigh. The scent of his blood smelled faintly sour, as did Lucan’s. Another side effect from the thorns, she assumed.
Ignoring the dragon, she used the rays of light to examine Lucan’s wounds. Like wading through water, everything took more effort, and she sagged back down when she finished feeling the extent of the wound on his head—probably from the cave-in. The chunks of rock and debris separating them from the others might as well have been the size of oil tankers for all the strength she had to move them right now.
Sitting up once more, she shook Lucan’s arm, willing him to wake up. The dark had never bothered her before, but she’d never been in the dark
The edgy chill sinking into her bones left the cat anxious.
Kel grunted, and she glanced over her shoulder, watching him yank at whatever impaled his leg. He hissed out a breath, his big body shuddering. Even if she thought his dragon form could push through the barrier without collapsing the roof entirely and burying them alive, it was doubtful he could shift with his leg so badly damaged.
The firelight faded until only the coals glowed in the dark. She thought he meant to leave them in the dark, too exhausted to unleash enough of the dragon to breathe fire, but the room lit up again moments later.
Lucan’s eyes were still closed, his face free of the tension and pain when he’d been with Arthur.
Lucan was Lancelot.
How had no one ever told her that? Stories of Arthur’s best friend were legendary in both Avalon and the human world, even the ones about him trying to steal the heart of Guinevere.
And he and Lucan were one and the same.
The night of the festival centuries ago made more sense now, how close he’d seemed to Arthur and Constantine, their teasing reminding her of her own brothers instead of a leader with his soldiers. While she’d never heard of Lucan marrying, she’d heard the rumors of Lancelot’s betrothal to Guinevere.
“He’s the only one who can get us out of here, you know,” Kel drawled, either not bothering or unable to hide the pain in his voice.
“Except he’s unconscious,” she pointed out. Though the dragon had to know that already.
“So give him some of your blood.”
A tired laugh made it past her lips. “I’m sure you’d enjoy watching him drain me completely.”
He shrugged. “It would be slightly more entertaining than watching my wound heal.”
“The others—” she began.
“Will be busy looking for the scroll, assuming they’re not in the same position. We’re on our own.”
She nearly choked on her next breath. “We?”
Kel didn’t say anything, but unfortunately that didn’t make his suggestion any less than the best option.
Her gaze fell to Lucan’s mouth. She’d all but dared him to drink from her in the alley and agreed to it on the battlefield. And now she hesitated?
“He won’t kill you.” She couldn’t make up her mind if Kel sounded bored or disappointed by the possibility.
“Have a Magic 8 Ball over there?” Even taking the unpredictability of the wraith out of the equation, there was no way to know how the poison would affect Lucan’s bloodlust.
Something hit the rocks next to her, and she stared at the knife Kel threw.
“I can help if you’re too squeamish to cut yourself.”
Knowing she couldn’t risk losing too much blood when she was already so weak, she made a shallow slice across her palm and pressed it to Lucan’s mouth.
Chapter Eleven
Nothing happened.
Briana applied more pressure, frowning when Lucan’s lips didn’t so much as twitch.
Panic took root in her gut. “It’s not working—”
A hand clamped down on her wrist, holding her still. Her heart kicked against her ribs, and her eyes found Lucan’s. Open and entirely black, they held her in a death stare.
His brows drew together, then the wraith released her. His lids slid closed and when they opened long moments later—another eternity of waiting—they revealed the same forest green that had haunted her dreams for centuries.
“Hi.” Days of emotional upheaval slipped away, replaced by a bone-deep relief that the damage hadn’t been irreparable. She stroked her fingers through his hair.
Covered in her blood, his lips parted, but he didn’t say anything.
“You should have told me,” she whispered.
