“Why does Rhiannon allow you to live?” If the goddess could enslave Arthur’s knights and could lock an entire shape-shifting race in stone, how could she not manage to retaliate against Morgana?
The sorceress looked smug. “Because I am the last tie she has to Arthur.”
Something clicked in Briana’s head.
Rhiannon. Every one of the immortals competing had a connection to the goddess.
Lucan was Rhiannon’s unwilling mercenary while Nessa was faithful and devoted. Kel was at the top of the goddess’s most wanted list, and Elena’s house was known for their loyalty. The enchantress had already mentioned the goddess had expressed interests in her magic, and Vaughn had talked about Rhiannon’s support for the rebellion against Morgana.
Briana’s family had given Rhiannon not one but two of the lost daggers, leaving only Bran. She and the Fae had talked little throughout the competition, so it was possible Briana just didn’t know what connected him to Rhiannon, if anything did.
Could he have been the one who’d manipulated Lucan into attacking her or used the enchantress to slow her down near the dungeon? He certainly hadn’t offered any explanations for how he’d controlled the vines in the catacombs.
But why her? What threat did she pose that he would want to remove her from the games?
Morgana gave her a considering look. “Dress warm,” the sorceress quipped, heading for the door. “We’re taking a little trip.”
“What do you mean she’s not in there?” Tristan jumped to his feet, crossing the small clearing Sorcha just entered. Cian and Emma continued to keep watch, knowing the edge of the forest offered them little protection so close to Camelot. “You said—”
The ex-huntress held up her hands. “Briana was here. An old acquaintance inside—not that kind of acquaintance,” she interrupted to glare at her scowling mate. “Told me they left earlier today.”
Tristan’s brows shot up. “They?” Was the wraith still with her?
“Briana
“No.” Cale shook his head. The oldest of the Callaghan siblings wasn’t nearly so calm and quiet when he cursed under his breath. “How in the fuck did that happen?”
Sorcha blew out a breath. “Briana is competing in the Gauntlet.”
Christ. Tristan stalked away, then spun back around. He’d thought Sorcha was off her huntress rocker when she’d suggested that Morgana might be the only other immortal in the loop about the Gauntlet. There wasn’t much the sorceress didn’t know about what happened in Avalon.
And if Lucan had anything to do with Briana being dragged into the Gauntlet, there wasn’t going to be a piece of the wraith left when Tristan finished tearing him apart.
“And she’s still alive?” Cale clarified, the relief evident in his voice. “So what was she doing
And why the hell hadn’t she tried to get hold of any of them before now? Tristan wanted to know. He knew he’d been pushing her too hard and she’d probably guessed his reaction to Lucan being her mate, but he couldn’t imagine her avoiding all three of them if she was in trouble.
“It was part of the competition,” Sorcha explained. “And apparently something went wrong.”
Things had been going wrong since the wraith had come along—
“He’s her mate.” Kennedy touched his arm, always knowing what he was thinking.
“That doesn’t mean he’s not responsible.”
She shook her head. “That’s like holding you responsible for me being marked for assassination.”
He growled, but didn’t argue. “Lucan’s a bad influence.”
“Spoken like an overprotective brother,” Kennedy murmured. “And you’re going to have plenty of time for that.”
God he hoped so. His last conversation with Briana hadn’t gone well and he needed her to know that he’d always have her back, even if she’d fallen for a wraith.
Tristan turned his face into his mate’s hair, letting her scent calm both man and cat. Long seconds later, he glanced at Sorcha. “So what now?”
The former huntress let out a breath. “Now we wait.”
“Welcome to your final challenge.”
Get the fuck on with it, Lucan thought. He didn’t shiver against the glacial breeze that shrieked in warning where they stood halfway up the side of a dormant volcano. Didn’t worry about what lay inside the mountain.
He thought only of winning. He would not fail at this, wouldn’t let Briana down the way he had countless times before.
He didn’t pay much attention to the others, but could sense their varying degrees of determination much the way he could sense an immortal’s fear. It was stronger with some—Vaughn, Kel, Elena—than the others.
Nessa was the wild card. She hadn’t won any challenges but had tried talking him out of even considering the idea of trading Excalibur for Briana—if he won—numerous times since the end of their last challenge two days ago.
Two days without Briana.
He’d gone lifetimes without her by his side, but every minute apart now was sucking another piece of him back down into darkness. He should have been starving by now, but even the little blood he’d taken from Briana continued to sustain him, strengthen him. Rarely crossing paths with others like him, there was no one to offer any explanations for why that was.
Lucan was really starting to hate how the wraith, always content to deal in death and suffering, now had an answer for everything.
“Inside you will find the Onyx Beast. Subdue him and bring him to the altar where these will be waiting for you.” Aren held up the chains the Lady of the Lake had given Briana.
Lucan couldn’t shake the suspicion that something was off about the whole damn competition. Each round seemed to involve setting up the next one. The stones in Tintagel, according to Briana, had been used to gain entrance to the Catacombs. The scroll for that challenge served as a map for the next. The chains would be used to restrain the beast, though he couldn’t figure out how Treasach’s Moon fit yet.
“When the chains are in place,” Aren continued, “the final competition will end and the winner proclaimed.”
The group of immortals said nothing.
Maeve’s grin slipped. “There will be no interference from either of us should actions be taken to eliminate another competitor.”
So all bets were off then.
Lucan didn’t mind in the least. For centuries he’d allowed himself to be haunted by what he was capable of, wraith or no wraith, and now he embraced it. How ironic that to save Briana he would need to become the worst version of himself.
“Is that it?” He cut his gaze to Maeve, impatient to finish this.
The goddess narrowed her eyes, then nodded to Aren. Next to him, Treasach’s Moon appeared, her eyes blindfolded and her hands restrained behind her back.
“We’ve upheld our end of the bargain.” Maeve said to no one in particular.
The wraith shook violently deep inside him, the Korrigan’s proximity rousing every murderous instinct his darker half possessed.
“Don’t be stupid,” Kel hissed against Lucan’s ear.
The dragon couldn’t be talking about grabbing the Korrigan by the throat. That was the smartest decision Lucan could make from where he was standing.
The air stirred, another Korrigan joining them from nowhere. Menace slithered off the older male who ignored everyone but the gods and the bound female with them.
Treasach’s Moon started to cry. In fear or relief, he wondered briefly. Not that he cared. She wouldn’t even be alive if the wraith had had his way.
