The sorceress winked at him. “And I always collect.”
The next moment the sorceress and the Grail vanished, leaving them alone with Merlin. He crouched next to Rhiannon, stroking her hair.
“You still love her,” Lucan said, absently running his hand down Briana’s back.
Merlin raised his head. “Perhaps.”
“Is she still alive?”
“She sleeps, much like Arthur.” He stood. “There’s a reason gods do not procreate.”
Lucan glanced at the dagger that had been crafted by Constantine, who carried Arthur’s life force. “Aside from the swords, they’re vulnerable to pieces of themselves.” Rhiannon’s own son had been her weakness. “And the Gauntlet?”
Merlin shrugged. “If it had been the real thing, she’s the only one who would have survived.” He nodded to Briana. “You’re not easy to kill.”
The cat bared her teeth at him.
“Did Arthur know you were his father?” Lucan asked.
“No.”
“Did he know he would die that day at Camlann?”
Merlin took his time answering. “No. Even the events that seem so clear have a way of changing. Nothing is static. I know that better than anyone and yet…” Crouching once more, he placed his hand on Rhiannon. “I’m taking her to the huntresses. They’ll be her best protection for now.” Right before he vanished, he said, “I’ll be in touch.”
Hours later Briana hadn’t moved from Lucan’s side. Not even when Tristan insisted on speaking to her alone, code for talking some sense into her.
All three of her brothers and their mates had walked into a disaster zone less than an hour after both Morgana and Merlin disappeared.
“So what I don’t understand,” Kennedy began, the youngest immortal among them, “is why Arthur didn’t die the way Mordred did since they both had swords from the gods.”
Lucan ran his fingers back and forth across Briana’s wrist. “To make Constantine his heir, Arthur had to bind their life forces. As long as Constantine lives, there’s a chance of resurrecting Arthur.
“So why did Maeve and Aren give a sword to Morgana?” The question came from Sorcha who sat perched on the arm of the chair, next to Cale. Although her oldest brother hadn’t wanted to attack Lucan on sight like Tristan had, his brows scrunched together every time Lucan went out of his way to touch her.
“Contributing to Arthur’s death was a way for Maeve and Aren to hurt Rhiannon.”
“So with Rhiannon out of commission, where does that leave us?” Kennedy glanced at Sorcha. “Have your abilities changed?”
“No. My guess would be everything Rhiannon had in place remains the same as long as she’s technically not dead.” The former huntress glanced at Lucan. “You?”
“The wraith is still a part of me.”
Briana squeezed his hand. There hadn’t been time to talk about how he felt now that the wraith wouldn’t be going anywhere. But with Rhiannon out of the picture, he no longer had to worry about being compelled to carry out her orders.
Tristan shook his head. “I still can’t believe that Morgana is the reason you’re still alive.”
“And her connection to Merlin…” Emma shook her head, leaning back into Cian’s chest where they sat on the floor. “Mind blowing. Do you think that’s why Arthur could never get close enough to kill her? That Merlin was protecting her?”
Lucan shrugged. “I’m still having trouble getting past the fact that he can get inside immortals and run the show whenever he feels like it.”
Cale nodded. “So what happens now? I mean, will Maeve just give up or is the next Campaign and the real Gauntlet about to start as we speak?”
No one had an answer for that.
Briana rubbed her head, massaging the vicious ache hammering between her temples since she’d drunk from the Grail. Exhaustion pulled at her limbs, but she didn’t want to sleep, not yet. She wasn’t done with just holding on to Lucan, still trying to convince herself that they’d found a way to beat the odds that had been stacked against them from the beginning.
Tristan crossed his arms, watching her. “You need to rest.”
“I will.”
“You almost died.” Her brother narrowed his eyes at Lucan.
Her mate cocked his head, then met her gaze, a hint of a grin catching the corners of his mouth. “I think he wants me to act like an animal and just carry you off to bed over my shoulder.”
“Do not push me, wraith.”
“Or?” Lucan drawled, his voice the perfect balance of himself and his feral half. But Lucan understood what she wanted. Neither of them were prepared to sacrifice a moment, not even for sleep. Not yet.
Kennedy stood. “I don’t know about Briana, but I’m exhausted.” She tugged Tristan’s hand.
Tristan’s attention drifted back to Briana, and she nodded. There was still plenty to be said before Tristan would accept Lucan’s role in her life, but she didn’t have a doubt in her mind that he would.
“I’m tired too.” Sorcha nudged Cale. “I vote for picking this up tomorrow at Pendragon’s.” Cale nodded and stood.
“Hold on tight, tiger,” Sorcha warned, then flashed the two of them away.
“Think he gets motion sickness from that?” Cian pulled himself and Emma to their feet. He gave Tristan a stern look. “No dueling at dawn, bro. We’ll see you guys in the morning.” The pair walked out of the room, presumably to Cian’s wing of the house.
It took another minute of coaxing for Kennedy to persuade Tristan to leave the room.
“He hates me,” Lucan groaned when they were alone.
She cupped his face. “He’ll come around.”
“This century or next?” He leaned his head back against the couch. He stared off into space for a moment. “You were right.”
“Of course I was,” she answered, grinning. She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but the way she took credit for it made him smile. She knew she’d never get enough of the devastating curve of his lips.
“About the wraith,” he lapsed into silence, and she rested her head on his shoulder, content to let him sort through it on his own. “He was protecting me. And regardless of what Rhiannon did to me, she didn’t create the wraith, not entirely.”
She tipped her head back, watching him frown.
“I think there’s always been a deeper, darker part of me. The same part that we all have, that always finds a way to survive. Maybe the wraith is just an extension of that instinct.”
“Maybe,” she agreed. The only one who really knew exactly what had been done to all of Arthur’s knights was out of commission.
Like Tristan, Lucan would need time to adjust, and although she didn’t say it, she was pretty sure the deeper, darker part of him wouldn’t be nearly as much of a concern as he feared.
Her knees barely shook when she stood and held her hand out. “I don’t want to sleep but I’m not opposed to being carried out of here over your—”
Lucan flipped her up and over his shoulder. “Say no more.”
Less than twelve hours later she was ready to carry
“Can I take the blindfold off yet?” The damn thing was itchy, but she hadn’t stopped smiling. Not even Tristan’s continued foul mood at Pendragon’s this morning had put a dent in the drugging euphoria that accompanied waking up in Lucan’s arms.
“Soon.”
