“They’re wet.” They weren’t, of course, but I really didn’t want to get into explanations right now.
“And this is problematic why?”
A smile tugged at my lips. “I hate wet shoes.”
“That is a ridiculous statement, and one that could have come out of your grandmother’s mouth. How’s the arm?”
“Painful, but there’s not much we can do about that right now. We need to get off the island before that damn boat they called arrives. You might have the strength to fight hordes more, but I’m just about out of it.”
He nodded, sheathed Hecate, then—before I could protest, though in truth it would only have been a token effort—swept me up into his arms and strode down the ridge toward the path and the bridge. I smiled and leaned against his chest. Every breath was filled with the musk of man and sweat, and it had an oddly calming effect. Or maybe that was a result of the tenderness with which he held me and the steady beating of his heart under my ear. He was strength and caring and harmony, and just for a moment, I absolutely believed that Vivienne’s dream of unity for our long-tortured souls would finally come true.
Which was utterly stupid given the shit storm of darkness that still lay ahead. Then there was the whole problem of the sword concealed in the SUV and what it actually meant for the two of us.
As the deeper darkness caused by the overhanging trees closed around us, I said, “What do you know about the shield on the arch?”
“Probably nothing more than you do.” He glanced down at me, features shadowed, but jade eyes glowing with awareness. “Why?”
“Because when I crossed the bridge earlier, it reacted to me.”
He frowned, something I felt more than saw. “Are you sure it wasn’t a trick of the light?”
“Positive.”
“But—” He paused. “That would mean it’s connected to one of the witch kings, and as far as I’m aware, it’s a replica, not the real thing. It’s too small to be of any use in a battle, for a start.”
“That’s what I thought, but maybe that’s another of Mryddin’s tricks.”
“It’s possible.” His voice held a mix of doubt and concern. “But why is it reacting to you now when it’s never done so before?”
I hesitated, internally bracing for his disbelief. “Remember Mo’s theory about me being the true Witch King’s heir?”
His amusement sang through me. “I could hardly forget, given the tongue lashing she gave me for not believing it possible a woman could draw the sword.”
I smiled, but the inner tension remained. “Well, she wasn’t wrong. We found Elysian today and I drew her.”
“What?” He stopped abruptly. “Where is she?”
“In the car, with the crown.” I cupped his bristly face. “I’m sorry, Luc.”
“Why on earth are you sorry?”
“Because it’s not a fate you wanted—for me or for you.”
“What has my fate got to do with—”
“The role of the Blackbirds is to protect and guard the Witch King,” I cut in gently. “My drawing Elysian locks your fate into mine, whether you want it or not.”
And it also meant that what lay between us—the desire and the promises—might never be fulfilled, simply because Blackbirds traditionally didn’t mix business with pleasure. Not since Aldred had banished the Blackbird who’d dared to steal the heart of his queen, at any rate. The consequences of that event had rebounded endlessly through the centuries until we’d reached the current point—the two of us now facing the same damn decision even if I was now the “king” rather than his queen.
Which was no doubt exactly what Vivienne had planned all along.
He drew in a deep breath, inner turmoil briefly evident in the arms that held me so gently. I knew why—the woman in the red dress who I so often saw in his thoughts. He’d been assigned to guard her when he was much younger and had fallen in love in the process. She’d been snatched by demons on his watch and had died in a hecatomb despite his best efforts to save her. He’d sworn that day never again to mix duty and pleasure, and yet, here I was, another woman he was battling to resist.
He wouldn’t bend before it. Not this time. Not when his memories of that woman dying at his feet now bore my face and name.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily. “You drawing the sword doesn’t matter one way or another. My duty is with you regardless.”
“Because of Max?”
“Initially, perhaps. Things are not so clear now.” His mouth twisted, though it was as far from a smile as you could ever get. “Fate and an old goddess are very intent on controlling the narrative, aren’t they?”
“Old women—goddess or not—do tend to like getting their own way.”
“Mo being the perfect example of that.” He shook his head and continued on. “Where did you find Elysian?”
I filled him in on everything except for the discovery that I’d inherited Mo’s mage genes, and then added, “Will you be able to hide Elysian in much the same manner as you hide Hecate? Mo believes it best if I keep her with me at all times, but Darkside can’t know that.”
“Then why tell them she existed at all? It might buy us some time while they attempt to uncover the truth of that, but in the end it will only intensify the attacks on you.”
“Yes, but I can defend myself.”
“The lightning takes a severe toll on your body and your strength and, if they swamp you, you will eventually be overrun. Besides, they can’t actually touch Elysian.”
Which was something we knew thanks to the fact that after Uhtric’s horse had been cut from beneath him and the sword had slipped from his grasp, the dark elf who’d tried to claim it had been instantly incinerated. “And that’s the whole point—the only person who possibly can is Max.”
“So you made yourself bait? And Mo agreed to this madness?”
“It’s the safest way of drawing Max out of the shadows.”
“The safest way would be to use his hair or something similar to make a tracker.”
“Something we may yet be forced to try, but the thing is—he’s well aware of Mo’s capability in that regard. He’ll have arranged some way to counter it.”
“And if he does take the bait?”
“I’ll have a decision to make.”
Did I try for reason and hope, or did I simply accept, once and for all, that the brother I’d grown up with only existed as an outer shell? That the real Max—the one I loved and who had loved me—had died long ago, replaced by greed, madness, and the need to conquer and rule.
“He’ll hardly come alone,” Luc said. “Not now.”
“I know. But I have Elysian, Nex, and Vita. I can counter anything he throws at me.”
“Anything except a bullet—and don’t think he won’t resort to that.”
“Others might. He won’t. He’s done what he can to protect me thus far, Luc. He’ll keep doing that until the bitter end.”
“I think you’re leaning too heavily on your memories of your brother, rather than the reality.”