The sick feeling in her stomach at the thought of Lucan discovering the truth worsened. “Who?” she asked, though she was sure she knew.
“Rhiannon. We belong to her.”
If the wraith knew then…
“He doesn’t know.” The raspy voice, both foreign and familiar, did nothing to reassure her that Lucan hadn’t pieced the truth together. He’d obviously been curious about the sun’s effect on her.
“But you do.”
The wraith nodded.
Briana’s head throbbed from trying to make sense of everything. “How?”
Another smug grin. “I fear nothing.”
A killing machine who spoke in riddles. Even better.
Sensing the tension mounting between the others, she knew she had to figure out something before they turned on each other.
Feeling the Fae’s gaze, Briana turned toward him. She couldn’t do anything about the wraith at the moment, but maybe she stood a chance of getting to the bottom of whoever had brought them here.
The wraith stayed close—too close—and she did her best to ignore him as she approached the Fae. Not nearly as simple as it should have been when the wraith’s gaze never left her.
“What’s your name?”
The Fae took his time looking away from the wraith. “Bran.”
“Have you heard of this happening before?” She wasn’t prepared to voice her theory about the Gauntlet. There was no telling what that would do to the gathered immortals. As it was, they didn’t need a reason to be at each other’s throat.
“I’ve heard many things.” Bran tilted his head to indicate her shadow. “But not of a gargoyle with a wraith bodyguard. Impressive, though I wouldn’t trust him not to turn on you. Only Rhiannon can tame them entirely.”
That wasn’t a conversation she was having with anyone but Lucan. “Do you know who brought us here?”
“Perhaps.”
The wraith tensed beside her. Because of the Fae? Or the huntress walking back toward them?
Nessa, who’d given up on arguing with the Korrigan, crossed her arms. “Perhaps Briana will tolerate your games, but I lack the patience.”
“And also your sword,” Bran reminded her, smirking.
“Are you refusing to tell us what you know?” Nessa looked like she was really hoping he would.
“We don’t need to pick fights with each other,” Briana put in, though she knew it was a waste of time. If Nessa wanted to pick a fight there would be no talking her out of it.
“Don’t be naive.” Bran gestured to the group. “Look around. If we were meant to get along there wouldn’t be a thieving Korrigan among us, a member of a race so desperate for acceptance they enslave others to keep them company. Or a fledgling sorceress so abusive with her magic half of Avalon would sell their children to get even with her.”
“Only half?” Elena mused.
Bran ignored her. “Who would put a huntress within striking distance of Arthur’s betrayer? Or a knight, now a slave to the creature within, capable of killing all of us?”
Kel snorted.
The wraith merely smiled, but Briana suspected his amusement stemmed from thinking of ripping the Fae’s head from his body. Or maybe the dragon’s. Probably both.
Bran didn’t seem to notice or care what the wraith was thinking when he turned back to Briana. “What would you have all us do? Do Tequila shots and sing karaoke?”
“I could go for a drink right about now,” Vaughn muttered.
“Whatever we were brought here for,” Bran continued, “I guarantee it was not to get along.”
“That’s your opinion.” The Korrigan rose to his full height, barely reaching the Fae’s chest. “Assuming you’re not the one who brought us here.”
“Hardly.”
“And we’re just supposed to take your word on that?”
The Fae didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “Believe what you want.”
“Or maybe I’ll just make you tell us what you know,” the Korrigan challenged, the black veins beneath his dark complexion zigzagging across his face.
From somewhere behind her, Briana heard the dragon laugh and knew it was pointless to try and prevent any bloodshed. The best she could hope for was to stay out of the crossfire.
Chapter Six
Lucan finally felt the wraith retreat and mentally tightened his grip on the reins. With the exception of a few moments, he’d remained vaguely aware of what was happening around him.
Still, his control hadn’t slipped like it had in the alley or now in over two centuries. What had changed?
He glanced down at his hand, pulling off the make-shift bandage. The gashes from punching the brick had finally closed and no longer looked as red and angry, but still throbbed when he flexed his hand.
He vanished his sword despite the wraith’s protest. His dark side lingered much too close to the surface.
“Not another word, wench!” The Korrigan puffed up his chest, glaring at Nessa.
The huntress lunged for the dark fairy, looking like she wanted to tear him in half.
“Oh my, has the competition started without us?”
Like everyone else, Lucan turned at the sound of the new voice behind them, careful to keep both the Fae and Kel, the two genuine threats to Briana—he hadn’t made up his mind about the wolf—in his peripheral vision.
He wasn’t sure how many more unexpected guests they could handle before somebody did more than lunge. The tension in the courtyard was thick enough to choke on.
Briana angled her body toward him. The relieved expression on her face when she met his gaze faded much too quickly. If the others were tense, the weight of the world seemed to sit squarely on Briana’s shoulders, and he knew he was to blame for that.
Resisting the urge to fill the space she put between them, he glanced at the couple dressed like medieval royalty. It took half a second to realize they had just become the biggest obstacle to getting Briana home. He’d promised Tristan that he’d keep her safe and here she was surrounded by those capable of enslaving her or burning her to a crisp.
And then there was the wraith.
The darkest part of him grew increasingly curious about her. With immortals all but going for each other’s throat, the wraith should have lost interest in Briana, not stuck close to her.
Shaded by the largest blossom-covered tree, the couple’s faces were shadowed, yet the tease of power they exuded rode on the air like a mist, thickening and weaving around Lucan.
Had the Fae been right? Were the gods responsible for their abduction? If a Campaign was brewing, then sleeping gods would awake—and look for recruits.
“My apologies for bringing you here without your consent. My brother can be rather impulsive at times.” Beautiful to the point her face looked like chiseled porcelain, the red-haired female stepped away from the tree.
Even Kel, who lounged in the sun, unaffected by the Fae’s earlier remarks, stood, his gaze following the goddess’s casual stroll around the perimeter of the courtyard while her brother remained beneath the protective shelter of the tree.
Lucan edged a little closer to Briana, not fooled by the goddess’s interest in the courtyard’s lush greenery. Whoever they were, Lucan had to appreciate any circumstance that brought Kel to him, even if it had been arranged by a god.
The last time he’d seen Kel, the dragon had broken ranks during the battle of Camlann, fleeing with a handful of his men and leaving Arthur open to attack, which Mordred had taken full advantage of.
A respected leader in the Guard, Kel had also been a close friend to Lucan and Arthur, making his betrayal slice even deeper. Their days spent training as brothers in arms and nights drinking and competing as friends had meant nothing to the dragon. When the stakes had been the highest, Kel had turned his back on them, leaving them all for dead.