Destroying Tintagel wasn’t enough for the vengeful sorceress. She’d been determined to erase it from Avalon as though it had never existed. Had Morgana not felt compelled to thrust the great castle from Avalon, none of the mortal realm would have ever heard of King Arthur, heard the stories passed down from those who’d called Tintagel home when it had been shoved outside the veil.
Caught up in the past that was forever reaching into the present to haunt him, Lucan took his time circling the cavern, pausing once more before the statue. As though he’d been there, the artist had captured the near desperate determination on Arthur’s face as he gripped the hilt of Excalibur.
A reluctant grin caught the corner of Lucan’s mouth. Dozens of stories had been told about the sword and the stone and none of them had gotten it right. Historians and philosophers alike would be shocked to know that sword had been drawn to fight off the men Arthur had just robbed.
And Lucan had helped him.
Steeling himself against the fuzzy memories that tried to rise up, he turned away from the statue and gave himself over to his phantom self. It made moving between tunnels much easier.
He’d long ago grown accustomed to the sensation of becoming nothing, losing everything but his consciousness, which could so easily be consumed by an uncontrollable blood lust.
He might have wanted to apologize to Briana for what he’d said, but it didn’t make it any less true. If caught on the edge of losing his mind to a hunger he was denying himself, like what had happened in the alley, he knew full well he could be capable of eliminating anything that stood in his way of being free of such a curse.
If he dared to believe such a thing was possible.
The walls shook with the force of a dragon’s roar, followed by a scream—a woman’s. Elena maybe, or the enchantress. Not Briana.
He ignored the sounds of the brewing fight, half hoping their fighting would collapse the walls on top of them, wherever they were. When he reached another tunnel, he slowed. He had no idea the corridors beneath the castle had been so vast. He doubted any human archeologist knew either or there would be signs of excavation.
Gliding soundlessly across the floor, part of the shadows that clung to his soul, he kept his distance when he spotted the familiar dark-haired female in front of him.
“I know you’re there, Lucan.”
Surprised she’d noticed him so easily, he hesitated. She’d never picked up on his presence in his phantom form as far as he knew, not if he hadn’t wanted her to. Had the troll’s blood that weakened his healing also affected his ability to go undetected?
Briana didn’t look back or pause to see if he followed when she turned down another corridor. He kept his distance at first, keeping only the glow of the torch she carried in view, and a few tunnel twists and turns later, he eventually caught up to her.
He couldn’t imagine they were beneath the castle any longer, but magic could be deceptive, and it had taken a lot of it to push Tintagel beyond the veil.
Briana stopped, her gaze locked on the wall to her right. Her brows scrunched together, making her appear even younger, more vulnerable than her early twenties when she’d reached maturity and frozen into her immortality.
“How long do you plan on following me?” She pressed a hand to the stone wall, her frown deepening.
“I wasn’t following you.” He emerged from the shadows, his booted feet scuffing the stones beneath him as he took solid form once more.
Briana set her torch down and tested the wall with both hands. “Do you feel that?” She shoved at the stone face and the wall shook in a way that shouldn’t have been possible regardless of the castle’s age or Briana’s strength.
Brushing the loose hair from her face, she faced him, then gestured down the dark corridor for him to continue on his way.
Leaving her wasn’t an option. Not with Kel and the Fae wandering around.
He walked past her, then planted both palms on the wall next to where hers had been. “These old castles walls are stronger than they look.”
She cast him a wary look, but lifted her hands to push again. Even with both of them shoving at the wall it took time for it to give way. It slid a few inches in and then either age or design made the stones buckle and crumble.
They both fell through the opening, chunks of stone and mortar raining down on them. He lifted his head to ask Briana if she was okay, but the words never made it past his lips.
The hidden room was a treasure trove. Literally.
Mountains of gems and coins and weapons forged in precious metal competed with gems of every shape and size imaginable. Fabric that looked like spun waterfalls was piled two-men tall and twice as deep. Statues and artifacts foreign even to Lucan lined the walls.
“Sweet Avalon,” Briana murmured. She staggered to her feet next to him, and they took a step deeper into the room.
More gems were pressed right into the ceiling and walls.
“Like a needle in a haystack, huh?” Briana stepped into the corridor long enough to grab the torch she’d set aside.
“This isn’t a game.”
She surveyed the mountains of treasure and glanced back at him. “And here I thought we were playing for bragging rights.” He scowled, and she rolled her eyes. “I was joking. Maybe you should spend more time looking for the gems and less pretending like we’re working as some kind of team. We’re competitors now, right?”
The sound of gravel crunching underfoot had them both spinning around. He grabbed Briana and tugged her against the wall, out of immediate sight of the opening. She froze next to him, her gaze locked on the wall. She reached for something, her hand blocking the view. She gripped whatever it was and tugged, her elbow jerking back and knocking into a stand loaded down with ropes of gold and coins two inches thick.
Voices carried down the corridor at the same time the stand that rocked precariously tilted to the side. His hand shot out to steady it, but the jewel encrusted chalice on top was already falling.
He and Briana reached to catch the cup at the same time, and when his fingers grazed the chalice, pain punched through his head, and everything went dark.
“We were told it was time to retire.”
Briana peeked through the opening in her tent. She scowled over her shoulder at her best friend, Sheara, then resumed her watch. In the distance a burst of flame lit up the summer night sky, and voices cheered.
“If you disobey your parents…” Sheara warned.
“Then I’ll be no different than my brothers.” Her brothers who were out there enjoying the festival despite the lateness of the hour.
“Your father—”
“Won’t know.” Briana turned from the door, frowning at the clothes Sheara had discarded in favor of preparing for bed. “You’re truly not coming?”
“And have my own parents refuse to let me accompany you again?”
“We’re no longer children,” Briana argued, but recognized the stubborn light in her friend’s eye. It didn’t matter that Briana was only months from settling into her immortality. Until then, she was expected to respect her parents’ wishes.
Maybe if she was more like Sheara, Briana would be content to go to bed. Knowing her brothers had carried on far later than this when they’d been shy of freezing into their own immortal skin didn’t help. Even now the three were among the hundreds who’d gathered for the celebration. King Arthur’s presence had drawn an even bigger crowd than usual.