“Don’t be too long. Your mother may very well check on us.” Sheara advised, knowing Briana hadn’t stopped to consider the possibility.
Grinning, she crossed the tent to the coverings on the ground that would serve as a bed. She arranged two spare gowns under the covers, as though she’d chosen to sleep in her animal form.
Despite her refusal to come, Sheara laughed and tucked herself in. “Be careful. There are many unfamiliar faces among the King’s men.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to insist no one would harm her for fear of facing her brothers, but knew better. The recent battles as Arthur’s half-sister, Morgana, waged war, with her son at the helm of their armies, had proven there were many in Avalon who couldn’t be trusted.
“Sleep well and I will tell you of my adventures in the morning.” Grinning, Briana slipped from the tent, watching for her brothers should they have left the celebrations in favor of returning to their family’s tents.
It was so unlikely, she nearly laughed out loud at the mere thought.
Hearing voices nearby, Briana ducked around the side of the tent, then another and nearly ran smack into her own parents. Both stood with their backs to her, their laughter rising over the music from a group of musicians close by.
With the sound of her wild heart drowned out by the flutes and drums, she retraced her steps, skirting the edge of the sprawling encampment, watching everyone from a careful distance until she was well away from her family.
She shouldn’t have to skulk around the shadows while her brothers cavorted with friends and warriors alike. Had she been born a male, she would have been able to join the Guard already. She hadn’t yet forgiven Cian for leaving her behind when he’d spent years insisting a life of service was not for him. Meeting Arthur had changed everything for him—for all her brothers—and while they fought for Camelot and Avalon, she was expected to pursue more feminine pastimes.
She kicked at a branch lying across the flattened grass beneath her feet. She paused beneath a twisting tree at the edge of the clearing, watching her clansmen laughing and drinking. Lots of drinking. Music followed her as she rounded the next gathering of tents. Voices mingled and carried, stories of recent skirmishes with Morgana and Mordred’s army competing with epic tales about the first Campaign.
She lingered near a group of men, listening to the tales of a dragon gargoyle so fierce he’d nearly destroyed an entire legion of Mordred’s men. All too quickly the talk turned to other victories, ones that included bedding women.
Having spent so much time with her brothers—both to their and their mother’s annoyance—she wasn’t nearly as innocent as Sheara when it came to men and women. Still, her ears were burning by the time she heard a familiar voice rise above the others in the gathered men.
Her oldest brother, Cale, said something she didn’t catch, but judging by the raunchy laughter that followed, it was just as well. By the time she retreated deeper into the cover of trees, her animal half hungered to run nearly as much the woman hungered to live as she wished and not as expected.
The darkness didn’t affect her vision as she wandered along familiar trails. Earlier that afternoon she’d found not one, but all three of her brothers when they’d questioned her tracking skills. For the third year in a row, she’d tracked each of them easily, enjoying their exasperation a little too much.
Smiling over the memory of that, she edged down a mossy embankment leading to the edge of the lake. Though night had fallen hours before she’d been sent to bed, the warmth of the day lingered.
Lifting her hair off the back of her neck, she picked her way down the steepest part of the hill.
Splash.
She froze, and scanned the surface of the lake. Nothing moved and no scent of nearby animals or gargoyles carried on the breeze.
A fish then?
Unconcerned, she sat beneath the branches of a tree that reached over the lake’s glassy surface. She unlaced her boots, letting her feet touch the dewy grass.
Another splash sounded a moment before her gaze found the dark head that surfaced in the middle of the lake. Too far for her to make out the face, Briana remained still, waiting.
Broad strokes carried him closer, and the man’s feet finally found the bottom of the lake. He stood, his body caught in the moonlight. Scars that might have been hidden in shadow were easy to make out, along with the muscles that defined a warrior’s body.
He glanced up the hill, seemingly unaware of her, and she recognized the face of the boy who’d teased her nearly as much as her own brothers had.
Lucan.
At least four summers had passed since they’d last seen each other, and in moments it became painfully clear that Lucan was far from the childhood boy she remembered.
He waded toward shore, and Briana immediately lowered her gaze, her face heating as he emerged from the water and strode to where his clothes lay in a pile on the narrow, rocky shoreline.
She lifted her head enough to peek through her lowered lashes. She should let him know she was there, but what if he told her brothers he’d seen her wandering about? As much as she welcomed the opportunity to point out the unfairness, she knew from experience—namely her parents’ punishment—that it would be pointless.
So she remained perfectly still, drawing on animal instinct.
Only once more did he glance in her direction, and she didn’t dare look away, knowing even the slightest movement might betray her presence.
Laughter broke the nocturnal quiet, but no one approached the lake. The nearby voices, loud and thick with slurred words, eventually faded to match the muted celebration in the meadow.
Lucan dressed, leaving his shirt for last. The long scar on his back appeared almost silvery under the moon’s light, the mark twisting along the side of his spine and up to his shoulder.
From training to be one of Arthur’s knights?
She knew in a few days’ time he would take his vows and drink from the Grail that would make him immortal like the half-god, Arthur. The event was just one more reason so many had gathered at this year’s festival. Many more would likely follow Arthur on to Tintagel and then Camelot where the ceremony would be completed.
Lucan picked up his sword and threw his shirt over his shoulder, leaving his chest bare as he made his way up the incline.
Briana didn’t move until the soon-to-be immortal disappeared over the hill, likely headed back to join the celebration. She stared at the spot he’d disappeared from view for a long moment, half wishing she’d had the courage to let him know she was there.
She finally stood, waiting for the breeze to confirm she was alone before walking down to the edge of the water. Lucan had certainly looked older than the last time they’d met, more seasoned, as her brothers had when they’d taken up arms for Arthur.
He hadn’t been the only one to change, she thought, glancing down at herself. Would he have noticed she’d left her girlhood behind or still view her as a child the way her brothers did?
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. He was gone now and she knew full well she’d be better off if their paths didn’t cross.
Cool water rushed over her toes, and she sighed in pleasure, tipping her head back to stare at the full moon partially hidden by the trees across the lake.
The breeze shifted, bringing with it the scent of someone directly behind her. A crack sounded and she tensed, prepared to whirl around and face the potential threat, only to be held in place by the arm at her waist.
“You risk much being alone at night, kitten.”
She barely recognized the voice, but the scent she knew.
“Knighthood has made you almost as sneaky as a cat, Luc.” Few could sneak up on her like he’d just done. The wind had favored his approach.