“Uh-huh.” Kennedy eased out of his arms, but he kept her close by threading his fingers through hers. “Briana’s not the only one missing.”
Sorcha nodded as though that confirmed what she’d heard as well. “Nessa is missing too. And possibly Emma’s twin.”
“Isn’t the sorceress always disappearing?” Tristan asked. While trouble seemed to follow Emma, Elena created it.
“She was supposed to visit her mother at the Fae court and didn’t show.”
Kennedy tipped her head up to meet Tristan’s gaze. “It can’t be a coincidence they all disappeared around the same time.”
Meaning he needed to stop assuming the wraith was responsible for Briana’s disappearance. It hadn’t helped Lucan’s case that no one had been able to track him down either. Not unusual according to Sorcha. Rhiannon was known for assigning them tasks that could take them to the most remote parts of Earth or Avalon for months, even years at a time.
“Did you hear anything about the Gauntlet?” he asked. Emma had told them about the symbol Briana had been drawing and what it might mean. The thought of his sister in a death match…
Kennedy squeezed his hand.
Sorcha sighed. “Rhiannon says that if it’s happening, we won’t know until it’s over.”
“And she can’t find out?” Cale asked.
“No one makes her do anything she doesn’t want, but we’re not the only ones talking about the Gauntlet. Or the next campaign.”
“That’s why she gave you your powers back,” Cale guessed, still not looking happy about it.
Anger rose up in Tristan. “So if Rhiannon won’t help, who else would know more about the Gauntlet?”
Sorcha winced. “There may be someone, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
Chapter Ten
“Welcome to your next challenge,” Maeve’s voice rose like the sing-song call of the birds waking to the early morning in the forest behind them.
Briana shivered beneath the cool breeze, unsure whether the goose bumps crawling across her skin resulted from the weather or the location. In front of her loomed a dark, cave-like entrance to the catacombs, the monstrous opening poised to devour them.
She took an unintentional step back, drawn to the familiar scents of Avalon behind her.
Home.
The cat wanted to pad through the dewy grass and slink into the trees. The pull of it, a sharp longing to prowl the forest, dart over fallen limbs or take to the trees, tugged low in her abdomen.
She glanced over her shoulder, noticed the same considering look on Vaughn’s face. Kel’s as well. The dragon glanced her way, not bothering to hide his uneasiness in the shifting of his stance.
Every instinct warned Briana to be anywhere but here.
Intent on listening to the rules, she focused on the goddess, who hadn’t appeared since the start of the last competition. Although they’d remained absent, Briana had no doubt Maeve and her brother were fully aware of everything that transpired in the house. They’d probably taken notes, planning on using what they’d learned to further complicate subsequent challenges.
Lucan’s arm brushed hers, and the tension coiling within the cat eased a bit. She felt his eyes on her, but kept her attention fixed on Maeve and the mouth of the cave she imagined was about to slam shut, deeming them unworthy of entering.
“Who’s the old dude?” Vaughn murmured, nudging her other arm.
Curious, she watched a man close to a century old shuffle forward. Human and slave-born, she realized, noting Morgana’s brand on the man’s arm. Shockingly white hair fell into the man’s eyes, his skin dark and weathered. The swollen joints in his hands curled around a walking stick.
He moved with the awkward gait of someone who didn’t trust their cane to keep them up, but something about the movement felt…exaggerated.
“This is Graegor. He will be your guide into the catacombs.” Maeve waited for the man to join her, her eyes narrowing as he paused in front of the entrance and bowed his head for a moment.
Praying?
Once he stood next to Maeve, she continued, a slight pout in her tone. “You will stay with Graegor and not explore any of the other chambers or tunnels, unless you wish to be left behind. Inside, one of you will retrieve the Scroll of Nogard. When the scroll is read aloud where I’m standing, the competition ends and you will again be returned to the mansion.”
It couldn’t possibly be as simple as it sounded.
“This way.” Maeve motioned everyone to the entrance. She handed Graegor something that looked a lot like the gemstones from Tintagel castle. Briana stopped. Why would Maeve give the Eyes of Afanc to Graegor?
Oblivious to Briana’s scrutiny, the goddess disappeared and Graegor limped over to lead the way. Once he crossed the threshold of the entrance—one of hundreds to the catacombs—his spine seemed a little straighter, his step more confident.
He glanced back only occasionally, his gaze straying to the Fae each time. Curious, she kept Bran in her line of sight. Did the two men know each other?
Presented with more questions and few answers, Briana stuck as close to the pair as she could as the passageway ahead narrowed and branched off. They stayed to the middle path, winding around corners, the ceiling low enough they had to duck in places.
Lucan jostled her from behind, the heat of his body making the warm tunnel almost suffocating. She breathed through her mouth, determined to avoid inhaling the scent that continued to unravel her. She couldn’t block out the sound of his footfalls behind her though, or stop herself from picturing where his hands might land if he got too close.
It could have been worse. She could’ve had Kel behind her. Instead the dragon walked ahead of her with Nessa right on his heels. If the close quarters weren’t enough to deal with, Kel had a huntress breathing down his neck.
Briana might have grinned if she didn’t have to contend with the six-foot-two male invading her personal space with every other step.
The trail eventually opened up, the air weighed down by the scent of damp earth and rotting vegetation. The humidity in the chamber stretched over her skin, settling on her chest as she pulled in each sticky breath.
And yet the chamber was empty.
Intricate columns were scattered across the chamber, each one painted with elaborate vines and branches. Tilting her head back, she discovered a rainforest canopy drawn across the chamber’s stone ceiling. Limbs and leaves crisscrossed overhead, appearing glossy from a recent shower, though it couldn’t have rained in there.
Could it?
Beneath their feet, the realistically painted maze of roots and vegetation covered the floor, prompting more than one of them to step carefully. At the sound of scurrying feet, Briana glanced down. The leaves near her feet stirred as though a creature had dived between the one-dimensional foliage.
Something crunched beneath Lucan’s feet. He lifted his foot and searched the ground for the source, and their gazes met.
She couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or annoyed that he didn’t appear to have taken the enchantress up on her offer. He had to be starving by now. How could he think he stood a chance of fighting off Kel or Nessa if he was too weak from hunger?
You don’t care.
The reminder didn’t stop her from watching him from the corner of her eye as they moved around the chamber.
Graegor limped toward the wall where paintings of the trees separated, revealing an altar of sorts. His post? The human’s gaze continued to follow Bran.
Distracted by the trickle of an unseen stream, she paused. “Where’s the water?”
“There.” Elena pointed to the streaks of blue peeking through a wall of leaves. Though the sorceress didn’t warn the others, she kept a careful distance.