They’d figure out the rest.
Both of them were breathing hard when she pulled away, smoothing her hand across his jaw, unable to stop from touching him. “We need to make some plans.” They couldn’t stay here with Excalibur in their possession. It was too risky.
“I know.” He stole another kiss, lingering over her lips. “And you need to eat something.” He glanced down at her growling stomach and grinned.
“Something quick.” That along with a shower, and then they’d need to get moving.
She started toward the kitchen, her limp still a little pronounced.
Lucan caught her gently around the waist. “Stay here.” He handed her the sword. “I’ll get you something. Just be prepared to come to my rescue if Tristan comes home.”
She tried not to wince. She hadn’t managed to get hold of any of her brothers yet. “He’ll get used to it. They all will.”
Lucan snorted, but left her without saying anything about snowballs in hell.
Alone, she stared at the sword, the mark on the hilt looked…off to her. She’d never held Excalibur before so why did the mark stick in her head? She closed her eyes, mentally hunting for whatever made her think she’d seen it before.
It reminded her of the Gauntlet symbol, but like the bottom half of it had been scratched off…
In the catacombs, the other mural…
More than one. She jumped to her feet. There had been more than one sword. “Lucan!”
On her feet, she limped toward the kitchen, making it only halfway across the room. The Fae materialized in the room, throwing out his hand the moment his gaze landed on her.
Old magic plowed into her, slamming her into the wall. The sword they’d been told was Excalibur landed at her feet. She reached for the weapon, but the Fae beat her to it.
“I’m sorry.” He drove the blade into her abdomen.
Lucan had already turned around when something hit the wall. He sprinted the last few steps, and some of the tension drained from his spine when Briana stepped into the doorway just as he reached it.
And then he noticed the blood seeping through her fingers.
No.
She fell into him, crying out when he tried to break her fall. Sheltering her in his arms, he scanned the room behind her, but they were alone.
What the fuck happened?
Blood covered both of them by the time he lowered her to the ground, and his fingers shook as she tried to check her wound.
“Who did this?” He heard the wraith’s voice leave his mouth, though he was still firmly in control.
“The Fae.” She nodded to the floor just inside the door. “It’s not Excalibur.” She cried out, her claws sinking into his arm as he peeled back her shirt. “It’s Mordred’s sword.”
His eyes closed. Not Briana. He couldn’t lose her already. It was too soon, and not fucking like this.
Breath frozen in his chest, he didn’t ask how she knew about Mordred’s sword or why the gods had intentionally misled them. He needed to stop the bleeding first. Everything else came second.
She stopped his hand. “It won’t heal.”
He couldn’t accept that, not even as the sword lay there, taunting him, her blood darkening the blade. Sweat dampened her forehead. The fever was already setting in.
Snatching the sword off the floor, he stood. “Rhiannon!”
Jostled, Briana hissed out a breath, fear creeping into her eyes as she stared up at him.
“Rhiannon!” He yelled for the goddess until he was hoarse. “Rhiannon, show yourself.”
“Luc.” Briana held a hand up to him.
Throat on fire, he dropped next to her, wanting to haul her into his arms but knew how much pain it would cause her.
“You disappear, refusing my call, and then you think to summon me?”
Lucan’s head snapped up at the sound of Rhiannon’s voice. The goddess stood in the middle of the room, her long red hair pulled back from her face, gold arm bands that still carried the crest of Camelot snug around her biceps. She didn’t look impressed, and that made the fear and anger ripping through his gut even worse.
“Save her.”
“You do not command me, wraith.”
He squeezed Briana’s hand, the blood so dark against her already pale skin. “Help her!”
The goddess looked at Briana long enough for him to know that Rhiannon recognized her. Her gaze drifted to the sword at his side. “Where did you get that?”
“It’s yours.” He stood and threw it at her feet. “Everything is yours. Just…save her. Please. Take the sword, take my fucking soul, but help her.”
“You could ask me for anything in exchange for that sword, even your freedom, and you want me to help a gargoyle?”
“My freedom means nothing if she dies.”
Although he had the sword to offer, he was still a little stunned when she crouched next to Briana. Her eyes softened, and he felt hope creep through him.
She shook her head. “It’s impossible.”
“No.” That wasn’t good enough. She could do this. She could save Briana.
Lucan dropped to his knees. He’d thought about making the goddess suffer over and over for what she’d done to him, done to everyone who’d loved and trusted Arthur, but he’d never imagined himself begging her for anything. “Please.”
“I couldn’t save my own son.”
He clenched his jaw so hard the pain radiated across his skull. There had to be another way. He looked at where Briana lay. Her lip trembled but she tried for a smile. Just like Arthur had.
She knew she was going to die.
“There must be something,” he tried again, panic clawing up through his chest.
“I’m sorry. There isn’t.”
His eyes slid closed, and then he felt Briana’s hand on his knees. He bent and touched his forehead to hers. “I won’t let you go.”
“This wasn’t your fault.”
“No.” His voice shook, and it took a moment to speak without his voice cracking. “I promised.” Godfuckingdamn. This wasn’t doing everything he could to keep them together. “Don’t leave me, Briana. You can’t.” He needed her too much.
“Luc, I don’t want to suffer like Arthur.” She cupped his cheek, raising his face to meet her gaze. “I don’t want to die like that.”
Her meaning sank in, and his heart cracked wide open. “Don’t ask me…” the words stuck in his throat. He could not take her life. He wouldn’t.
Interlocking their fingers, he thought of what Kel said to him about keeping his shit together.
“The Fae,” he said to Rhiannon. “Bran. He did this. Why?” Maybe if he could figure out the reason, then just maybe…
Rhiannon eyes widened. “Bran? Impossible. He’s looking after—”
The goddess whirled mid-sentence, her arms going up to block the fist that came out of nowhere.
Maeve and Aren stood opposite Rhiannon, a familiar-looking dagger in Aren’s hand. One of Constantine’s?
Lucan hadn’t even wrapped his mind around all three gods standing only a few feet away when Maeve dove for the sword.
Lucan kicked it out of reach, then retreated, keeping Briana behind him. The goddess snarled at him, then pivoted back in time to see Aren stumble away from Rhiannon.
Taking advantage of the goddess’s distraction, he slipped his arm under Briana and dragged her out into the hall. Briana screamed in agony before gritting her teeth through the end of it, and the wraith howled.
“It hurts,” she panted.
“I know, kitten.”
Ten feet away the wall disintegrated under the force of the three gods slamming into it. He needed to get her out of there before they brought the whole damn house on top of them.