Blackbird Broken (The Witch King's Crown Book 2)

by Keri Arthur

  “What if it leads to being ‘bound,’ as you so charmingly put it earlier?”

  The smile that twisted his lips was oddly self-deprecating. “The drive to Winchester did clear my head, but not in the manner I’d wished. It forced the conclusion that there would be far worse fates—”

  “Oh, be still by giddy heart,” I cut in dryly.

  “—than to go through life,” he continued, an odd sort of seriousness in his expression and eyes, “without ever exploring the full extent of what lies between us—not just physically but also emotionally.”

  My heart did another of those odd flip-flops. For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe. I just stared at him, unwilling to believe—after everything he’d said, after all the heartbreak and the determination I’d felt in him when I’d so briefly shared his memories of the woman he’d loved and lost—that he’d so readily pushed them all aside and was now willing to explore a relationship with me.

  Of course, there was the caveat of surviving the Darkside apocalypse first.

  “Nothing to say?” His expression was warm and amused. “That has to be a first.”

  “I’m just—” I stopped and shook my head. “Shocked by the fast turnaround, that’s all. I mean, even after that kiss yesterday, you were all ‘no way, no how.’”

  “I won’t ever regret that kiss, but damn, I should have known it would only lead to the decimation of my ability to stand firm.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a romantic.”

  “The romantic will make an appearance if and when we both survive. Do we have an agreement?”

  “Yes. Do you want to seal it with a kiss?”

  “No. Do you want to cover up?”

  “You surely have more control than to be undone by the sight of a half-naked woman?”

  “I thought so, until I met you.”

  “You have to at least shake on it.”

  He gave me a narrow-eyed gaze. “Only if you promise to behave.”

  I rolled my eyes. “We’re both adults. We can do this.”

  His raised eyebrow suggested he fully expected this to be another of my ploys. I smiled and held out a hand. He took it, and we shook.

  “Deal done. There’s no backing out of it now.”

  “There was no backing out of it almost from the minute we first met, up at the King’s Stone.” A wry smile touched his lips. “Tell me what happened yesterday.”

  I tugged the blankets up. “Mo didn’t tell you?”

  “Only in general, as I said.”

  I quickly updated him on everything and was caught by surprise by the deep sympathy in his expression. “I’m so sorry, Gwen. While I’ve always suspected Max, I’d also always hoped I was wrong. For your sake, and for Mo’s.”

  I swallowed heavily. “Thanks. I guess … I guess I just didn’t want to see what was blindingly obvious if I’d only sat down and thought about it.”

  “No one ever wants to believe those they’re closest to could betray them, but it happens time and again.” He paused and interlaced his fingers. I suspected he was resisting the desire to reach out and hold me. “How do you plan to deal with him?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” I ran my fingers through my tangled hair. “I daresay Mo has ideas, but right now, she’s with Barney taking pictures of the writing on the King’s Stone. They’re going to attempt to transcribe it.”

  “That inscription is just another piece of information lost to time and mismanagement,” he muttered. “It’s very frustrating.”

  It was. “Did Ricker find the translation scroll in the Glastonbury archives?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be meeting—”

  “We’ll be meeting.”

  “—him in London this afternoon. And I’ll have to clear your entry into our headquarters with the rest of my order before I take you anywhere near it.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I knew your lot were old-fashioned, but surely the men’s-only club thing went out with the dark ages?”

  A smile teased his lips. “Far from it—and there are plenty of them in London to prove it. But in our case, it’s not just women but anyone unrelated to the order—for safety reasons.”

  “That I can understand.” Especially at the moment. “But I’d really like to transcribe the list we found at the church after they blew it up, and to do that, I need to see the scroll.”

  “I take it you took photographs of the notes?”

  I nodded. “What time do you have to meet Ricker?”

  He glanced at his watch. “At five. It’s just gone ten now, so we’ve plenty of time to grab breakfast and get ready.”

  “Well, then, if you don’t want to be flashed—”

  “Just to be clear here, I can think of nothing I’d rather be doing than watching you parade around naked.” A wicked twinkle entered his eyes. “Well, maybe one or two things. I also have no doubt that I might yet end up regretting my bargain.”

  “Well, I’m quite willing to break it—but only if you jump into this bed right now and we have hot monkey sex for the next ten hours.”

  He laughed and pushed out of the chair. “As much as I love that idea, I think we’d better stick to the deal. Distractions can be deadly, especially when you think you’re safe.”

  I’d expected no other answer, but nevertheless felt a twinge of disappointment. “Then you’d best go ring your people and get my clearance. I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast.”

  He shoved his big feet into his boots and then headed out. I sighed and crawled to the end of the bed to grab my phone out of the pack.

  Mo answered on the second ring. “Well, I hope your evening was a whole lot simpler than mine.”

  Just for an instant, fear surged. Which was ridiculous, given she was on the other end of the phone and obviously quite okay. “With Gianna and Reign?”

  “No, the changeover went fine. Ron and Gianna connected instantly, which is a blessing. I suspected she might have been plotting escape routes up until then.”

  “It’s possible she still is.”

  “She’s not—Ron checked before they left. I did place a nebulous obedience spell on her, just to ensure she didn’t change her mind, though.”

  Which was probably a good idea, given what I’d seen of Gianna. “So what else happened?”

  “It seems either Darkside or your brother had the same idea we did. Thankfully, we got there sooner and were able to take some photographs before the bastards attacked.”

  “You and Barney obviously weren’t hurt.”

  “Barney got some ricochet shrapnel in his butt, but he’s fine after my tender ministrations overnight.”

  And not just healing ministrations, I suspected. At least someone in our little family unit was getting some. “Do you think they would have destroyed the King’s Stone if given the chance?”

  “Very likely, as I don’t think they’re aware the sword they have might not be the true king’s sword.”

  “Which is all the more reason for them to keep it, surely? Besides, it’s basically just a stone sheath—it holds no power in and of itself.”

  “If it held no power, any Tom, Dick, or Harriet with enough strength would have been able to pull the sword free. Magic held it in place.”

  “But not enough, given we De Montforts have had to protect the sword for centuries. I take it you’ve now protected the stone?”

  “I’ve reinforced the blessing. That should hold them off for the moment.”

  I grunted. “Would there be anything in the archives—in the diaries from our ancestors, perhaps—that mentions what the inscription says? It can’t have always been illegible.”

  “It’s possible, but let’s see if our photographs can be enhanced first. What are you and Luc up to today?”

  “His cousin is meeting us in London with the translating scroll. We’re going to use it to look at the paperwork found at both Karen Jacobs’s place and at the old church.”

  “And Karen Jacobs is …?” she said.
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  “The owner of the gray car that dropped Tris off right before he was shot. She’s dead.”

  “Seems to be a continuing theme with these bastards. I did think your brother was better than all this.”

  “He always had grand schemes for great riches.” My voice was tight with suppressed emotion. “And isn’t snaring the Witch King’s throne and restoring witch rule to all of England the grandest scheme of all?”

  “Not with the backing of Darkside. That boy has rocks in his head if he truly believes they’ll allow him to rule in their stead.”

  “Maybe he has a grand scheme for that, as well.”

  “The sword is not a source of unending power. It is a means to draw on and combine the power of all four elements, but its strength—its ability to combat and contain darkness—truly depends on the strength, the heart, and the soul of the person whose hand grips it. Uhtric’s soul wasn’t exactly pure, and that fault almost killed him.”

  “Is that why it took him so long to contain Darkside?”

  “Yes. He was only one man, and the strength of the witch lines was fading even then.”

  “Then heaven help us.”

  “As I’ve said before, modern day weaponry is far superior to anything Uhtric had in his time. Demons and dark elves are not immune to bullets.”

  No, but in the case of many demons, they were generally faster than any but the most highly trained soldier could pull the trigger.

  Besides, Max was well aware of modern-day weaponry. I had no doubt he’d been stockpiling guns and other shit for some time now. The fact he’d planned the whole heir thing six years ago was statement enough of just how long he’d been involved in all this.

  God, how could I have missed his slip into darkness?

  Was I so used to his offhand manner and get-rich schemes that I’d willfully ignored the signs when they became something more? Had I missed them all simply because I hadn’t wanted to believe my twin—the other half of me—could have fallen so far?

  All current evidence certainly suggested I had.

  I swallowed the bitter surge of self-anger and said, “What I don’t get is, the power of the Aquitaine line is fire. How exactly is the sword—which is supposedly nothing more than a conduit—able to combine and draw on the power of all four elements?”

  “Because it was created by gods, and gods like doing crazy shit like that.”

  I snorted. “I’ll bow to your experience when it comes to the foibles of gods.”

  “As you should.” Amusement echoed in her voice. “The sword is more than a conduit, though. It gives the user the means to step beyond flesh and into the unseen dimension—the gray space—in which all energies move and exist.”

  “Well, that makes total sense.”

  My voice was dry, and she laughed. “Think of it as the existing world but one step back. There are no people, there are no buildings, and there are no animals. There’s just the earth and the sky and the natural energy that lives within and without.”

  “And it’s this energy that the user can draw on?”

  “Yes. But there’s a price, as there always is when it comes to the gifts of the old gods.”

  “Uhtric survived.”

  “Cedric did not. He was vaporized by the powers that swept through him—although thankfully not before he’d contained the Darkside threat.”

  Cedric being the second Witch King. “If he was vaporized, then who placed the sword back in the stone?”

  “I presume it was the Blackbirds.”

  “That being the case, you’d think they’d damn well know if the sword in the King’s Stone was the real one.”

  “It was all a long time ago, remember. Things that were well-known then are little more than vague rumors on the wind now.”

  “Which is a very poetic way of saying they forgot.”

  She laughed again. “I’ve called a council of war for tonight—”

  Unease slid through me. “And just who is going to be involved in this council?”

  “All the usual suspects.”

  Meaning Ginny, Mia, and Barney. “Mo—”

  “Better they be at the safe house than running around Ainslyn at the moment.” Her tone said her mind would not be changed. “Your brother knows our weak points, remember. The last thing we need is for any of them to be used against us.”

  I hadn’t even thought of that possibility. I rubbed my eyes and wished I didn’t believe that Max would willingly—and deliberately—hurt my friends as a means of getting to me.

  “We’re not meeting Ricker until five, so we’re not likely to be back tonight.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll update everyone on what’s been happening, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Be careful, Mo.”

  “You too, darling girl.”

  I smiled and hung up. I had a quick shower to chase away the last vestiges of sleep, then got dressed in my freshly cleaned and pressed clothes, and headed downstairs.

  Henry met me in the foyer. “Breakfast, Ms. Gwen?”

  “That would be fabulous. Thank you.”

  He nodded and led the way to a small and decoratively restrained dining room. He must have seen my surprise, because he said, “This is the family’s preferred morning room. The main dining hall is far too large, and this does have glorious views over the garden.”

  And the distant sea, I discovered after a quick look.

  Once Henry had seated me, another man unfolded my napkin with a snap and then asked what I wished for breakfast. My vegetable and bacon omelet—along with a gold rack of toast, butter, and a selection of jams—promptly appeared a few minutes later.

  I was halfway through my third piece of toast when Luc finally appeared. “Did I get clearance?”

  “Not as yet.” He took a seat, ordered his breakfast, and then added, “It’ll take a few hours to get hold of everyone.”

  I frowned. “What happens if I don’t get clearance?”

  “Then we’ll take the scroll down to the café and work there.”

  “You have a café in your building? How is that safe?”

  “It gives us the perfect cover for coming and going, and it also provides a very good income, as the building is close to the theatre district and Drury Lane.”

  “Huh.” I picked up a triangle of toast, then used it to indicate the room. “Who actually owns this place?”

  “A friend.”

  “Male or female friend?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Meaning a woman owned it. “Only once we start dating, and only if she’s one of your casuals.”

  “She was once, but now we really are just good friends.”

  I nodded. “Is she old money?”

  “No. An investment banker who’s done very well for herself. Her main residence is in London—this is really just a weekend retreat.”

  It was one hell of a retreat. “Is your place like this?”

  “Meaning over-the-top opulent, I take it?” When I nodded, he raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like the type to you?”

  “Well, no, but it’s not like I actually know you that well. You could be a hidden cross-dresser for all I know.”

  He laughed. “One of my brothers actually is.”

  “I thought you had sisters?”

  “I do. Lots of them. I also have three brothers.” He grinned. “My parents didn’t believe in contraception—not until the ninth child, at which point my mother decided enough was enough.”

  “I hope you believe in contraception, because there’s no way I intend having nine children.”

  “I do, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Sex first, explore possible relationship second, then commitment and children if it all works out.”

  I pointed my remaining bit of toast at him. “You can be sure I’ll hold you to all that.”

  “I expect nothing less.” His smile grew. “My place is a simple country manor in the middle of Somerset. I do have staff to look after it because I�
��m often away and the place is open to the public in summer and spring. It could never be described as opulent. More … traditional.”

  “I look forward to seeing it.”

  “I look forward to showing you.”

  The heated glow in his eyes suggested what I’d mostly be seeing—at least for the first couple of weeks—was the inside of his bedroom. And I was perfectly okay with that.

  I ordered another pot of tea and drank it while he finished his breakfast. After returning upstairs to do my teeth and grab my pack, I met him in the foyer, and we headed out.

  It took ages to get to London, thanks not only to a couple of pit stops—one for a toilet break, and one to collect a very vital cup of tea for me and a coffee for him—but also the traffic around Regent’s Park.

  Once we were near Drury Lane, he swung into a parking lot, flashed the app on his phone at the reader, and then found a parking spot. I grabbed my pack and met him at the back of the car.

  “This way.” He motioned toward the exit then pressed his fingers lightly against my spine to guide me. Delighted tingles radiated from the epicenter of his touch and washed through the rest of me.

  We made our way down Drury Lane, turned into Tavistock, and then finally into Catherine Street. The Blackbirds’ headquarters was midway down; it was a four-story red-brick building with three arched, ornate windows on each of the top three floors. The ground floor windows were square, with the top portion being simple stained glass squares. There were a couple of small round tables sitting at the front—both of which were occupied—and it looked to be fairly full inside.

  He opened the door, then once again touched my spine and guided me through the maze of tables to the rear of the old but charming café. After going through another door and past the public bathrooms, we came to an elevator.

  “I take it this means I have clearance to enter hallowed grounds,” I said as he shoved a key into the lock and turned it sideways. The elevator began to descend with a loud—and worrying—clanking sound.

  “Yes. Sorry, the call came through at our bathroom stop.”

  The door opened, revealing an old-fashioned but grand cage elevator. I stepped in somewhat gingerly and resisted the urge to huddle close to Luc as he pressed the top floor button. I didn’t mind elevators when they had four solid walls, but these things had always given me the willies.