Or her.
While she might not possess Arador's Stone of Taranis that could enchant any blade it touched and coat it with a poison so lethal it would bring instant death to anyone it scratched, she was no less dangerous. Indeed, she'd laid many men and women in their graves with a single kiss.
And a knife to their gullets.
Giving him a bow that galled her to the core of her being, she offered him a cold smile. "I didn't realize you'd returned ... Majesty."
"Careful. That lack of vigilance here could cost you. Your beauty. Your position." He paused and raked a cool smirk over her body. "Your life."
She narrowed her gaze on him as that threat made her seethe. Yet she refused to let him know it. Instead, she smiled as if his words didn't bother her in the least. Because while they angered her, she didn't see him as a threat. No more than one would a buzzing gnat. "So what brings our king to our counsel?"
"Morgen summoned me."
"Ah."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Unlike her, he didn't have the wisdom to keep the anger from his tone.
She bit back a true smile. What it meant was that he was nowhere near the man Kerrigan had been. That rank bastard had never come at Morgen's behest. Rather, he'd driven her niece to distraction with his endless defiance. And it was one of the reasons why Kerrigan had lasted longer than any other in his reign here.
But Narishka had no interest in helping Arador hold on to his power. Not when it was in her best interest to dethrone Arador before he learned any more of his merlin's skills and grew strong enough to strike out at them. "'Tis naught. You'll find her in her bedchamber with Apollo."
A strange light came into his eyes before he swept past her.
"Arador?"
He paused to glance at her.
"To answer your question ... yes, Apollo would love a threesome, and Morgen wouldn't mind it either."
His face went stark white. "How did you know what I was thinking?"
"You have your skills. I have mine." And he should never underestimate hers. "Now, run along. Morgen doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Turning, he headed off.
The moment he was out of sight, she grabbed the Adoni knight behind her and snatched him closer so that she could whisper in his ear. "Fetch me Maddor. I don't care what whore you have to pry him off, bring him to me within the quarter hour or it's your balls I'll be dining on!" She shoved him away from her. "I'll be awaiting him in the study."
With those words spoken, she went to gather her own agents to plan her strategy for this next round.
The Adoni turned on his companions with a hiss. "You heard her! Fetch the mandrake!"
"Fuck you." Varian duFey slid his knife straight into the lung of the bastard in front of him and held him upright until he stopped struggling. Only then did he use his powers to remove all traces of the fey's existence.
"Damn, V. That's so cold."
Wiping the blood off on the sleeve of his jerkin, he sneered at his hellhound companion. "Oh, like you wouldn't have bitten his throat out, then licked your own balls."
"Probably the former, but never the latter. Too many others willing to do that for me." Kaziel grinned at him. "At any rate, killing an Adoni on an errand for your mother seems a bit reckless when we're supposed to be keeping a low profile. And to think, Aeron and Nick accuse me of being rash."
"You are rash, my friend. So rash, it's actually creeping down your neck."
"Those are the hives I get from being this close to you when you're doing something profoundly stupid." Kaziel glanced down the hallway to make sure no one else was around. "Damn shame to be this near to your mother and she didn't recognize you."
"You've no idea. But I wouldn't put anything past her. The main thing for now is that we find Blaise and let him and Emrys know what's going on. You take Beau and find them."
Kaziel hesitated. "What about you?"
"We still need more information for our Merlin. I'm after Maddor to see why my mother was so insistent on him. That's not like her. Which means there's something peculiar there, and I intend to find out what."
Kaziel inclined his head to him. As he started away, Varian grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a dark alcove.
They'd barely vanished into the curtained shadows before Morgen's two newest paramours came down the hallway, grumbling.
"I wish Brevalaer was still here. No one else can handle her when she's in this foul a mood. How did he manage it for so long?"
"Brevalaer? How did Kerrigan? I swear I can barely walk."
They paused right in front of their hiding spot so that they could examine each other. "You don't think we're infected, do you?"
The dark-haired Adoni bit his lip. "I hope not. They're feeding the infected to the gallu."
Cursing, they went on their way.
Varian didn't move for several heartbeats as he digested that news. "Morgen's working with the gallu? Why?"
"No idea. But I'm sure nothing good can come of it."
Something cold brushed against Varian. Quicker than he could think, he drew his dagger and lunged.
The shadow beside him solidified into a man who quickly disarmed him, and tsked. "Careful, coz. I require dinner before someone daggers me."
He rolled his eyes at the shadowborn demon. Just above average height and well built, Shadow had eyes of steel. And like his very soul, his shoulder-length hair that he wore pulled back into a short ponytail was neither light nor dark, but strands of varying shades that were trapped squarely between his two dueling natures. The man was fearless as a rule, hence his personal motto that he feared no evil, for he was the most evil thing that stalked the darkness and called the deadliest night home. "Careful, demon. You tread on treacherous ground to be sneaking up on me."
"Sorry about that, but your Merlin sent me to you with news. Emrys and Nimue have fallen."
Varian gasped at the last thing he'd expected to hear. "What do you mean?"
"Apollo bid his demons assault them. He's closing the noose around the dragons, trying to get to the dragonstone first. Meanwhile, you have to get the tablet from Morgen before she finds Falcyn's stone and resurrects Mordred. Otherwise, all is lost."
"That's what I was trying to do when you rudely barged in."
Shadow growled at him. "And saved your life. Let's not forget the good part."
"Are you done harassing me?"
"Not even close." He flashed a cocky grin at Varian. "She also wants you to hand over a portal key."
Varian laughed. Until he realized it wasn't a joke. "Is Merlin crazy?" Without a key, he'd be trapped here.
"Probably. She has been inhaling fumes again in her library. However, without Emrys around, the dragon and crew are stuck in the Valley and they have no way to walk through the portals, back to their world. She wants me to escort them through and make sure they're safe."
"Can't you get them through on your own?"
He shook his head. "Shadowalkers can only pass through alone. Without a key, they'd be trapped and forced to wave at me on the other side."
"Well, that sucks."
"More than you know." Shadow held his hand out. "Give it up."
Grumbling, Varian pulled the dragon key from around his neck and handed it over. "How am I supposed to get back?"
After pocketing the key, Shadow clapped him on the arm. "Sure you'll think of something. I hear that you're good in a crisis."
"You're such a bastard."
"'Course I am. Suckled on the tit of all evil itself."
There was never any shaming the rank demon. He thrived on insults for some unknown reason.
Disgruntled and annoyed, Varian sighed. "And here I thought you were some master thief who could steal a key from anyone you wanted."
"I can. Unfortunately, they tend to miss such an item quickly and form a search party for it. Last thing we need is them finding our comrades before us. If Falcyn's stone falls into Morgen's hands ... it'd be as bad as her finding a way
There was that.
And Varian's stomach tightened at the thought. Shadow was right and he knew it. Arthur's Round Table was just one of several divine objects that had been hidden in the mortal realm and protected by a cadre of guardians who'd sworn a blood oath to keep them out of the hands of evil. To give their lives before they allowed their sacred objects to be used for destructive means.
While they'd won Kerrigan back from Morgen's Circle, Arador and his charge still remained in her hands. The last thing they could afford was to see any more of Arthur's mortal or fey objects taken by her members.
Which also made him think of something else. "Question?"
"Not an oracle, but you're free to attempt it."
"How is it the sharoc can't detect you?" Morgen's cruel allies and spies, the sharoc were shadow fey who thrived at Camelot. Varian had a hard enough time eluding their detection whenever he ventured here on his missions. He'd never understood how Shadow managed it.
"You want secrets I'm unwilling to give." He passed a gimlet stare to Kaziel, who was being unusually quiet. "The two of you aren't the only ones with pasts you don't want disclosed." And with that, he vanished.
Kaziel crossed his arms over his chest. "You trust him?"
"I don't trust anyone, other than my wife and children, but he's never given me a specific reason not to. Why?"
"Just thinking of something Aeron always says. I'd sooner trust my enemy than a friend, as I can afford to lose an enemy. But killing a friend over betrayal burns twice as deep and thrice as long."
"Your point?"
"No point, really. Just something about that demon makes my hackles rise."
Varian couldn't agree more. "Don't worry. Like you, my bite is much worse than my bark." And he'd taken enough lives to prove it. If Shadow betrayed them, Varian would have no compunctions about laying open his throat.
Still, there was an evil presence here, and for once it wasn't his mother or Morgen.
No, this was something far more insidious. Like a blackness trying to devour the world. Like Nithoggur gnawing at the roots of Yggdrasill as he sought to free himself from his prison.
For now it was contained, but his gut said it wouldn't stay that way.
Kaziel scowled at him. "What's wrong?"
"Just a bad premonition."
"Of?"
"What the world would be like if we fail to stop Morgen and Apollo."
*
Morgen watched as Apollo left her bed to dress. Exceptionally tall and golden fair from the top of his blond head all the way to his toes, he was exactly what one would expect of a god.
In and out of bed.
She pouted at him. "Why are you leaving?"
"It's taking too long to round up the dragon. I don't like this delay."
She scoffed at his worried tone. "My men will handle it. They know better than to fail me."
He rinsed his mouth out and spat before he turned toward her, patting his chin dry. "And I know my son. He was ever resourceful. Not to mention that bitch he serves. Apollymi hates me with a passion. As do her two sons."
That news shocked her. "Two sons? I thought her one and only son was dead."
"I wish." He let out a bitter laugh. "Nay, my evil fairie queen. Not dead. Acheron is hers by birth and conception. Brought back to life by my idiot of a twin sister who wanted to fuck him, and instead screwed the rest of us by her insatiable appetite for an ex-human whore. As for Styxx, he belongs to Apollymi by adoption. To that end, you can count my son as well. Indeed, she oft mothers Stryker more than she does her own."
"Really..." Morgen's mind whirled with this newfound information. "Any other brats I need know about?"
He dropped the towel and reached for his pants to pull them on. "You could almost count the Malachai. He is a direct descendent of her firstborn. Granted, a thousand times removed."
Four sons for Apollymi ...
Morgen rose up to lean against Arador, who slumbered in her bed. Worthless prick had no stamina. "Does she consider the current Malachai as one of hers?"
"Not as far as I know. Her loyalty to that end seems to have died with her original son, Monakribos."
"And what of his father? Was Kissare not supposed to be reborn so that he could return to her?"
Apollo froze in the middle of buttoning his shirt. He blinked slowly before he answered. "He was, indeed." A slow, evil grin spread across his face. "Why, Morgen, dearest evil bitchtress, I do believe you've found something."
"So he was reborn?"
Laughing, Apollo crossed the floor to her bed and pulled her naked body against his. "I don't know. But I know who will."
The Fates.
He didn't say it, but Morgen knew the answer as well as he did. Those three whores knew everything about everyone.
"And if he does live," Apollo whispered against her lips, "we will find him and gut him at her feet!"
"I don't follow. Wouldn't that be a bit anticlimatic? What's the point?"
He kissed her lips. "The point is that the goddess of all destruction and darkness has only had three weaknesses in the whole of her life. Kissare, Monakribos, and Acheron." He nipped at her lips. "Given how frigid a bitch she is, I'm willing to bet that they had more in common than just their mother."
Morgen's eyes widened as she finally understood. "You're thinking that Acheron's father is Kissare reincarnated?"
He actually drew blood from her bottom lip with his fangs as he pulled back and nodded. "It would explain so much.... Archon swore he would never father a child with her and he went to his nebulous state claiming Acheron wasn't his son. Had Apollymi truly loved him, she would never have ended him as she did. God knows, she suffered much to protect Kissare and their offspring."
"Then who's Acheron's real father?"
"Only Apollymi knows."
Morgen smiled at this newfound knowledge and what it signified. "And the Fates."
"If they don't, they will learn it." He gave her one last kiss, then stepped away.
She frowned at his actions. "Where are you off to?"
"To find Kessar. I have another errand for him."
12
"Shake that moneymaker, baby! You go! Make that barrier pay! Kick it! Show us more biceps! Spank it till it bleeds! C'mon, you can do it. Pound it harder! Put some muscle into it."
Aghast and irritated, Falcyn turned around to glare at Medea as she sat on the ground beside Brogan and catcalled to them while he, Urian, Blaise, and Brandor sought some way to break through the barrier. Hands on hips, he narrowed his gaze at her. "Not helpful."
Medea put her hand up to her lips before she leaned closer to Brogan to whisper rather loudly. "Neither are their attempts, but notice it doesn't stop them from trying."
Brogan laughed.
Falcyn arched a brow at their misplaced humor. And it was then he was struck by just how different the two women were. Not only because one was blond and the other a brunette. Medea was dressed in black leather, tight T-shirt and jeans, and heeled boots with an innate I'll-cut-you-for-irritating-me aura that bled from every fiber of her being. Meanwhile, Brogan was much softer with her multi green and brown shimmery gauze that floated over her brown leather. Even though she was a powerful kerling with the abilities of a Deathseer, there was an air about her of serene gentleness.
How sick of him that he preferred Medea's rough fire and spirit to Brogran's much more subdued and quiet nature.
Yeah, he felt nothing for the kerling, but one look at Medea was enough to make him hard and aching for another taste of her lush, full curves.
Even while she insulted him in front of everyone.
"Instead of heckling, woman, you could try helping."
She flashed a grin to expose a hint of fang that for some insane reason he found adorable. "I am helping. I'm giving you encouragement, dragonfly."
His jaw out of joint, he turned toward Urian. "Would you consider this encouraging?"
"Coming from my sister? Yeah. She's not throwing things at you or directly insulting us and our parentage. Hell of an improvement, if you ask me. Makes me wonder what you've done to her that she actually located some semblance of humor and good nature."
Medea shot a blast at Urian, who deftly dodged it and laughed before returning it with one of his own.
"Hey!" Falcyn snapped, shoving Urian aside. "Play nice! You hurt your sister and I'll fry your ass. Ash or no Ash."
Medea righted herself from where she'd dived to miss Urian's blast. "You tell him, sweet cheeks."
Urian scowled. "Is she drunk?" He glanced back at Blaise and Brandor. "What did you throw on her again?"
"Water." Brandor wiped at his brow.
Medea scoffed. "I'm fine. We're just enjoying the sight of male stubbornness at its prime best, and wondering at what point the lot of you will cede defeat to the Penmerlin's shield." She glanced over to Brogan. "How long have they been pounding this poor defenseless shell now?"
"At least an hour." Brogan wrinkled her nose.
Blaise shot a sudden blast at it that ricocheted and hit Brandor squarely in the chest. The blast knocked him back fifteen feet and sent him head over heels until he landed on his side, in a smoking heap.
Medea burst out laughing again.
With a groan, he pushed himself into a seated position to glare at Blaise. "Really, mandrake? Really?"
Squeaking in fear for her brother, Brogan scrambled to her feet to check on Brandor and to make sure he didn't attack Blaise out of anger over his indignity.
Medea opened her mouth and rubbed her thumb against her fang. "You know, Falcyn, I think that puts the wall over for bonus points on all your sorry hides."
"At least we're doing something. You could try your hand at it, you know?"
"Why? It's obviously not budging. If sheer force of will could open it, I'd give it to you and it would have surrendered ten hours ago."
"One hour ago."
"Tomato. Tahmahto." Leaning on her side, she propped her head on her hand and rested her other arm in the hollow of her narrow waist. "I should go ahead and take a nap while the lot of you waste your time."
He wasn't sure if it was the words or her new position, but right then a nap was the last thing he could think about.
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