Decades ago, we’d entertained a passing entanglement. It could not even be termed a relationship. There’d been no affection, only fucking. Mutual release followed by retreats to our separate quarters. And from it, a child had been born.
But Mordred was not my concern in that moment.
It was my mate and the mess we would be in when she killed Morgause and left the Dyad one short.
Veyka had learned self-restraint as a means for survival. But she had a wicked temper, and a quickly mounting list of reasons to want the other female dead. Morgause thought she was flexing her power. Stupid, foolish female.
“We have heard that only the most formidable warriors are granted seats at your Round Table. What better way to test them than to battle them yourself?” As she spoke, Morgause stroked a vial that hung at her waist. She had not been wearing it before, when she’d escorted us up to the Cloud Tower. But the finger-sized vial could only hold one thing—what Morgause was known for. Poison.
My stomach lurched, the meal we’d eaten suddenly heavy. She would not be stupid enough to poison us outright like that, when the act could so easily be linked to her. But there was nothing innocent in the way she stroked that vial nor her proposal that Veyka or I enter the Pit.
“You have heard incorrectly. More than one Knight of the Round Table are not warriors at all,” Veyka said with feigned disinterest. After months of knowing and watching her, I could note how her eyes slid casually over the candidates, covertly assessing them.
“I have never seen a harpy myself. But I hear they are quite lethal.” Morgause stroked Orcadion’s arm. “Would you like to match yourself against one, husband?”
Veyka’s pupils dilated just slightly at Orcadion’s willing grunt.
Someone in Eilean Gayl had been reporting to Morgause.
We’d anticipated as much, but it still rankled to have it confirmed.
“Will you be competing for the Knighthood?” Veyka said with saccharine sweetness. Her smile matched her tone, but her storm-cloud eyes made a different kind of promise. She hoped that Morgause would enter just so she’d have an excuse to kill her.
My cock hardened instantly.
The option to ignore all of this and drag Veyka into my lap sounded infinitely better than political posturing.
Morgause matched Veyka’s smile. “Alas, I have surrendered that honor to my son.”
The crowd lining the Pit shifted to accommodate the arrival of one more. Mordred stepped up to the edge, the warmth of his light brown skin heightened by the gray leather armor he wore. Just like in the Cloud Tower, his expression was stoic, focused.He held a hatchet in one hand. Vines curled around the other. That answered one lingering question, at least. Not a shifter.
Over Veyka’s corner, Lyrena laughed, making an easy mockery of the entire spectacle. “And how is that supposed to work? Battle the King or Queen to the death for a chance to serve as a Knight for the King and Queen? Terrestrials aren’t known for their cleverness, but I’d thought you’d at least understand how to follow your own rules.”
Veyka’s golden knight was brilliant. A few brash sentences, and she’d made Morgause look a fool while also clarifying the terms of the competition.
Morgause’s smile melted into a sneer. “The final round will be to first blood.”
I felt Veyka’s pulse of appreciation, matched it with one of my own. Lyrena deserved a new gold tooth or two. In one supremely elemental twisting of words, she’d also managed to remove the possibility of fatal harm to either Veyka or myself. Not that any of the terrestrials stood a chance against me or my queen.
But talking was getting tedious. If we let Morgause keep going, she’d conjure up some other complication. I stood from my chair, drawing the axe from my belt and shrugging off the heavy cloak I’d worn while we traveled.
“Let’s get on with this.”
Veyka lifted one impertinent white eyebrow. Something else white flashed behind her, but it must have been a lock of her hair shifting.
“So eager for bloodshed, Brutal Prince?” Veyka purred. “Maybe I’d like a try.”
“You’ve already done your share for the day,” I countered. “It’s my turn.”
Veyka’s smile grew, her eyes sliding past me to the terrestrial challengers. Pity shone in those clever blue orbs. But they widened, suddenly.
Her head jerked to the side, where curved white claws closed around her shoulder.
“Majesty,” Isolde hissed. “You must not fight.”
There was no privacy in the middle of a thousand terrestrials. Nowhere we could go to have an unheard conversation—except down.
Veyka jumped into the Pit without hesitation. I helped Isolde down one level, expecting to see my mate waiting. Nope—Veyka had already descended two more levels, into the very heart of darkness.
