“Did you think we’d come just in pairs?” Snow-hair asked.
“You look like you’d need someone to hold your hand,” Blaéz drawled, keeping an eye on Finnén.
Snow-hair catapulted into the air, his sword winging just as Finnén flung his dagger straight behind Blaéz. Heart in his throat, he spun around and with his mind, he shoved Darci out of danger’s path. The dagger embedded into the wooden trellis where she’d been seconds before. White-hot pain lanced Blaéz’s shoulder.
Blaéz pivoted, flinging the sword he held, and nailed the snow-haired fucker in the stomach, and into the castle wall.
Weapon in hand, Finnén stalked toward Blaéz and sneered, “Just you and me,servant.”
Blaéz said nothing at the provocation, but he didn’t count on his mate. Darci darted in front of him and hurled her dagger with all the fury in her. The weapon plunged halfway into Finnén’s chest. “Don’t ever call him that!”
Shocked, Finnén gaped blankly at the blade.
Dumbstruck, Blaéz stared. “I didn’t know you could pitch a blade.”
“Me neither,” she said, a tremor in her voice. A smile formed on Blaéz’s lips, but he shut it off and pushed her safely behind him. “I have this, love.”
She had good aim, but he had to build up her strength so she could take out the fucker in one throw. He felt her shaky fingers hook into the back waist of his pants.
Growling, Finnén yanked out the obsidian blade and tossed it aside. He rushed at Blaéz.
“Enough!” The Morrigan took form in a swirl of navy cloak.
Great, a goddamn family reunion.
Blaéz pulled Darci to his side, his arm around her, keeping her close.
Finnén scowled at The Morrigan.
She didn’t look pleased as she strode toward them, her cape parting and revealing dark-green pants and bustier. A furious flurry of wings and hundreds of crows dropped from the skies to roost on nearby shrubs, appearing like soot had fallen on the greenery. They could all turn into deadly warriors at her command.
The invisible shield keeping the other Guardians out broke. In a blink, Týr, Dagan, and Aethan flanked him.
The law-keeper pinned to the castle wall twisted and struggled to pull the sword from his bleeding belly. The arsehole was lucky Blaéz hadn’t aimed that damn sword for his heart. Freeing himself, the law-keeper stumbled. Glowering with cold rage, he stalked toward Blaéz.
“I said enough.” The Morrigan’s voice carried a compulsion, stopping the assassin dead in his tracks. She pinned those lethal blues on the law-keeper. “My son is no longer bound by our laws. Leave him and his mate in peace.”
Blaéz stiffened. She’d called him “son” in front of everyone?
Too late, he wanted to tell her. Too much had happened for him to ever think of her as his mother. But shit, no matter that eons had passed, her words unfurled and spread, easing a little of that one fractured facet still inside him—one of acceptance—but only a little.
Darci stroked his chest, clearly picking up on his emotions.
“He is no family to us,” Finnén snapped. “He brought shame to our pantheon. And taking a mortal to mate? He should die.”
Guess that meant his twin finally knew who Blaéz was and still came after him. Blaéz eyed him coldly. He would kill Finnén in a heartbeat if he ever took one step Darci’s way. The Morrigan probably read his intent. Not that he was hiding what he’d do to her other son.
“I said enough, Finn. Now leave.”
Snarling at The Morrigan’s verdict, Finnén vanished.
The white-haired assassin’s mouth curled in irritation. His eyes narrowed as he lowered his sword, blood seeping from the slow-healing wound on his abdomen.
The Morrigan was the goddess of war and death, not many would want to take her on. Besides, she was part of the council at the Gates of the Gods that made those damn archaic angelic laws that were once applied to the Watchers absolute.
“Wait,” Blaéz said as they prepared to leave.
The Morrigan glanced back, her gaze softened a fraction. “What is it?”
