“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 to restore the Table.”
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 Níthöggur 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.
