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

by Keri Arthur

I grinned. “I wasn’t talking about sexual plans, Blackbird.”

  “Weren’t you? That’s a shame.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “That suggests there might be a slight deviation in the course you’ve set yourself.”

  “No deviation. Not until after all this mess is sorted, at any rate.”

  “You do realize that if the gate is opened and the dark horde floods out, you and I could die in a very frustrated state?”

  He laughed and opened the car door for me. “If the gate does open and the horde does flood, I promise we’ll meet death with smiles on our faces and satisfaction in our hearts.”

  I snorted. “Except we both know that if the gate is opened, you’ll be standing alongside the other eleven Blackbirds attempting to hold back the tide.”

  “I doubt there’ll be any sort of warning to the gate being smashed open. It’ll just happen.”

  “To be honest, I’m surprised it already hasn’t.”

  He shrugged. “From the accounts I’ve read of the Witch King and the sword, it apparently takes a while for the connection to establish.” He pulled into the traffic and then glanced at me. “Much like what happened with your connection to Nex and Vita.”

  “Which makes sense, given they came out of the same forge.” I took a sip of my tea. “What did you think of the prophecy that was on the back of the throne?”

  “I thought the second line was oddly worded.”

  I nodded. “At first reading, you’d take it to mean the sword in the stone—the sword long believed to be the Witch King’s—”

  “Because it is,” Luc cut in. “There’s plenty of illuminated manuscripts and tapestries from his era that use that exact image.”

  “So why say one true sword? Why not simply say the sword of power?”

  “He did use other swords—he didn’t always take the sword of power into battle. Maybe that’s what the line is referring to.”

  “Maybe.” I took another sip of my tea. “I don’t suppose there’s a chance the prophecy is mentioned somewhere in the Blackbird archives?”

  “If it’s there, I’ll find it.” He glanced at me, a smile touching his lips. “A day or so of separation might not be a bad thing.”

  “Coward.”

  “But a realistic one.” His smile grew, and my hormones did a wicked little dance. “Even the fiercest resolve cannot forever withstand the constant assault of sensory and sexual ambrosia.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You’re equating me to a dessert?”

  “Ambrosia was first the food of the Greek and Roman gods, and it’s one I would willingly consume, given the right time and place.”

  My already erratic pulse rate greeted this news with even more abandon. I did my best to ignore the images that rose in my mind and said, in a voice that held only the slightest trace of huskiness, “Shame, then, that your unwillingness to risk that heart of yours means it will never happen.”

  He didn’t say anything to that. The silence stretched on, and I was perfectly fine with it. I just hoped his imagination was now offering the same sort of erotic images as mine and that he was consequently contemplating the wisdom of stating he would never have a long-term relationship.

  He probably wasn’t, but a girl had to hope. These were strange times, after all.

  It didn’t take us very long to get back to Ainslyn, thanks to the early hour and the fact daily commuters were generally heading out of the city, not in.

  Luc pulled to a halt in front of our building, but kept the motor running. “I’ll head over to Winchester and check the archives for any mention of the prophecy or other swords.”

  I frowned. “Winchester? I thought your headquarters was in London?”

  “It is, but Winchester is the ancient home of the Blackbirds.”

  “But why? Ainslyn is where the Witch King ruled, not Winchester.”

  “While it’s true that Uhtric spent a good portion of his time here, the other kings did not. There are multiple castles across the UK that can lay claim to being inhabited by one or more Witch King over the centuries.”

  “Huh.” I opened the car door. “You’ll call if you find anything?”

  He nodded. “Be careful, Gwen. Remember, Winter knows we took Riona, and he might hit this place hard and fast in an effort to get her back.”

  “There’s not much left of the place to hit.” It was lightly said, but unease nevertheless pulsed through me.

  I slammed the door shut, watched him drive away, and then headed in.

  “That you, Gwen?” Mo called out the minute I opened the door.

  “You already know it is, so why ask the question?”

  She tsked. “You’re a bit tetchy this morning—is that sexual frustration coming out? Is that why Luc roared away, rather than come in?”

  I locked the door, then headed up the dust-caked stairs. “He said he’s going over to Winchester to check the Blackbird archives for any mention of other swords, but basically, yeah, he’s running.”

  Mo chuckled, a sound filled with delight. “Keep chipping away at his defenses, my girl. He’ll be yours in no time.”

  “You keep saying that, and he keeps proving you wrong.”

  “No man—or woman, for that matter—can outrun fate for long.”

  “Tell him that.”

  Mo was on the sofa, her booted foot propped on the coffee table. Surprisingly, both it and the sofa were free of the rubble that still dominated the street side of the room, and the kitchen area practically shone. “You’ve been busy.”

  “I hired some professional cleaners. They’ll be back tomorrow.” She motioned toward the kettle. “And you timed your arrival perfectly—it just boiled.”

  I smiled and made a pot of tea. After adding a packet of chocolate digestives—Mo’s favorite, not mine—to the tray, I carried it over and placed it on the almost new-looking coffee table. “I don’t think I’ve ever noticed the grain on this table before.”

  “It is a lovely piece, but I’ve better things to do with my life than clean or polish wood furniture. Did the changeover go smoothly?”

  I nodded and poured the tea. “I think Riona is a very old soul. She certainly took the situation far better than even most adults would.”

  “Riona?”

  My gaze rose. “Yes.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Yes. But I don’t think we dare confront Max until we have confirmation that she—and her brother—are his.”

  “I agree.” She sipped her tea, her expression contemplative. “It is always possible they belong to a branch of the family I do not know about.”

  “Really? You expect me to believe that?”

  “A truly loving granddaughter would never question her grandmother’s word.”

  “She would if she was raised by you.” I sat beside her. “If they are confirmed as his, I guess the next question has to be, how deeply is he involved?”

  “Deep enough that Winter has access to his children.”

  “And yet he’s never come home stinking of demons.”

  “We both know there’s ways and means around that.” She pursed her lips. “Have the mother and brother been located yet?”

  I shook my head. “She told Riona she was taking Reign to the doctor’s, but it’s pretty obvious she’s on the run.”

  “And left her daughter behind as bait, thanks to her connection to Winter.”

  “Which was a pretty awful thing to do.”

  Mo screwed up her nose. “Yes, but I can understand her reasoning.”

  “I fucking don’t.” I took a deep breath and released it slowly. It didn’t really ease the anger. “Jason is calling in a psychic to help locate her.”

  “That may not help, given Darkside are undoubtedly watching their movements.” She reached for a biscuit and then dunked it into her tea. “Shame we haven’t got something of the mother’s to do a tracing spell with.”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the tissue-wrapped hair. “I do have a few stra
nds of Riona’s hair. I figured you’d use it to find her if Darkside grabbed her, but given they’re siblings, could you also use it to trace her brother?”

  “Yes.” She smiled and patted my knee. “You always were the brightest child.”

  I snorted softly. “Not what you said when I was failing grades.”

  “And understandably, given you always had the ability but never bothered applying it.” She finished her biscuit and reached for another. “Much like your magic, really.”

  “The magic you claim I never had.”

  “You tested as null—that’s very different.” She eyed me for a second, her gaze sharp and missing little. “What happened in that house?”

  “I called on Nex and Vita’s power even though they were in your possession, not mine.”

  “Which is why your eyes are bloodshot.”

  I nodded. “It felt like a storm swept through me, and it left me drained. That force wasn’t De Montfort, Mo.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  It was said in a matter-of-fact manner, and I narrowed my gaze. “You really do need to start giving me some answers.”

  She sighed. “Fine, although I will add that Vita did heal you, which indicates your De Montfort genes are not only present but viable.”

  “Except De Montforts have never been able to heal themselves.” I motioned toward her booted foot. “For example.”

  “Well, yes, but few De Montforts have ever been able to access Nex’s power in the way you have, and I suspect the same can be said of Vita.”

  Confusion stirred. “Doesn’t their power come from centuries of De Montforts using them as conductors?”

  “Yes, but that was not their initial intent. None of your more recent ancestors have accessed them in the way you have. Your mother certainly didn’t.”

  “But I have vague memories of her using them—was she simply channeling her own force through them?”

  Mo nodded. “Not even Rhedyn—who was the only other De Montfort to call lightning from the daggers—could access their full magic.”

  There was something in her voice this time that caught my attention. “Was she … your daughter?”

  Mo smiled. “No. She was my granddaughter.”

  Which meant she’d been alive well before Uhtric’s time. I reached for another biscuit to help me cope with that gobsmacking revelation. “So you were already ancient when the main dark gate was breached?”

  She whacked me on the arm. “In near immortality terms, I was barely out of my teenage years.”

  “So this would be your middle age?”

  “It’s perhaps a little more than that.”

  “So why didn’t you know what was written on the back of the throne? Or even what’s written on the King’s Stone?”

  “Because I left Ainslyn once Darkside had been re-caged.”

  “Why?”

  She grimaced. “Uhtric and I … we didn’t exactly get along. He was an excellent warrior and a good leader, but as a man? He left a lot to be desired.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Did you and he ever …?”

  “Good god, no! I think I have better taste in men than that.” She took a sip of tea. “He was not only arrogant, but unfaithful to his wife—two traits I can’t abide, even if it was quite common back then.”

  “How long were you away from Ainslyn?”

  “Long enough to lose contact with my descendants here. I came into your father’s life when he was barely two.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “Gregory—his father—died in a bus rollover. I stepped in to help Fiona raise the two boys. Sadly, she passed just before you and Max were born.”

  I topped up our teas and then said, “So why was Rhedyn given Nex and Vita in the first place? And what, exactly, was their original purpose?”

  Mo pursed her lips. “Rhedyn was the Queen’s Defender—”

  “She was a Blackbird?”

  “No. Blackbirds were the king’s knights and protectors of the crown. They were—and are—always men, so it was impossible for them to guard the queen in all situations.” A faint smile touched her lips. “The queen’s guard came into existence after Gwenhwyfar’s fall from grace.”

  Gwenhwyfar had been the first Witch King’s wife. She’d apparently fallen madly in love with the Blackbird sent to escort her back to the court for the wedding and had paid a high price for it. She’d been forced to uphold the marriage contract and bear the king an heir and had eventually decided it was better to kill herself than remain with a man she did not love.

  The Blackbird had things a whole lot easier, as he’d only been banished. He’d apparently gone to the Lady of the Lake seeking help, but the fact he’d left the kingdom without the woman he loved incensed Vivienne. She decreed their souls would be reborn down through the ages but would never find happiness until he held true to his heart rather than his duty and allegiance to king and crown.

  Mo believed Luc and I were this generation’s rebirth, and I wasn’t about to argue—not only because of the instant and undeniable attraction that existed between us, but also because I’d been able to see into his memories with just a touch. I wasn’t telepathic in any way, shape or form; the ability had apparently come from the fact that, with each rebirth, the bond between us strengthened; eventually, we would be one in heart, mind, and soul.

  Of course, I’d only gotten a glimpse into his thoughts and memories that one time, so whether that meant our link still had development potential, I couldn’t say. And I certainly wasn’t sure I wanted to catch his thoughts on a more regular basis—especially if it confirmed his mind really was set on living an ‘unencumbered’ life, as he so charmingly put it.

  “Were the queen’s guard all De Montforts?”

  Mo nodded. “We were warriors as much as healers back then, remember.”

  “So why was Rhedyn given Nex and Vita over any other De Montfort? Especially if she couldn’t access their full power?”

  “Rhedyn was the most powerful of the guard and head of the order. It was fitting the daggers were given to her.”

  “I don’t suppose your relationship with Vivienne had anything to do with it?”

  Mo laughed. “You don’t have a relationship with the old gods—you’re on speaking terms with them at best.”

  “Which you are.”

  “Only because our paths have crossed quite a few times over the centuries.”

  “Then why would Vivienne gift our line with daggers imbued with a power none can access?”

  “The old gods never explain their reasons, although she did say that one day, the daggers and sword will be reunited.”

  “The only way that would ever happen is if De Montfort men could use Nex and Vita—and they can’t.” Max certainly tried often enough. I reached for another biscuit and dunked it in my tea, taking a quick bite before it got too soggy. “And De Montfort women can’t use the sword.”

  “Remember what the prophecy on the back of the throne said, Gwen.”

  “A hand will draw the one true sword—”

  “Hand is gender neutral.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I couldn’t help the incredulousness in my voice. “Because it’s insane. And impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible. Not when it comes to fate and the old gods.”

  “But Max—”

  “Is not the true heir,” she cut in softly. “I think you are.”

  Chapter Seven

  I laughed—a sharp sound filled with disbelief. “Women can’t raise the king’s sword—plenty have tried over the years and none have succeeded.”

  “I wouldn’t call two plenty, and they failed for very simple reasons; one, the sword is not part of Aquitaine rule, even if only one of their line can use it. It also can’t be drawn in times of peace. And two, at the time, their link to the Aquitaine line was weaker than that of their male counterparts.”

  “The De Montfort claim on that heritage isn’t exactly sol
id, either, Mo.”

  “I think it’s safe to say that—given recent events—there is a direct link back to a Witch King somewhere in our bloodline. If it wasn’t Uhtric, then it was one of his predecessors.”

  “If it was one of his predecessors, wouldn’t you be aware of it? You were around well before Uhtric.”

  “Well, yes, but it wasn’t like I was keeping tabs on the sexual shenanigans of all my kin.” She paused. “It is possible Mryddin might know if there’s a link between the De Montforts and the Aquitaines—he did have a habit of interfering in the bloodlines of kings when necessary.”

  “So why aren’t we breaking the old bastard out of his self-imposed exile? He really does sound like the only one who can give us some answers.”

  “In this particular case, I don’t think we need his help.” She placed her teacup on the table and then gripped my free hand. “Think, Gwen. If the twins are Max’s, why would he seek out an Aquitaine to bear them when he’s never expressed any desire to be a father?”

  “To fortify a possible claim on the sword—”

  “Or to fortify his succession intentions.”

  “And it doesn’t matter either way, because someone else has claimed the sword.”

  “Do you still honestly believe that?”

  I tugged my hand from hers, then pushed upright and headed over to the cupboard that held the whiskey. It might be early, but I needed a drink. “Right now, I’m not sure what to damn well believe.”

  Other than the fact that he’d obviously been planning all this for a very long time. And now there was an undeniable connection to Winter via these children … if they were his children. Until the DNA results came through, I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Had to.

  I gulped down some whiskey, then glanced at Mo and wiggled the bottle. She shook her head and picked up her tea.

  “Did you question him when he was here yesterday?” I asked.

  “No—he arrived the same time as the assessor. Besides, I didn’t want him to go to ground.”

  “You could have stopped him going anywhere with a quick spell.”

  “Even I can’t cast a spell fast enough to have stopped him attaining blackbird form and flying away, Gwen.”