“Believe me, I have no delusions on that score.” She remembered her last sight of her parents, clinging to each other in despair and grief. “Just being of royal blood has cost me enough as it is.” Before she could say more, her instincts began to clamor.
Power was coming. Not simply the sense of magic that surrounded the Majae, but something far more profound. Every hair on the back of her neck rose as it approached, and her heart began to pound.
The door opened, and Llyr Galatyn swept in, followed by a beautiful blonde and a cool, dark woman who was equally lovely. Nineva recognized them as the women she’d seen meeting with Arthur the day before. At their heels strode a heavily armored Sidhe bodyguard with wary eyes.
Nineva rose and dipped into the curtsy her father had taught her so many years before. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur and Kel exchange bows with Llyr.
“Rise, child,” Llyr said in that deep, beautiful voice.
She lifted her head and met those eyes, so painfully familiar. He was dressed in black and silver, the stark colors making his beauty all the more striking. The power that surrounded him left her feeling breathless.
Like her, he was an avatar, if the avatar of an entirely different god. Yet unlike Semira, Cachamwri was no captive, but a being in his full power.
This was what Nineva could be, if she succeeded in freeing her goddess.
Staring at him hungrily, Nineva was scarcely aware when Arthur introduced the women who had escorted Llyr in—Arthur’s wife, Guinevere, and his half-sister, Morgana Le Fay. Under normal circumstances, Nineva would have been fascinated by them, but with Llyr in the room, it was difficult to care about anything else.
“I’m told,” Llyr said, “that you should have a Mark.”
She reached up and tugged the deep V of her bodice aside, revealing the golden swirl of Semira’s bloodline. It had begun to glow, as if reacting to the Sidhe king’s presence.
Llyr started to reach toward her, then arrested the gesture. “May I?”
As her mouth went dry, she bowed her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The tips of his fingers touched the Mark. She felt the sizzle of his power. Over his shoulder, she met the cold, suspicious gaze of Llyr’s bodyguard.
Finally, Llyr stepped back and nodded shortly. “Yes, you’re the Avatar of Semira.” His gaze met hers. “But your goddess seems very weak.”
“She’s been imprisoned a long time. And I’m the first Avatar born in centuries. I’ve got to strengthen her before I can track down the sword and free her from it.”
Llyr lifted a golden brow. “How do you intend to strengthen her?”
To her mortification, she felt her cheeks heat. With an effort, she kept her eyes from sliding toward Kel.
“Ah.” Llyr’s tone was knowing, and a half-smile quirked his lips. After a pause, he said, “My court historian tells me Semira was considered a fertility goddess.”
She cleared her throat. “It…seems so.”
“He’s also researched your claim. According to his count, you would indeed be the twenty-first Avatar. Which, if the prophecy is correct, would make you the one who will free Semira from the sword and save us from the Dark Ones.”
“That’s…what I’ve always been taught.” The knot of tension loosened in her belly. At least he believed her.
Arthur invited them all to sit, then offered refreshments. Everyone declined politely.
As the first shock of Llyr’s familiar features began to fade, Nineva became aware of the cool appraisal in the king’s eyes.
He might believe her, but he didn’t trust her. Her stomach started coiling into knots again. Despite his resemblance to her father, he wasn’t a friend. He could easily decide to move against her. And what the hell would she do then?
Beneath the table, a big, warm hand wrapped around hers, fisted in her lap with anxiety. She looked up to meet Kel’s reassuring gaze.
“So,” Llyr said, “tell me what you know of this Dark Ones invasion.”
Diana London Galatyn sat surrounded by mounds of fragrant flowers in the conservatory—along with five armed and armored guards.
Llyr’s paranoid streak was beginning to get on her nerves. He was down the corridor somewhere, meeting with Arthur and the supposed Avatar of Semira. Usually, Diana would be by his side, but he evidently considered this girl such a threat, he didn’t want Diana anywhere near her.
It was ridiculous. After all, Diana was a werewolf; any magical attack would simply bounce off. Of course, the fact that she couldn’t transform made defending herself a little more complicated. Still, the bodyguards were overkill.
Yet they were also an understandable precaution, considering Llyr’s tragic history. Diana was prepared to tolerate them if they made him feel better.
Forcing herself to ignore them, she concentrated on the rows of figures on the laptop computer she’d had Llyr acquire for her. Since she didn’t have a lap at the moment, one of her guards had conjured a small writing desk.
When she and Llyr had taken over the Morven Sidhe kingdom, they’d discovered its coffers were far richer than was strictly necessary. Ansgar had been methodically beggaring his people to enrich himself and his favorites.
Diana had promptly suggested a massive tax rebate for part of the money, but she and Llyr were also considering various public projects for the rest. For one thing, the Morven Kingdom was in desperate need of an educational system for the young, since Ansgar had abolished it centuries ago to save money.
Then there was the crown legal system, which was riddled with corruption from top to bottom. Reforming that was going to be a pain in the ass.
The first step to doing any of that, though, was to figure out exactly how much money was really needed to run the Morven Kingdom. Luckily, Diana was no stranger to budgeting, thanks to her years as a small-town administrator. The kingdom was far larger than anything she’d dealt with before, of course, but the basic principles were the same.
She absently looked up from the laptop as she mulled over the figures. Her gaze fell on the captain of the bodyguard, a tall, powerfully built man who was generally laid back and cheerful. He was moving around the room, speaking to each of the other guards, his expression uncharacteristically intense and focused. Diana frowned. Was something going on?
Maybe she’d better wander over and find out.
Varza glanced around as the werewolf heaved her massively pregnant body off the bench and headed in her direction. Suppressing a curse, Varza diverted away from the guard she’d been preparing to bespell. The last thing she needed was to arouse the bitch’s suspicions.
She swept a low bow and pasted a smile on her face. “Queen Diana, how may I serve you?”
“What’s going on?” the werewolf asked, in that blunt human way she had. “I noticed you seem to be working your way around to all the men.”
“I am but ensuring they have their orders.”
“Uh huh.” Her silver eyes were entirely too acute. “What orders are those, exactly?”
Nosy bitch. She pumped more charm into Gamal’s smile. “His Majesty wishes us to remain alert for any threat.”
“Duh.”
Varza blinked, not understanding the phrase. “What?”
“That’s your job, Captain. I’d think that would go without saying.”
“Perhaps, but I wanted to impress it more firmly.”
She snorted. “Somehow I doubt that’s all there is to it, but knowing my husband, he’s ordered you not to elaborate. That being the case, I’ll let you go back to whatever you’re doing.” To Varza’s relief, she turned and glided off with surprising grace, considering her hugely pregnant belly.
Varza watched as she sat down and went back to her work on her mortal gadget, whatever it was. Once she was sure the werewolf was fully occupied again, she moved toward the fourth and final guard.
The man stood looking wary and alert in his malachite armor, his hand riding the hilt of his sword. Gamal’s stolen memor
ies said his name was Krinus, a Sidhe of considerable natural power, intelligence, and loyalty to the crown.
Which was why Varza had saved him for last. Taking him would be risky, calling for the expenditure of more power than the others had required. Had Varza attempted him any earlier, one of them might have sensed it and sounded the alarm. Surrounded as they were by Magekind, that could have been disastrous. Varza had no interest in battling a small army of infuriated vampires and witches—not to mention Llyr Galatyn himself, Avatar of the Dragon.
She walked up to the warrior, who was too well-trained to take his his gaze from the werewolf.
Varza grasped his shoulder as if to draw him close for a private word. The spell sliced through the man’s armor as if it wasn’t there. Krinus’s eyes widened in shock as every muscle froze.
But though his body was paralyzed, his mind was powerful. Even as Varza sent the second spell driving into the Sidhe’s consciousness, Krinus shielded and fought back, blasting a wave of fire into his attacker’s mind. Varza gritted her teeth, shielded, and poured still more magic into the spell. For a moment, Krinus’s defenses held stubbornly solid, but abruptly they failed.
Far sooner than they should have.
Even as Varza’s magic blasted through, she sensed the man’s power explode outward—a psychic howl of warning, designed to alert the king and his werebitch. Krinus had deliberately sacrificed himself.
Desperately, Varza flung out her own magic after Krinus’s. For a moment, she thought she was too late.
And then the Sidhe’s spell snuffed out like a candle.
Suppressing a grin of triumph, Varza released her be-spelled victim and walked away. Counting Gamal himself, all of the guards were under her control now.
Only one last element left to fall into place. And if her vision was correct, it should do so anytime now.
NINE
Llyr Galatyn was exquisitely polite for a king, but that didn’t stop him from grilling her like a television cop interrogating a serial killer. Nineva answered every question with scrupulous honesty, knowing he’d sense it if she didn’t.
The king’s gaze chilled when Nineva admitted she’d initially accepted the sword and Arralt’s offer to help her overthrow “the usurper.”
“So you consider me the usurper?” A muscle flexed in his jaw as power began to boil around him with his rising anger.
She refused to flinch from those cold opalescent eyes. “I wanted the Sword of Semira. Your Majesty, I was raised as the Last Avatar. My father taught me it’s my duty to free the goddess and fight the Dark Ones…”
“Do you believe me the usurper of the prophecy?” He rapped out the words, refusing to be diverted. His big, elegant hands clenched into fists.
“No, I’m convinced that’s Arralt. The actual words of the prophecy are ‘the Two Kingdoms liberated from he who would usurp them.’ That implies he makes the attempt and fails. You are king.”
“I’m relieved you noticed.” Thank the Goddess, he sounded more dry than angry now. “Yet you were willing to cooperate with the rebels initially. What changed your mind?”
Nineva related what she saw during Arralt’s spell, beginning with his murder of his mother. Llyr grunted, obviously unsurprised.
His expression turned grim when she described the Dark Ones stepping through a dimensional gate into Times Square. But the king went pale when she spoke of the pregnant woman she’d seen screaming in agony and the yellow-eyed Sidhe female threatening the bloody infant. “The Sidhe female lifted the Sword of Semira over the baby.” Nineva took a deep breath. “That was when I started trying to break free, so I didn’t see any more.”
A long, appalled silence ticked by. “Arralt’s working with the Dark Ones,” Llyr said finally.
“Apparently,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “And so is this yellow-eyed Sidhe woman. Does she sound familiar to you, Llyr?”
“I’m not sure.” The king frowned, then turned his attention to Nineva again. “Can you provide a more detailed description?”
“I think so.” She found a clear memory and reached for her power. The Sidhe’s face appeared in the air, three-dimensional and in color, glowing faintly with magic. A snarl twisted the mouth that otherwise might have been pretty, and eyes as feral and yellow as a bobcat’s glared at them with hate.
“Miss Congeniality, she ain’t,” Arthur muttered.
Llyr didn’t even crack a smile at the joke. He was too busy studying the image. “I don’t know her, but perhaps others will. If you’ll permit…?”
Nineva nodded. The image vanished as he absorbed it. He’d be able to call it up later for distribution among his men.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Nineva,” Llyr said at last, after she’d answered a few more questions. He turned to Arthur. “With your permission, I’d like to speak to Lord Kel.”
“Of course.” Arthur gave Nineva a smile that didn’t reach his dark eyes. She suspected he was worrying about the Dark Ones. “Mind excusing us for a minute? This shouldn’t take too much longer.”
Nineva nodded and got up, managed a credible curtsy, and escaped from the room with a sense of relief. Her back was damp with sweat beneath the velvet gown, and she desperately wanted to step outside for a breath of fresh air.
Gathering her skirts in both fists, she hurried down the marble corridor toward the double doors that led outside. She’d just hang out on the steps until Kel showed up.
All things considered, it had gone better than she’d feared. Llyr obviously considered the Dark Ones a greater threat to his throne than she was. Thank God for that prophecy, or he might be a lot more hostile.
She fidgeted restlessly, wishing there was any practical way she could start searching for the Sword of Semira. If she didn’t find it in a hurry, they were all screwed—Sidhe and Magekind alike. Even mortal humans would be in danger, because after the Dark Ones chewed through the magic users, they’d set their satanic sights on even easier prey.
Unfortunately, until she’d strengthened the goddess enough to guide her, she was just spinning her wheels. And that meant having a great deal of sex with Kel. Not that she minded. He was pretty damned good at it, after all.
If only he wouldn’t fry her in the process…
At Llyr’s prompting, Kel described his encounter with Cachamwri and his subsequent efforts to track Nineva down, culminating in the battle with Arralt and his men.
“So what do you think of this girl?” the Sidhe king asked at last.
Kel hesitated, a little surprised by the depth of emotion the question aroused. “She’s not interested in your throne,” he said at last, that being the simplest answer he could think of. “She’s definitely not working with the rebels.”
“So she says,” Llyr grunted.
“And you can take her at her word. She’s obsessed with freeing Semira—it’s what she was raised from birth to do. At the same time, this prophecy of hers scares the hell out of her.” He frowned. “And since I play a key role in it, she’s not too sure about me either.”
“Considering the nature of the prophecy, I don’t blame her.” The king studied him with a faint trace of amusement, his opalescent gaze acute. “You don’t like that.”
“Not really, no. I’m not used to having beautiful women fear me.”
“Could you do it?”
“Breathe fire on her?”
“Yes.”
Kel felt Arthur, Llyr, the two Majae, and even the king’s bodyguard watching him. “Hell, no.”
“Not even to save both Earths from the Dark Ones?”
Knowing when he was being tested, Kel didn’t hesitate. “I don’t believe the prophecy is literal. There’s got to be another interpretation. We just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”
Llyr sighed. “I hope you are right, my friend. I do wish Cachamwri would put in another appearance to one or the other of us. He could probably resolve these questions.”
“Unfortunately, the Dragon God is not in the habi
t of coming when called.” Kel’s voice sounded dry even to his own ears.
“Gods usually don’t,” Morgana pointed out. “And until he does, we’d better figure out what to do about Merlin’s Wards so the Dark Ones don’t get the opportunity to invade.”
“How did the check of the wards go?” Arthur asked the Majae.
“They’re still as strong as ever,” Guinevere told him.
“Then how the hell do the Dark Ones intend to get through?” His expression frustrated, Arthur sat back in his seat. “And if they know a way to break the wards, why haven’t they done it before now?”
“It’s got to be related to the Sword of Semira.” Llyr ran a thumb over his lower lip as he frowned in concentration. “The fact that it was stolen just before this all started can’t be a coincidence. What does Merlin’s Grimoire say?”
“Damned little.” Arthur drummed his fingers on the table. “Which is unusual. Grim’s not generally this…vague.”
Morgana shrugged. “Remember when he clammed up just before 9/11? Grim knows something he’s not telling.”
Llyr blinked, startled. “Why would he do that?”
“Something going on that’s fated to happen,” Guinevere explained. “He only gets obstructionist when he doesn’t want us preventing something that must occur in order to prevent something even worse.”
“What could have been worse than the destruction of the Twin Towers?” Llyr asked.
Gwen grimaced. “Al-Qaeda getting its hands on a Russian nuke and smuggling it into Washington through lax security. Which would have happened a year later if the Towers hadn’t come down. The U.S. would then have nuked Afghanistan. The Russians would have retaliated after the fallout started killing their people.” She shrugged. “World War III would have lasted three days and killed half the people on the planet. The rest would have envied the dead.”
Llyr looked at her. “Yes, that would have been worse.”
“But not worse than a Dark One invasion,” Arthur growled. “I’ve seen those bastards work. I think it’s time for our bookish friend to answer a few questions, fate or no fate. Grim!”
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