“What about your people?”
“They’re not my son. But Maddor is yours.” Tears blurred her vision. “For that, we march to hell itself.”
His expression softened into the tenderest look imaginable. One that tugged at her heart. In two strides, he moved to stand before her and pulled her against him for the hottest kiss she’d ever known.
And when he pulled back, she saw the first spark of love in his eyes as he cradled her face in his calloused hands. He didn’t say the words, but she knew what the softening in his eyes meant. It was the same look Evander had given her so many centuries before. One she’d missed so much that for a moment, it almost broke her, as she’d never, ever thought to have another man look at her like this. To feel the sudden primal rush through her body that wanted her to hold him safe and keep him close.
Forevermore.
With one ragged breath, she shoved her tender emotions aside and forced herself to remember her anger that kept her strong.
This was about blood. And oaths.
Family.
Today, they would fight. Tomorrow, she would feel.
Brandor cleared his throat as he nudged Urian. “I’m thinking they didn’t just get lost in those woods.”
“Yeah…” Urian dragged the word out. “Wondering if I should kick dragon ass now, or later.”
Medea nipped Falcyn’s chin, then turned to her brother. “Lay one finger on my dragonfly, brother, and you’ll be missing vital body parts.”
Urian snorted. “Not much of a threat, seeing how I never use them, anyway.”
Medea frowned as she faced Shadow. “Do I know you?”
“No.”
And still she had a strange sensation that they’d met somewhere. That she’d seen him. Something about him was unbelievably familiar.
She just didn’t know what.
Falcyn stepped around her. “Shadow, get Urian back to Sanctuary. We’ll—”
“Ah, no,” Urian said, interrupting him. “We stay together.”
Shadow exchanged a less-than-amused stare with his gargoyle. “Oh yeah, ’cause a large, unfamiliar motley group sneaking through Camelot would never get noticed. By anyone. Or get reported to Morgen and her bitches. Sounds like a great suicide plan to me. So glad Varian volunteered me for this happy venture into torture and hell. Bastard fey rat that he is!”
“Don’t insult my father like that.”
They all gaped at the indignant gargoyle.
The gargoyle glanced around them and their shocked expressions. “Well, obviously I’m adopted. While my father might have questionable morality, I promise he never got frisky with a rock.”
Medea laughed at the last thing she’d expected. A rock with a sense of humor.
Shadow grinned. “Realizing belatedly that I should have introduced you all. Beau duFey … this is … them. Best known as the ones who are going to get us killed.”
“Is he a member of the Stone Legion?” Medea remembered Blaise talking about them earlier.
“No.” Beau tucked his wings down. “The Legion were all members of the Round Table. Knights who were cursed. I was born long after Morgen took Camelot from Arthur.”
“In fact, he was born not too far from here.”
Beau nodded at Blaise. “Uncle Blaise was there for it. Sort of.”
Blaise made his way to the gargoyle. “And you should have spoken up earlier to let me know you were here with Shadow. I thought I felt another presence, but then you went still and I no longer sensed you.”
Beau hugged him. “Sorry, Uncle. You looked busy and I didn’t want to intrude.”
Blaise clapped him on the back before he let him go. “That’s the problem with all you natural-born gargoyles … not a very verbose bunch.”
Falcyn draped his arm over Medea. “You sure about this? Shadow’s right. Heading into Camelot with us isn’t the sanest bet.”
She nodded.
He leaned down to kiss her head.
As quickly as the tenderness had come, it vanished the instant Falcyn met Shadow’s gaze. “All right then, demon, off to Camelot to see what trouble we can find.”
Shadow let out a fierce groan. “Why do I always end up with the crazy ones?”
Urian winked at him. “Birds of a feather?”
Shadow sneered at him. “Now I remember why I don’t like you.” He swept his gaze to Blaise and Falcyn. “Any of you, as far as that goes.”
With a deep breath, Shadow cracked his knuckles. “All right, kids. Last chance. Those who want a ticket to Sanity, raise your hand and we go out the portal to your home realm.”
He waited a full minute before he let out an exaggerated groan. “Okay then, suicide it is. Buckle up, buttercups. Keep your hands inside the cart at all times and try not to get your heads chopped off. Thank you for choosing to ride The Grand Stupidity today, and for dragging me into this when I’d much rather be at home, sorting my dirty underwear and watching the grass grow.”
“Oh stop your bitching.” Blaise clapped him on the arm. “You love the excitement.”
“Yeah, you keep believing those lies, mandrake, and inhaling those fumes.” Shadow manifested a long rope.
Medea frowned as he stepped toward Brogan with it. “What are you doing?”
He paused to give her an irritated grimace. “Well, punkin, if we march in through the front doors, Morgen’s entire Circle will descend on us like vultures on nummy roadkill. And while I do have more stupidity than the average man and a certain flair for theatrics, I can really do without a thorough gutting. Fact is, I’m doing my best to avoid the experience for the entirety of my exceptionally long life.” He knotted the rope around Brogan’s waist.
“You plan to take us through the Shadowland.” Brogan’s voice was scarce more than a whisper.
He nodded. “If we teleport into Camelot, Morgen will know instantly. Only safe way in or out is my realm.”
Medea was even more confused as Shadow moved to loop and tie Brogan to Brandor. “And so I ask again … why the rope?”
“Keeps you from getting lost in the dark, princess.” Shadow moved next to Blaise.
“Remember the SOD?” Brandor asked her.
“Yeah.”
Brandor double-checked the knot at his waist, which told her how serious this was. “We’re going into the world that spawned them.”
Her heart stopped beating as she finally understood. “The thread between the worlds?”
Shadow nodded. “Home sweet fucking home. The rope is to keep anything from snatching one of you away from me while we move through it.”
Because to get lost there was to never be seen again. The darkness was ever hungry and sought any nourishment it could find.