He’d always hated stepping through one of these gates. Blaise was a lot more used to it than he was, since he held one of the keys that enabled him to travel to and from the veil world where Merlin had pulled Avalon and Camelot to so that she could protect the other worlds and realms from Morgen’s evil. After the death of King Arthur, it’d been the only way to secure the realm of man, and the other eight worlds from Morgen and her evil Circle. Otherwise, Morgen’s fey court would have enslaved them all.
But as for Falcyn, he liked to stay planted in one dimension. This kind of hopping through nether portals crap was not his forte.
And as the colors swirled and he lost his bearings and feared his lunch would follow, Falcyn definitely understood why he’d always felt that way. This shit sucked! Give him wings and flight or teleportation any day.
Especially when he went slamming hard into a dark, damp ground a few minutes later.
Gah! That was going to leave a mark.
Groaning, he lay on his back as everything spun around like a Tilt-A-Whirl. And he hadn’t even got a funnel cake or fried Twinkie out of it.
With a grimace, Falcyn rubbed at his eyes. “Blaise? You dead?”
“No.” He didn’t sound like he was in any better shape than Falcyn, though.
“Good. I want the pleasure of killing you myself, you bastard!”
Blaise snorted.
“Don’t scoff, dragon,” Urian said, his tone every bit as peeved. “Soon as I can move again, I intend to help with your murder and dismemberment.”
Falcyn turned his head to the right, where Medea lay a few feet away from his side, unmoving on the grass. “Medea?”
She finally lifted a hand to brush her hair from her face. “Not dead, either.”
That made him feel a bit better. “Brogan?”
“Just wishing I was.” Shifting her legs, she made no move to rise. Rather she seemed content to lie on her back, staring up at the dismally gray sky. “Is it always this miserable to travel in such a manner?”
Blaise sighed. “Pretty much. Least I didn’t slam into an invisible force field this time.”
Rolling over, Falcyn pushed himself into a sitting position, then scowled as he caught sight of the dark, twisted trees around him. Trees that lined an equally screwed-up, bleak landscape the likes of which he hadn’t thought to ever see again.
Oh, this can’t be right.
Yet he knew he wasn’t dreaming. And he definitely wasn’t imagining this.
“Hey, Blaise … Why the hell are we in Camelot?”
“Whaaaaat?” He rose with a fierce scowl and looked up as if he could see the sky, which he couldn’t. But it didn’t stop him from trying.
Falcyn let out a tired, irritated sigh. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”
His white-blond hair shimmering in the fey light, Blaise paled as he sniffed the air. “Well … you’re kind of wrong.”
“How so?”
“This isn’t Camelot … exactly.”
That only made his stomach tighten with dread. “What’s not exactly Camelot?”
“Val Sans Retour.”
Ah shit … He’d rather be in Camelot. With Morgen, tied to her throne. Naked and declawed.
Muzzled even.
Sitting up immediately, Medea scowled at them both. “The what?”
Falcyn let out another groan before he answered. “The Valley of No Return. So named because no one ever comes out of here alive. Like Blaise … because I really am going to kill him as soon as I find my strength.”
“Not true!” Blaise stood and took a defensive position. “I came out alive a few years back when I was here.”
Falcyn made a rude noise at the reminder of the mandrake’s less-than-stellar adventure.
Medea rose and brushed herself off. “Did you?”
“Yeah. Me and Varian. Merewyn, too.”
His anger rising, Falcyn went to the mandrake, dreading an answer to a question no one was asking. “But why are we here now, Blaise? How did we get here?”
Blaise quirked a sarcastic smirk that really tested Falcyn’s patience and restraint. “Did you sleep through the part where we stepped into a magick portal and were sucked through a vortex?”
“Don’t make me beat you with my shoe.”
“Well, I’m just wondering. ’Cause you asked. I mean, you were there, were you not? You didn’t miss that rather large, ghastly light we stepped into, did you?”
“Yeah, but I have a head injury, right now. Maybe a concussion. Thinking some kind of serious brain damage. Definitely trauma of some sort. And a migraine the size of you.”
Urian broke off Falcyn’s tirade by jerking on his sleeve to get his attention.
Even more irritated, Falcyn barely kept himself from slugging him. But there was something in the man’s eyes that stayed his reaction.
Curious, he followed Urian’s line of sight and turned his head to where Urian was staring at something over Falcyn’s left shoulder.
The moment his gaze focused on Brogan and the man who’d materialized by her side, he scowled. “Who’s that?”
“Don’t know, but she seems to know him.”
By the look on Blaise’s face, he did, too.
And they weren’t friends.
Falcyn narrowed his gaze on him. “Blaise?”
A tic started in his jaw. “I know that essence when I feel it. It’s Brevalaer. Morgen’s pet whore.”
6
Brogan hissed at Blaise. “His name is Brandor! Not Brevalaer! And you will not disrespect him again in my presence by using such a fey insult for him! Do you understand me?”
Falcyn’s jaw went slack at her unexpected outburst.
Okay, then …
Nice fit from our new companion.
In a complete huff, Brogan embraced the tall, dark Adoni male. Eyes wide, Medea met Blaise’s equally shocked expression. While he couldn’t see her current actions, he’d definitely heard her verbal explosion.
A tic started in the mandrake’s jaw. “Are they kissing?”
Stunned by the amount of jealousy betrayed in that single question, Medea screwed her face up. “No, but she is hugging him like she hasn’t seen him in a really¸ really long time.”
Falcyn cocked his head. “Does kissing his cheek count?”
Medea popped him on the stomach as Blaise’s expression turned into one of extreme pain. “That’s mean! Don’t torture the poor mandrake!”
With a fierce grimace, Falcyn and Urian stepped around her to approach Brogan and Brandor with those predator gaits she knew so well. “What’s going on here?”
Medea stayed back to cover them.
Just in case. As she’d quickly learned that when hanging out with these two, literally anything was possible.
Brandor, who was the same height as Falcyn, put himself between Brogan and them. Even though his clothes were ragged and it was obvious he hadn’t been living well, he kept one arm on Brogan as if to protect her while he braced his body to confront Falcyn. Medea would give him bonus points for that. Spoke well of him that he was concerned for Brogan’s welfare.
Still, she reserved judgment.
Even assholes could have consciences from time to time.
Extremely tall and handsome, he had the same chiseled striking features that marked all Adoni. Of course a lot of that had to do with the fact that if any child was deemed “unfit” their mothers abandoned them to die. Or dumped them in the human world to fend for themselves with no knowledge of their otherworldly ties.
Yeah, the fey and demons had a lot in common.
She could almost feel bad for the guy even if he was gorgeous, with his long, wavy black hair and hazel eyes so green they all but glowed with an unholy fire.
By his predatorial stance, it was obvious he knew how to fight and wasn’t afraid to bleed.
But as Medea shifted her gaze from him to Brogan and back again, she realized that their features were extremely similar. Not just because they were both fey and both had pointed ears …
“I had Brogan bring you here so that I could speak with you.”
The look on Falcyn’s face said that if he’d still possessed his dragon’s fyre Brandor would have been incinerated on the spot. “Excuse me?”