Page 102 of Sanctuary with Kings

Hywel was already out of the water, his clothes steaming dry as he held a hand out to Laszlo and helped him back onto the stone landing. Asterion stood at the center of the cave opening, staring out into the darkness, his shoulders bouncing.

"Stand up,blodyn bach, let us get a look at you," Hywel muttered.

Conall crawled up onto the stone at my side as Hywel pulled me to stand, tucking me between himself and Laszlo. Laszlo's glasses were sitting crookedly on his nose, golden wings dripping.

"Oh! Your feathers are ruffled," I said, smoothing a hand over some of the bent and broken feathers at the edge of Laszlo's wing.

"I'll be fine. Turn and let us see your back," the gryphon fussed.

"I'm tempted to send you flyingstraighthome with Laszlo—" Hywel fumed.

I rose to my toes as Asterion's horns ducked out of sight. Rolant had also pulled himself out of the water, his temple bleeding and an annoyed scowl plastered over his face as he watched my lovers hovering around me. And Asterion was bent over, body shaking and breath puffing, his hands planted on his knees. I tried to squeeze between Hywel and Laszlo, but there were too many hands on me.

"Asterion? Asterion, what's wrong?" I called, heart hammering in my chest. Had he been kicked as the centicore charged out of the cave? Was he fighting for air?

Laszlo and Hywel paused in asking me questions and turned to check on the minotaur, who let out a sudden sharp bark of sound. Another followed a moment later, Asterion's back heaving, and then a great many in succession. I sighed and rolled back on my heels, bumping into Conall crowding close behind me.

Asterion was laughing. Bursting, bellowing laughter, his body shaking with the sound and the effort of holding it in.

"You just loosed—" he wheezed out, trying to straighten and then leaning forward again, arms wrapped around his stomach as he guffawed. He shook his head and turned, standing and meeting my gaze, a lovely crooked smile stretched over his lips. "You just loosed one of the most ancient and feared beasts into the countryside,théa."

Rolant huffed and sagged against the wall of the cave, shaking his head. "It will hide itself. It didn't live this long without adapting like the rest of us."

"Oh, we can certainly hope not," Asterion answered, still grinning. "Our Lady of the Lake won't be pleased."

I huffed. "I'm not especially pleased with her at the moment. That was a horrible trick."

"Well, I doubt you're quite the hero she expected to retrieve the sword," Rolant muttered.

"But youareworthy of it," Hywel declared. "Pick up your sword, Evanthia."

I blinked. "It's not mine," I said, even as my eyes fell naturally down to the blade at my feet. The pool had washed the metal clean of the centicore's blood, and the long shaft of the sword was as brilliant and bright as starlight.

"Nimue always meant the sword to be wielded by humans and halflings," Laszlo said, eyeing me over his crooked glasses. "You were the natural choice of our party. And youdidpull it free."

I opened my mouth to object and Conall growled, his hands on my hips tightening. "Pick it up,mo chroí. You're riding back withme."

There was an edge to the words and an almost biting possession of his grip on my hips. I turned to look at Conall and found him still tightly-wound and glaring. I glanced at the others, unsure if Hywel would protest, but he and Laszlo didn't seem surprised, only petted their hands over me and then stepped away. At the entrance of the cave, Asterion's gaze glinted on me, his huge grin now a slight smirk, a secret understanding in the look, a reminder of the competition for my affection that he was refusing to partake in.

"Evie," Conall whispered, desperate.

I bent and picked up the sword, startled by how light it was in my grip, how perfectly it fit in my hand.

Rolant was eyeing my hand on the sword with something between anger and envy. Hywel's shoulder knocked against his as he passed.

"My mates always find thebesttreasure for our hoard, don't you think?" Hywel taunted.

CHAPTER31

THE RISE OF THE RED WOLF

“Are you still angry with me?" I asked upon waking on horseback, warm and cozy against Conall's chest, his legs around mine and the horse we rode moving gently along its path.

"Yes," he said, but the word was soft, and he bent his head to nuzzle against my throat.

"Even if you'd all been able to kill that poor creature—"

"That poor creature the size of three carriages put together, with horns designed by the devil himself—"

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