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Chapter Twelve
Arianrhod brought them out close to the same time they’d left Rhukon’s manor house. She aimed for a bit earlier, so perhaps they could confront just him, without Connor or Danne to contend with. Rhukon could always shift to his dragon form, but one dragon was much easier to corral than three.
She watched Angus sidelong. Cathbad had wakened something in him, and she wondered where it would lead. He wasn’t the same man who’d fought by her side beneath Rhukon’s manor house. Harder. Determined. More sure of himself. And even more appealing to her—if that were possible. What had taken root within him would make it that much more difficult for her to do what she’d eventually have to: return to her life—and position—in the Celtic Pantheon.
She thought about the child. Had Cathbad known about it? She was fairly certain Angus didn’t. Not yet anyway. What would he say if he knew?
Angus gripped her elbow. “Now who’s daydreaming?”
She turned to face him. Because she was weak where he was concerned, she wrapped her arms around him and let her body melt into his. He cradled her head in his hands and tilted her face back so he could look at her.
“How do you plan to approach Rhukon? Do you have any idea what he and Connor are up to?”
“Aye, and ’tis a good question. Actually two of them.”
Ceridwen’s words came back to her.Lachlan and his dragon havena been seen for hundreds of years. They vanished without a trace. Britta and her dragon retreated to an earlier time. We must know if foul energy has infiltrated the dragon shifter bond. If incentives to tempt even the staunchest mage to dark power exist, I would know of them.
She opened her mouth, but Angus shook his head. “I read your thoughts easily enough. It appears your instructions were far more inclusive than mine. Where I was to determine Eletea’s complicity, you were tasked with determining if the evil that’s permeated the dragon shifter bond has spread.”
“Close enough.” She grinned ruefully. “Ceridwen is right about Lachlan and Kheladin, his dragon. No one’s seen them since the tail end of the sixteen hundreds. Mayhap they’d be a good starting point.”
“You’re planning to knock on the front door, waltz in, and have a polite conversation? Ask if he’s seen Lachlan lately?” Angus bristled. “After what he did to you?”
“Aye, were ye planning to use magic to knock that same door down?” She furled her brows, but kept talking without waiting for a reply. “Ye wouldna prevail. Rhukon is strong because of his link with Malik. While we’re there, I’d like to examine his relationship to Mitha as well. I’ve thought about who she might be, and there was a minor noblewoman of the same name who shared Rhukon’s bed for a time. If we can identify her, betimes we can figure out who her friend is.”
“He won’t answer any of your questions.” Angus’s gaze held a hard, flat look.
“Not directly, but mayhap ye can either dig into his mind while I keep him busy with polite conversation, or ye can at least gather enough to dream the truth once we leave.”
Angus’s eyes widened as the possibilities registered. Clearly, he hadn’t considered that alternative. He pressed his lips together. “That would be a new avenue for my power. I haven’t used it in quite that way before.”
“Consider this good practice.”
He shook his head. “I’d rather have practiced before I needed it. This is too important to fuck it up.”
She thought about the Morrigan. Shielding her kin ran deep, no matter how annoying they were, but Angus deserved the truth. Straightening, she moved out of his embrace. “I’m not certain, but ’tis possible the Battle Crow has her talons mixed into this mess as well. She always was a pot-stirrer, and she adores conflict. Thrives on it. One of the reasons I’m here is because Mitha was a distant relation of hers, and she pitched a fit about her death at the Celtic Council.”
Angus spread his mouth into a cynical smile. “I’ve avoided the Morrigan up until now. Both Gwydion and Arawn suggested steering clear of that one.”
“Wise. She has a long memory and holds grudges. Once when she—”
The blare of dragon hunting cries drowned out her words. Arianrhod craned her neck to look skyward and set her jaw in a resolute line. So much for plans. Two dragons were headed their way. She recognized the black as Malik, but the one with him was a pale ivory shade, something she’d never seen before.
Angus shaded his eyes with a hand and muttered, “What the hell? I had no idea there were white dragons.” He raised his dark brows into question marks.
“Neither did I.” She sent power scattering skyward, trying to sense if the other dragon was shrouded with some arcane magic she wasn’t familiar with.
Not a dragon.
Illusion.
Even though it felt like plunging an appendage into liquid heat that burned worse than a hundred fires, she pressed through the shielding around the white dragon. And wished she’d left well enough alone.
Angus funneled power after hers. A muffled grunt told her the barrier burned him as well. He barked a word that cut the flow of both their magics. Anger flickered in the depths of his eyes. “Funny. We were just talking about her. Why wouldn’t she take her own form?”
“Because she likes to play tricks.” Arianrhod curled her hands into fists. What in the nine hells was the Morrigan doing masquerading as a dragon?
“I imagine we’re about to find out.” Angus answered her unspoken question. He stood straighter, hands at his sides, and menace flowed from him.
