Otherworld Challenger (18 page)

“Only that there is no such thing as a prisoner here on Avalon. If you cross Morgan le Fay you don't stay alive.”

“Good morning.” They turned at the sound of Lisbet's cheery greeting. “Did you all have the same idea as me?” When they regarded her blankly, she pointed to the summit of the hill. “King Arthur's tomb is at the top.”

With one accord, they followed as Lisbet started to climb. The hill was almost conical, ringed around its base with tall pine trees. They accomplished the climb in silence, aware of the solemnity of the occasion. Could this be the place of so much speculation? The legendary resting place of King Arthur? The morning was bright but cold, and Vashti's breath plumed in front of her as she walked in silence, her long skirts swishing around her ankles. At the top, the whole island of Avalon was spread below them in a tapestry of green and gold.

An eerie quiet hung over the hilltop as though the creatures who frequented the surrounding hills and fields had reached a consensus to avoid this one. The summit was flat and, in the center, there was a marble tomb guarded at each corner by a dragon carved in stone. Aydan placed his hand on the head of one of the stone beasts and a deep rumbling sound came from within the ground itself. He withdrew his hand in surprise and the sound ceased.

“What do you think would happen if I tried to touch the casket itself?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

“I don't recommend you find out,” Vashti replied.

Jethro and Lisbet were both curiously quiet. Jethro's eyes were fixed on the tomb. Lisbet's gaze was fastened hungrily on Jethro's face. To Vashti it seemed the other woman was trying to drink in his every flicker of emotion as he viewed this place. She had become used to Lisbet's near obsession with Jethro, but the gloating expression on her face as she watched him was unsettling. Vashti turned away from the raw emotion on Lisbet's face and focused her attention on the tomb.

“To think King Arthur lies here.” Aydan's voice was hushed with awe. “Waiting for the time when the world needs him once more.”

“No, that isn't true.” Vashti spoke automatically, unaware of what she was going to say until the words had left her lips.

“What do you mean?” Aydan looked at her in surprise.

Vashti shook herself, but the feeling persisted. She knew she was right. Her fae intuition was stronger than ever here. “King Arthur's body was placed here, that much of the legend is true, but his spirit is long gone from this place.” She pointed to the casket. “All that lies within that tomb are the mortal remains of the man he once was.”

“So is he a ghost? Does he walk the mortal realm?” Aydan clasped his hands to his head as though trying to contain the questions that were forming there. “Or does he reside in Otherworld? If that was the case, surely he would have made himself known to Cal, the man who was his friend and mentor in life?”

Vashti didn't answer. Her concentration was all on Jethro. He was a necromancer. If she could sense so much from King Arthur's resting place, how much stronger must it be for him? Her answer was clear in his physical reaction. His face was pale, his eyes wide and his limbs trembling. His dark gaze seemed fixed on a point just beyond the casket. Vashti moved toward him but before she could reach him he fell to his knees. She knelt beside him, throwing her arms around him. Gratefully, he returned her embrace, his whole body juddering violently.

“What is it? Tell me.”

He shook his head. His teeth were chattering so hard he could barely speak. “I can't explain it. I've never felt a connection so strong before. Yet you're right. There is no soul left here.” Gradually the tremors running through him stilled. “How can I relate to something that doesn't exist?”

Lisbet, in that strange way she had, seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. A tiny smile played around her lips as she looked at the tomb. After casting a wary glance in her direction, Aydan came closer to Jethro and Vashti. “Could your extreme reaction have been caused by the emotion of who he was? Let's face it, this is no ordinary grave. He was no ordinary man.”

Shakily, Jethro rose. “I suppose that's one explanation.” He looked out across the landscape. Beyond the rolling fields of Avalon, the seas of Otherworld were visible. “If his spirit is gone from Avalon, it raises an important question.”

Aydan spoke the thought that was in all their minds. “Where is Arthur now?”

They all fell silent as they contemplated the words.

“We may never find out.” Vashti decided someone needed to be the practical one. “And that is not our quest.”

Jethro laughed. “You're right. We have a challenger to find before we can go in search of the ancient king of the Britons.” Linking his arm through Vashti's, he called over his shoulder to Lisbet. “Shall we go?”

Her face had a dreamy, faraway quality, and she didn't look away from the tomb when she finally spoke. “I'll stay here a while longer.”

“I'll keep you company,” Aydan offered.

“No.” A flicker of impatience penetrated her reverie. “I want to be alone here.”

Jethro's face softened with a touch of sympathy for the younger man. “Only those truly fascinated with the Arthurian legends would get it,” he explained. “Let's leave her to her obsession.”

* * *

“The proposal I have been told to make is a simple one. You are to remain here. In exchange for your cooperation, your companions will be permitted to leave Avalon.” Iago's wolfish smile gleamed. “Unharmed.”

Jethro regarded him thoughtfully across the wide, oak desk. Iago had summoned him to this meeting and insisted they speak alone. “Why am I to stay here?”

“That information has not been shared with me.”

“Can you find out?” Jethro felt his temper begin to boil.

“I can ask, but it is not always wise to question the ways of Morgan le Fay.”

Jethro stood in an explosive movement. “If it was your fucking future we were talking about, you might have a few questions.”

Iago inclined his head. “I will see what I can do.”

Jethro's mind was racing. Should he agree to this bizarre offer? It meant Vashti would be safe—and Aydan and Lisbet, of course—then he could make his own escape without having to worry about them. But what did Morgan want with him? It seemed the challenger wasn't on Avalon. Could he string this out long enough to make certain of that and also deal with Iago?

“How long would I be expected to stay here?”

“Forever.” Iago's smile deepened. “You, my friend, are the chosen consort of Morgan le Fay.”

Jethro muttered a curse. “Consort? You mean her partner?”

“Partner. Lover. Husband. These are just words. The outcome is the same.”

Of the dozens of thoughts whirling around in Jethro's mind, one insistently forced its way to the top and onto his lips. “How can Morgan make such a proposition to me? We have never met.” He hated the slight croak to his voice. It made him sound fearful instead of plain incredulous. “Don't tell me. It is wise not to question?”

Iago grinned in genuine amusement. “You learn fast.”

“You're willing to let Vashti go as part of this deal? I thought you had other plans for her.”

Iago's lips thinned so much they almost disappeared. “I did. Let's just say, I have been informed my desires are unimportant in this matter. Morgan wants you. She feels Vashti would be an unnecessary complication if she remained on Avalon.”

So Morgan—a woman he'd never met—knew of his relationship with Vashti? Knew enough of it to be jealous. How? The thought of Morgan le Fay watching him without his knowledge made his flesh crawl.
You think I'm going to stick around and be your consort...your lapdog? Think again.

“I need time to consider this.”

Iago inclined his head. “I cannot give you long. Shall we say you will give me your reply tomorrow?”

“If I say no?”

“Former hostilities will resume.” The wolfish smile dawned.

Former hostilities will resume.
It was tempting to give Iago his answer there and then.
Bring it on.

When he left Iago, Jethro went in search of Vashti. He found her on the castle's high battlements, gazing out across the landscape. She looked up at his face in astonishment as he drew her into his arms and held her without speaking. As always, her presence soothed and strengthened him.

“What is it?”

Briefly he outlined his conversation with Iago. “You are to leave and I am to stay. Forever. As Morgan's consort.”

Her smooth brow furrowed. “This is madness.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “The sort of madness that exists only on Avalon. We have to leave this place before we succumb to it, as well.”

Vashti leaned back in his arms. “Jethro, can she see us
all the time
? Is Morgan le Fay watching us right now, listening in on our conversation?”

“Can she have those sorts of powers? Surely she operates through Iago?”

“Think about it. Haven't you noticed how people here look over their shoulder when they talk about her? How else has she seen enough of you to know she wants you at her side for all time? How does she know enough about us to decide she needs to get rid of me?”

“It doesn't make sense. If she's been observing me, she must know I'm not the sort of person who's going to bow down and obey her commands. Why would she want
me
, after all these centuries of being on her own?”

“I don't think it will do us any good to try to get inside the mind of Morgan le Fay.”

He drew Vashti closer. “Well, if she is watching us right now, she can fucking watch this.” He lowered his head, searing her lips with a kiss.

Vashti responded instantly, wrapping her arms around his neck and fitting her body tightly to his.

When they moved apart, Jethro stood against the battlement wall, looking onto the green field below. “In Camelot, that was where the jousts were held.” He could almost see the colors and hear the shouts as the knights lined up for the tournament.

“How do you know these things?” Vashti came to stand at his side.

“I wish I knew. It's the oddest feeling. Like a distant memory that grows stronger all the time.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Perhaps I'm becoming infected with the madness of Avalon.”

“Rina!” Vashti's eyes sparkled suddenly. “Although she was scared, she definitely knew something. Maybe she can tell me how Morgan gets to know everything without physically being here.”

“Shall I come with you?”

She shook her head. “You caused the strangest reaction when she saw you, remember? Like you were a movie star she'd had a crush on from way back.”

Jethro pulled a wry face. “Good luck getting any sense out of her. I think she might be mad.”

“You probably would have fit right in at Camelot,” Vashti told him sternly. “Political correctness isn't your strong point.”

“If I'd been born in medieval times I'd know that young ladies wouldn't lift their skirts up to their knees or run like an Olympic sprinter out of the starting block,” he called after her as she set off. “And they certainly wouldn't make those sorts of rude gestures at their gentleman friends.”

Chapter 17

A
s she searched for Rina, Vashti also tried to contact her sister. She felt an overwhelming need to hear her sister's voice.

Tanzi, can you hear me?
No matter how hard she tried, there was no response to her psychic cries for help.

After searching the castle for almost an hour, Vashti found Rina near the kitchens. Although the little sidhe protested she was busy, she eventually allowed herself to be dragged off to Vashti's room.

“Can anyone overhear our conversation?” Vashti asked as she closed the door behind them.

Rina appeared genuinely confused. “I don't think so.”

“Rina, how does Morgan le Fay know so much about what goes on here when she is away?”

“She is a powerful sorceress.” Rina sounded like a child reciting lines from a poem she had learned by heart.

“Does she have some kind of magical closed-circuit television?”

Rina was starting to look a little scared. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Can Morgan watch anyone on Avalon, any time she wants?”

“No. She confides in me. She wishes she had that sort of power. Her magic is illusory and, of course, it can be extremely destructive. But, although she has a psychic link with Iago, she does not have a second sight of the sort that has been granted to the Spae.”

So much for the theory Morgan was here, maintaining an all-seeing, invisible presence. Vashti sat on the bed, patting the space next to her. Warily, Rina joined her. “I need to confide in you about why we are here on Avalon, because you may be able to help me.”

“I don't think...”

“Rina, please hear me out. Other than the friends I came here with, you are the only person I can trust.” Rina gave a single, nervous nod. “Everyone here on Avalon believes we are here at the invitation of Morgan le Fay and, in a way, that is true. But we are also here in search of someone. You know the story of how my father came to the faerie throne?”

Rina swallowed hard. “I know your father has threatened death to any who speaks of it.”

“My father is in exile. And I want you to speak of it.”

Even with that permission, Rina's voice was hesitant. “Your father was a sidhe general in King Ivo's army. He had no claim to the throne, only great ambition and, it was said, a ruthlessness that knew no bounds. One night, the royal family was gathered together at the faerie palace for a celebration. Your father and his followers massacred them all and staged a coup in which Moncoya claimed the throne. His rule from then on has been bloody and absolute. No one has dared to oppose him.”

“There is one other story about the night of the massacre. That a child—a royal baby—escaped.”

Rina's hands twisted in the folds of her gown. “I have heard that story.”

“That child will be a man now, of course. Soon, each Otherworld dynasty will be offered the chance to choose their own leader in a democratic election. There is a strong chance that, even though he has been in exile after the battle to depose him, the fae will choose Moncoya. That is because there is no real opposition for them to choose. If we can find King Ivo's heir, the faeries will have an alternative to the harshness of my father's regime. That is why we are here on Avalon. We have come in search of that child.”

“He is not here.” Rina spoke quickly. Too quickly.

This was where the old Vashti and the new Vashti differed. The old Vashti would have grasped Rina by her shoulders and shaken her, dragging the truth from her by force. The new Vashti, the one who had discovered her fae intuition, took a breath. Sometimes she wished the new Vashti would go to hell, but maybe—just maybe—she had her uses. Even though her heart was pounding wildly, Vashti kept her voice even and gentle. “How do you know that?”

Rina raised a shaking hand to her lips. Any color she might have had drained from her face, leaving it ashen. Realizing she had said too much, she shook her head. “I can't...”

Vashti moved closer to her. “Rina, do you know something more about that child? If you do, I'm begging you to tell me.” She reached for Rina's hand and was encouraged when the other woman didn't pull away. “No one will ever know it was you who told me.”

Slowly, Rina nodded. “It has been my burden ever since that night.”

Vashti resisted the inclination to gasp dramatically. “You were there?”

Rina's eyes filled with tears. “I was his nurse. I smuggled him out of the castle minutes before the killing began.”

* * *

Aydan's jaw dropped in a comical expression when Jethro told him of Morgan's proposition. “She actually said she wanted you to stay here and be her...” He glanced over his shoulder and Jethro wanted to yell at him not to do that.
Don't fall for it. She can't hear you.
“Her lover?”

“The message came via Iago but, yes, that was it exactly. If you can believe it. I'm not sure I can.”

Lisbet was standing between them. Her dark, unfathomable eyes raked Jethro's face. “And will you stay?”

Rage boiled up instantly inside him and overflowed like molten lava. How the hell could she ask him something like that? The longer he spent in her company, the greater his unease around Lisbet grew. Although he knew his anger was directed at Morgan, Jethro's reply came out more harshly than he'd intended it to. “Are you out of your fucking mind? What do you take me for? You seriously think I'd consider staying here, living in the past so some demented old witch can keep me as her toy boy? In the next twenty-four hours I intend to choke the life out of that trickster bastard Iago before I leave this hellhole behind me forever.”

With a sob, Lisbet whirled around and ran inside the castle. Jethro stared after her, his anger turning in on himself. “Damn it all to hell.” He turned to Aydan. “I'm sorry. Will you go after her? The mood I'm in, I'm likely to say the wrong thing and make it worse.”

Aydan nodded. “For what it's worth, I don't blame you for losing your temper. It was a stupid question.”

Jethro gave him a shaky half smile of thanks. Left alone, he climbed the steps onto the battlements where he had met Vashti earlier. Where was she? Surely she must have finished talking to Rina by now? Vashti was the only person who could restore his mood.

Even so, as he stood surveying the scene, he felt he could be losing his mind. He hadn't begun to confide the strangeness of his thoughts even to Vashti. Were they thoughts or could they actually be the memories they appeared? Since he'd arrived on Avalon, Jethro seemed to be viewing the world through someone else's eyes. Things were coming back to him he never knew he'd experienced.
No, that's wrong. I
can't
have experienced.
Yet the things he was recalling were too real to have happened to someone else.

Was it something in the atmosphere of Avalon? If that was the case why weren't Vashti, Aydan and Lisbet experiencing the same illusions? Was someone—Iago or Morgan—forcing these experiences on him? Was he being given hallucinogenic drugs or was some sort of subtle hypnosis at work?

Or am I simply caught up in the atmosphere? So susceptible to what this place means I have convinced myself I am an Arthurian knight, one of the legendary king's faithful followers? Because that's the only reason I can think of for these strange imaginings in which I picture Camelot—the true Camelot—and my own place within it.

A footstep behind him made him swing around, a smile on his face as he anticipated Vashti's return. “Well, what did you discover?”

“I discovered you have no intention of taking my grandmother's proposal seriously.” Iago's usual smile was missing.

“I don't know what you mean.”
Play for time. Stall. Deny everything.
Jethro wasn't good at lying, but he was prepared to give it a damn good try.

“Let me remind you. I think the words you used were...‘demented old witch...trickster bastard'—who you plan to choke the life out of—and ‘hellhole.' Do any of those things sound familiar?”

Clearly, Vashti had been right all along. He should have been looking over his shoulder. Morgan had some sort of omnipotent presence whereby she could see and hear what was going on all the time. With his little outburst, he had effectively announced his intentions.
So what?

He shrugged. “You didn't seriously think I
would
stay, did you? Or that, after the stunt you pulled with the Sluagh, there was any way I wasn't going to rip your fucking throat out?”

The smile did appear then but it was a façade. Behind it, Iago's eyes glittered pure evil. “So sad. But good news for me. This way, I get to keep your little princess.”

Jethro lunged at him. Or rather, he tried to. Nothing happened. It was as if an invisible force pinned him to the spot.

“Keep your filthy hands off her.” That was what he wanted to say. No words came out of his lips.

The edges of his vision began to darken. His limbs felt like lead. The last thing he saw was Iago's smile. The last word he tried to say was “Vashti.”

* * *

By the time night fell, Vashti was frantic with worry. There was no sign of Jethro anywhere and she had scoured every inch of the castle twice over, enlisting help from Aydan.

She told him of her conversation with Rina. “She was adamant the challenger is not here on Avalon. I suppose she should know.”

“Did she say what happened to him after he left King Ivo's castle?”

“She was vague about that,” Vashti admitted. “Just that she took him to a place of safety. Then she became tearful and incoherent. She was scared she'd said too much and Morgan would learn of it and punish her. I wanted to find Jethro and tell him what I knew. I intend to question her more tomorrow.”

They were close to Vashti's room when Ilsa appeared. She looked surprised to see Vashti there. “My lady, the hour of the banquet approaches.”

Vashti's lips opened but Aydan—perhaps sensing where she was about to confine Ilsa, the banquet and the whole of Avalon—stepped in diplomatically before she could speak. “Princess Vashti will join you now.”

Ilsa nodded and went along to Vashti's room. “Look, wherever Jethro is, I'm sure he'll turn up at the banquet. We can talk to him there.”

“You're right. It's this place. It makes you fear the worst.” Giving him a grateful smile, she made her way along to her room.

Ilsa was full of important news. “The largest guest suite has been prepared for a new arrival. I have been told an important visitor arrives tonight.”

“Is it Morgan le Fay?”

Ilsa cast that familiar, furtive glance over her shoulder. “She is not a visitor.”

“Who is it, then?”

“I don't know. I think it is a man.”

“It must be hell living in a place where everything is a secret,” Vashti remarked as Ilsa poured water into a very un-medieval-looking bubble bath.

“What do you mean?”

Shaking her head, Vashti waved Ilsa away. They had engaged in a lengthy dispute about whether it was proper for Vashti to dispense with the services of a maid during her bath. Eventually, it had been decided that—proper or not—Vashti was going to bathe on her own. “Decided” was probably the wrong word. It implied a democratic process that had been conspicuously absent.
Morgan is not the only one who can go around decreeing things
, Vashti thought as she sank back into the scented water.
In spite of recent events, I can still remember how to be regal when I want to.
She had pulled rank and insisted on being left alone. Ilsa had clearly regarded this desire for privacy as bizarre and left the room muttering under her breath. Sighing with relief, Vashti sank further down under the mass of bubbles, closing her eyes with a sigh. It would have been too much to say she was enjoying its scented warmth—how could she possibly enjoy anything when she was on
Avalon
?—but a few minutes' quiet reflection would be welcome.

It didn't happen.

“What have you been doing to make that girl regard you as an eccentric?” The voice was cool, amused and unmistakable.

Vashti opened one eye.
An important guest. A man.
Since this place was a nightmare that only got worse by the hour, she should have already guessed his identity. Thank goodness for the bubbles. “You may be my father, but you never paid any attention to my bath time when I was a child. Why would you imagine I might feel comfortable with the arrangement now?”

Moncoya waved a dismissive hand. “I may be depraved, but you can acquit me of any unnatural designs upon you, my daughter.”

“I do. I would feel a whole lot more comfortable if you pulled that screen over here and stayed on the other side of it.”

Moncoya sighed but did as she asked. “You must have inherited these puritanical tendencies from your mother,” he remarked from the other side of the dressing screen as Vashti hurriedly finished her bath. “I certainly did not raise you to be prudish.”

Tying a full-length robe tightly around her body, Vashti emerged from behind the screen. Her father had elevated his already stunning good looks into an art form. His shoulder-length, signature mane of tousled, morning-after hair, was highlighted in shades ranging from honey-gold to caramel. The diamond studs in his ears reflected the firelight. His expertly manicured nails were painted with black polish. His eyes—so like Vashti's own—were bluer than a summer evening, the irises edged with gold as if encircled by fire. Moncoya, not content with perfection, drew further attention to his eyes by encircling them with blue eyeliner.

Vashti had heard Cal and Lorcan joke about her father's fixation with his wardrobe and makeup, yet Moncoya in the flesh was devastating. She knew, of course, that his sexual prowess was legendary. It was impossible to live in the same palace—the same world—as him and avoid the rumors. The nail polish and eyeliner clearly did nothing to detract from his potency.