Hunting Ground (Alpha & Omega #2)(77)

Arthur looked at him as though he was stupid. "Because I am he, of course. King Arthur. It is my destiny to be the high king."

Madness indeed, thought Charles

"But my father didn't come."

"No," agreed Arthur. "Fate is an odd thing. Do you know just who Dana is?"

"Obviously you are going to tell me," said Charles dryly.

"I wonder if your father does. This is what I mean by fate-that I who was Arthur would find Nimue, the Lady of the Lake, here. I knew a couple of decades ago that she was here in Seattle -the first time I saw her, in fact. I knew that there would come a time that it was important-so I bought Sunny this house."

Obviously, Charles thought, it wasn't going to be hard to keep Arthur monologuing.

Arthur's smile turned sly. "I didn't find Excalibur in an archaeological dig-though that's what I was doing at the time. At Cambridge I made friends with a boy whose family was old Cornish gentry. He invited me home for Christmas. I discovered that they'd been guarding a treasure for so many generations that they'd forgotten all about it. It took me to find it again. It was hidden under the flagstone in the carriage house. A sword in the stone-so to speak." He laughed at his own cleverness.

"The boy's older sister looked enough like Dana to be her twin." With his free hand, he rubbed his thumb over his first two fingers. "A little research, and insight becomes knowledge. So I knew when I saw Dana I had the perfect thing to bribe her with." He swung the sword gently. "She had no idea it wasn't resting beneath the stone where she'd placed it until I showed it to her-a photograph. I am not stupid."

"I could disagree with you on that," Charles said. "You've done a number of stupid things that I can pick out. But trying to get the best of a Gray Lord is the stupidest by far. You never had any intention of giving her the sword."

Arthur bobbed his head-a polite agreement. "The first deal would have been honest. Excalibur isn't the only thing I discovered there. I had other weapons, you know. I offered her the dagger. She refused-and made it clear she would hunt me 'to the ends of the earth,' I believe. I know her, you see, but she doesn't know me. Doesn't believe I am Arthur."

Charles knew which Arthur he was talking about.

"But my father didn't come."

"No, you did. And you brought her with you."

"Her?"

"Gwenevere. My white lady."

And then Arthur proved that he wasn't as stupid as Charles had started to believe. Because without telegraphing his move by so much as a breath, while Charles was still absorbing the idea that Arthur wanted Anna because he thought she was his, Arthur struck.

The sword in his stomach didn't hurt, just robbed Charles of his strength. Of his ability to move.

He heard Anna cry out, but his attention was on the icy cold that was sucking him down.

As his legs collapsed, Arthur followed him down. "A swift fight," Arthur said, "is the best kind of fight. I know you. When your father didn't come, I was so disappointed. But when I saw her... saw my Gwenevere, I knew." He grimaced. "She was mine, and you had her, just like before. I could have killed you cleanly, you know. But I want you to suffer. Lancelot."

"There was no Lancelot, fool."

For a moment Charles thought that he'd said those words, he'd thought them so hard. But the voice was a woman's.

Dana.

Arthur jerked the sword free and stumbled back until he regained his feet. As soon as the steel left his body, the coldness dissipated. Charles put a hand to his belly to staunch the bleeding. It hadn't gone all the way through-Arthur had wanted him to suffer-so if he could keep from bleeding to death, Brother Wolf could heal them. The wound was small enough to heal fast.

Sharp steel, Brother Wolf told him, cuts swiftest, hurts least, heals soonest.

Charles gave the pack magic a little tug and received a bounty in return. He wasn't the Alpha, but his father could grant him help if he chose. And Bran was a generous leader. Pain faded. No need to advertise that he was not dying, though. Not yet. He stayed collapsed, out of the way. Don't pay attention to me, I'm not a threat. Charles could become less noticeable if he had to, though not as well as Bran-his da had the technique perfected. It is easier to go unnoticed, Bran liked to say, when everyone is focused on something else.

"Give me the sword," she said.

"She is my sword," Arthur said, taking a tighter grip and pulling the point up into a guard position. "Mine from the first. She came to my hand from yours-and when I died, it was not I who gave her back."

Dana moved into Charles's view. She'd dropped the glamour-or adopted a new one. It wasn't so much that she changed anything, but she had become more. And Anna was right, she was riveting. Good. Keep Arthur's attention.

Charles moved his hand, and when blood didn't pour out, moved his shirt and looked at the scab. Too fresh to move yet, but soon.

"You stole it," Dana said, her voice low and fierce. "It is not yours. Was never yours. The King may indeed come again-it was foretold so. But that is not you. Has never been you. You are not Arthur."

"You are not meant to know me," Arthur told her. "And we are quit of our bargain. Chastel didn't kill Charles, as you promised. And when Charles defeated the Frenchman-you were unable to find another way to kill him, to kill Charles. You failed. I owe you nothing."