Chapter 5
The mists of Avalon were no myth.
The magical shield stretched for miles around the island, keeping it hidden from human eyes and protecting it from the intrusion of demons.
No one was allowed on the island unless they had been invited by the queen. And those foolish enough to try to slip past her barriers swiftly learned a lesson in displeasing Morgana le Fay. A lesson that few ever repeated.
Mostly because they were dead.
On this day the mists were a dark, threatening gray, reflecting the mood of Morgana as she paced the velvet carpet of her throne room.
It was a chokingly impressive room with a glass rotunda and delicate tapestries on the wall that would make a human craftsman cry with envy. Just below the rotunda was a round dais with a golden throne. And on each side of the throne stood two male fairies.
They were…perfect.
Perfectly matched with long blond hair that fell to their waists and features carved by the hands of an angel. Perfectly na**d, to reveal their muscular forms. Perfectly trained not to reveal the least emotion without permission.
Perfectly perfect.
Morgana demanded no less.
Not that she bothered to glance in their direction. Instead she continued her pacing, the sheer white gown fluttering around her tall, slender body and her magnificent mane of red curls shimmering in the candlelight. It was not until she sensed the approaching fairy that she forced herself to return to her throne and take her seat.
She appeared calmly composed, her lovely features unreadable and her green eyes shielded by the tangled lace of her lashes. Her expression didn’t change as the tall, unusually brawny man with curly black hair and blue eyes entered the chambers.
He was a stunning creature. And a magnificent lover.
A pity he had proven a disappointment.
Watching in silence she waited for the fairy to fall to his knees at her feet and press his head to the carpet.
“You sent for me, Your Majesty?”
She ignored the voice he had trained to send shivers down her spine. Her long nails, painted a deep shade of crimson, tapped on the gilt arm of her chair.
“Have you been avoiding me, Landes?” she demanded softly.
His head lifted to regard her with a wary gaze. “No, I ache to be bathed in your beauty. I tremble with the need to worship at your feet.”
“Pretty, but not what I want to hear.” She leaned forward. “Don’t you remember, my sweet, that I was to be told the moment you made contact with Sybil?”
He paled beneath her unwavering gaze. “Y…yes.”
“Then why have you kept me waiting?”
“There have been difficulties, my Queen.”
Morgana resisted the urge to kick the man in the face. Damn the fool. She didn’t want his pathetic excuses. She wanted results.
“What could possibly be difficult in such a simple task?” she demanded, the mist above the rotunda swirling in the gathering storm.
Landes cast a nervous glance upward before swallowing a lump in his throat.
“Sybil has not responded to my summons.”
“You opened a portal?”
“Of course, Your Majesty, but there is something that is blocking my efforts.”