Blackbird Broken (The Witch King's Crown #2) - Keri Arthur Page 0,61
“How do you plan to deal with him?”
“I honestly don’t know.” I ran my fingers through my tangled hair. “I daresay Mo has ideas, but right now, she’s with Barney taking pictures of the writing on the King’s Stone. They’re going to attempt to transcribe it.”
“That inscription is just another piece of information lost to time and mismanagement,” he muttered. “It’s very frustrating.”
It was. “Did Ricker find the translation scroll in the Glastonbury archives?”
He nodded. “I’ll be meeting—”
“We’ll be meeting.”
“—him in London this afternoon. And I’ll have to clear your entry into our headquarters with the rest of my order before I take you anywhere near it.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I knew your lot were old-fashioned, but surely the men’s-only club thing went out with the dark ages?”
A smile teased his lips. “Far from it—and there are plenty of them in London to prove it. But in our case, it’s not just women but anyone unrelated to the order—for safety reasons.”
“That I can understand.” Especially at the moment. “But I’d really like to transcribe the list we found at the church after they blew it up, and to do that, I need to see the scroll.”
“I take it you took photographs of the notes?”
I nodded. “What time do you have to meet Ricker?”
He glanced at his watch. “At five. It’s just gone ten now, so we’ve plenty of time to grab breakfast and get ready.”
“Well, then, if you don’t want to be flashed—”
“Just to be clear here, I can think of nothing I’d rather be doing than watching you parade around naked.” A wicked twinkle entered his eyes. “Well, maybe one or two things. I also have no doubt that I might yet end up regretting my bargain.”
“Well, I’m quite willing to break it—but only if you jump into this bed right now and we have hot monkey sex for the next ten hours.”
He laughed and pushed out of the chair. “As much as I love that idea, I think we’d better stick to the deal. Distractions can be deadly, especially when you think you’re safe.”
I’d expected no other answer, but nevertheless felt a twinge of disappointment. “Then you’d best go ring your people and get my clearance. I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast.”
He shoved his big feet into his boots and then headed out. I sighed and crawled to the end of the bed to grab my phone out of the pack.
Mo answered on the second ring. “Well, I hope your evening was a whole lot simpler than mine.”
Just for an instant, fear surged. Which was ridiculous, given she was on the other end of the phone and obviously quite okay. “With Gianna and Reign?”
“No, the changeover went fine. Ron and Gianna connected instantly, which is a blessing. I suspected she might have been plotting escape routes up until then.”
“It’s possible she still is.”
“She’s not—Ron checked before they left. I did place a nebulous obedience spell on her, just to ensure she didn’t change her mind, though.”
Which was probably a good idea, given what I’d seen of Gianna. “So what else happened?”
“It seems either Darkside or your brother had the same idea we did. Thankfully, we got there sooner and were able to take some photographs before the bastards attacked.”
“You and Barney obviously weren’t hurt.”
“Barney got some ricochet shrapnel in his butt, but he’s fine after my tender ministrations overnight.”
And not just healing ministrations, I suspected. At least someone in our little family unit was getting some. “Do you think they would have destroyed the King’s Stone if given the chance?”
“Very likely, as I don’t think they’re aware the sword they have might not be the true king’s sword.”
“Which is all the more reason for them to keep it, surely? Besides, it’s basically just a stone sheath—it holds no power in and of itself.”
“If it held no power, any Tom, Dick, or Harriet with enough strength would have been able to pull the sword free. Magic held it in place.”
“But not enough, given we De Montforts have had to protect the sword for centuries. I take it you’ve now protected the stone?”
“I’ve reinforced the blessing. That should hold them off for the moment.”
I grunted. “Would there be anything in the archives—in the diaries from our ancestors, perhaps—that mentions what the inscription says? It can’t have always been illegible.”
“It’s possible, but let’s see if our photographs can be enhanced first. What are you and Luc up to today?”
“His cousin is meeting us in London with the translating scroll. We’re going