Blackbird Broken (The Witch King's Crown #2) - Keri Arthur Page 0,97
happening, and that’s not about to change anytime soon.”
“I know, but—”
“In dark times, we all need people we can absolutely depend on and trust,” she cut in. “You’ll need those two before this is all over, trust me on that.”
I looked around at her. “What have you seen? What else did Mryddin say?”
“I’ve had no visions, if that’s what you’re worried about. As for Mryddin—he spent half the time admonishing me for both forgetting so much and for losing track of vital items even though he’s the one who failed to pass on vital information. He really is a cranky old bastard.”
A smile twitched my lips, despite knowing she’d half avoided my question. “Did he say anything else useful? Or offer to help us?”
“He’ll help, but it’s going to take him a while to dismantle all his protections. He’ll be there for the final battle, if necessary, but I’m not counting on him for support until then.”
“I’m really hoping it doesn’t get to the final battle,” Luc said. “I’m not sure any of us are prepared for it.”
“No one ever is,” Mo said. “Aldred certainly wasn’t, and that’s probably what cost him his life.”
“I thought using Elysian killed him?” I said.
“It did, because he wasn’t prepared for the cost. Because he battled the sword rather than becoming one with it. Remember that, when the time comes.”
“Which,” Luc said, with a slight edge, “brings me back to something Vivienne said—what did she mean when she said Gwen’s fate was tied to the sword?”
“Technically, she said Gwenhwyfar—”
“No games, Mo,” he cut in. “I need to know what the hell is going on.”
“But are you ready to actually hear it?” she bit back. “I don’t believe so.”
“Tell me,” he said, that edge stronger.
Mo sighed. “Fine. I don’t believe Max is the true heir. I believe Gwen is.”
He didn’t immediately snort in disbelief, even if I felt the wave of it. “No woman has ever drawn the sword.”
“Which doesn’t mean no woman ever will.”
Luc flashed her a glance over his shoulder. “Max drew the replica—surely that’s proof of his claim, given only the true heir has ever drawn it.”
“The sword reacted to Gwen, remember, and at a time when there were still other heirs alive.”
“Reacting is not proof.”
“True enough,” Mo said. “But you also have the words of the goddess herself—destiny and blood have converged in the current timeline.”
He made a deep sound that sounded like a growl. “I cannot believe—”
“Cannot?” Mo cut in. “Or will not?”
His expression was an interesting mix of disbelief and anger. “Surely if the goddess had intended the sword to be borne by either sex, there would have been some indication of it before now.”
Mo snorted. “That simply shows your ignorance when it comes to goddesses.”
“We have a record of what she said when she gave the sword to Aldred. There was no mention of the sword being borne by a woman.”
“There was no mention of it being borne only by men, either,” she said. “I was there, Luc. She decreed, ‘The sword can be raised in times of great darkness by those who bear Aquitaine blood and who hold the crown by right.’ She didn’t ever say it was restricted to the males of that line. That’s merely a presumption on the part of men who were never there, but nevertheless documented it.”
He was silent for several moments. I had a suspicion it was at least partially caused by the realization just how old Mo actually was. “That’s why you asked me to give the coronation ring to Gwen, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I wanted to see if it reacted. When it didn’t, I suspected it was fake.”
“Most people would think that a bit of a leap.”
“Most people haven’t been alive as long as me. My memory might not be as good as it once was, but my hunches are rarely wrong.”
“What made you suspect I was the heir?” I asked. “You never really said.”
“The sword reacting to you was the beginning of it, but it was the deepening of your connection to Nex and Vita afterward that all but confirmed it.”
I frowned. “Why? The fake sword isn’t connected to Elysian or the goddess—it wasn’t even created in the same forge.”
But even as I said that, I remembered the storm-kissed energy that had risen when I’d crisped the Aranea sent to kill Gianna. It had felt very similar to the energy that had caressed my hand when I’d gripped the king’s sword. It might not be the real thing, but