Blackbird Crowned (The Witch King's Crown #3) - Keri Arthur Page 0,38

touching.”

I couldn’t help grinning. “And I for one cannot wait to discover how much more fun sex will be with said connection.”

“Concentrate, dear Gwen.” His voice was dry. “Sex is still a very long way off in our future.”

“Yes, but that won’t stop me anticipating. Set me down.”

He did. I rose onto my toes and reached for the shield. While my fingers barely brushed the base, its response was immediate and fierce. Light burst from the rose in several quick pulses and shot across the water. I swung around to see what the moon-colored beams would highlight. At first, there was nothing. Then, from deep in the heart of old Ainslyn, came a responding flash.

“Any idea where that’s coming from?” Luc asked.

I hesitated, eyes narrowing. “Hard to be sure at night, but if it’s not the King’s Tower, then it’s close to.”

The King’s Tower was the only intact remnant of Uhtric’s castle and, to most, was little more than a tourist attraction and museum. It did, however, hold a whole lot of witch history—and weapons, apparently, though I hadn’t yet seen them—in secret vaults well protected from the museum staff and accidental discovery, by multiple layers of spells.

“There’s nothing left in the castle that could be responding,” he said. “Very few true artifacts remain there these days.”

Not even Uhtric’s throne. The Blackbirds had taken it for safekeeping after a dark elf had tried to destroy it. There were still a number of other personal and furniture items from the reigns of the other witch kings, however. “Mo might know a bit more.”

“To point out the obvious, she’s not here.”

“No, but she’ll probably be on her way back by now.” If Mia had proven to be wraith free, that was.

I crossed mental fingers that she was and returned my attention to the shield. After a moment, I shifted my grip and then lightly tugged. The thing dropped so suddenly, I squeaked in surprise and jumped straight back into Luc. He steadied me with one hand and grabbed the shield with the other.

“It’s surprisingly light,” he said, studying it through narrowed eyes.

I ran my fingers along the top edge. No new moonbeams appeared, though the pulse of red light continued to run around the cross. “It feels like ice.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “There’s a Norse myth involving a shield called Svalinn that’s icy to the touch. It was supposedly used by the gods to stand between the chariot of the sun and the earth to prevent the latter from being set on fire.”

“Viking shields were made of wood, not metal.”

“Yes, but if an old goddess can make a sword for a king, why can’t an old god make a shield? Or are you being sexist?”

I smiled. “If this shield is even older than Elysian, why on earth is it responding to me?”

“I think you’ll find the key is the aforementioned ‘old gods.’ Maybe they decided to repurpose the thing.” He handed me the shield and then scooped me up again. “I know this is a stupid question, but do you want to head home or investigate the light?”

I smiled in answer and he shook his head. “You’re as insane as she is.”

She being Mo, obviously. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Not surprising, given she probably would.”

I laughed. “Actually, we can’t head directly over, as much as I want to. Mo said she’d meet us at The Red Lion if she wasn’t able to make it back in time for the fight. I think we should wait for her before we do anything—especially given she’s familiar with all the spells in that place and neither of us are.”

“That’s actually a good idea, as I think we could both do with a shower and something to eat.”

The only thing I really wanted to eat right now was him, and that was currently out of the question. Nevertheless, enticing images rose.

He cleared his throat. “Um, can you stop that? I don’t need to be distracted when we’re on this stupid bridge.”

I laughed, banished the imagery, and once again rested my head against his chest. Though the shield’s handgrip was warm to the touch, cold magic continued to emanate from the steel. It had a very different feel to either Elysian or my knives, which in many respects confirmed that someone other than Vivienne had been involved in its forging. I doubted it was the Norse god Luc had mentioned, if only because the magic rolling off it didn’t feel “godly” in the same sort