Blackbird Crowned (The Witch King's Crown #3) - Keri Arthur Page 0,77

enough,” Mo said. “Had I been a few hundred years younger and you, my dear Blackbird, unattached, it might have been a very different matter.”

“A compliment indeed,” he said gravely.

“Which is a polite way of saying thanks, but no thanks,” she said, with a laugh. “You Blackbirds are always so damn polite.”

“Not always,” he said, amused. “And certainly not when it comes to women—as was noted before.”

She harrumphed and climbed to her feet. “I expect breakfast to be ready for us in the morning in compensation, then.”

“That I can do.”

I walked around the sofa, blew him a kiss, and then headed up the stairs. Mo followed and disappeared into the smaller bedroom. I stripped off, tucked my knives under my pillow, and then climbed into bed.

I kept Elysian on. Just in case.

It was close to seven when I went down the following morning. Luc was at the stove, frying up enough bacon and eggs to feed an army. There was also a stack of toast waiting on the bench, along with butter and various condiments sitting nearby.

“There are only three of us, you know.” I dropped a kiss on his cheek, then snagged a slice of toast and slathered it with butter.

“And at least two of us have very healthy appetites.”

“Make that three,” Mo said as she appeared. “Especially if we’re not talking about food.”

“We are,” I said dryly. “Mind out of the gutter and all that.”

“Ha. When you get to my age, you’ve won the right to do and say what you want.”

A point I couldn’t argue with. “Has anyone had an update on the situation in London?”

Luc nodded. “The palace is holding, but London is burning.”

“How badly?”

“Westminster is the worst hit.”

No surprise, given Westminster was where both the House of Lords and the House of Commons were.

“Many casualties?”

“Hundreds, from what’s been said on the news, but there’s not that much getting out. Greater London has been entirely locked down in an effort to contain the bastards.”

“I hope it works.”

“It should,” Mo said. “It has before.”

“It still feels very wrong for us not to be there.” I held up a hand, stopping the comment Mo was undoubtedly about to make. “And yes, I understand and agree with the reason, but that doesn’t alter the fact I think we should be there.”

Didn’t alter the certainty that our path would lead us there, and sooner rather than later.

Mo patted my arm, then perched on one of the stools. I did the same, then leaned on my arms and distracted myself by watching Luc. There was something very sexy about a man who knew his way around a kitchen. “Did you manage to get any sleep last night?”

“Some.”

There was a slight edge in his voice that had my eyebrows rising. “Was there a problem?”

“Something was sniffing around.”

“A demon something?” I asked, alarmed.

“Hecate was flickering, so yes. But the presence was distant, and it might just have been a juvenile out on its nightly hunt.”

“Did you go out and check?” Mo asked.

He shook his head. “Figured it might have been bait.”

“They couldn’t have known we were here.”

“Unless they placed a tracker on Gwen,” Luc said.

“There’s nothing magical—I would have seen that.”

“Which doesn’t discount the possibility of a regular old tracker.”

“They’re generally distance limited, though,” Mo said, nose wrinkling, “and it’s highly unlikely they would have found us so quickly, given they have no idea which direction we fled in.”

“Unlikely doesn’t mean impossible.” Luc motioned me to stand and then drew Hecate and walked around the kitchen counter. He ran the flat of her blade down my body, front and back, then grunted. “She’s not reacting, which means there’s nothing even remotely related to Darkside on you or embedded in your flesh.”

“Surely I’d feel it if something had been shoved into my skin?”

But even as I said that, I remembered the burrowing whisperers and shuddered. Maybe pain wasn’t all they’d intended or done.

“Depends on the size,” Luc said. “Trackers are miniscule these days.”

“Maybe we should check, then,” I said. “It might be safer.”

“After breakfast,” Mo said. “The sun’s risen, and we’re leaving this morning anyway.”

Luc immediately dished up the mountain of food and motioned us to help ourselves. “Did Jackie get anything out of Riona last night?”

Mo nodded. “She said there were no bad pictures on the gate they were taken to, just lots of thorns and angry faces.”

I grabbed a plate and loaded it up. Luc was right—I did indeed have a very healthy appetite, especially after last night’s efforts. “I didn’t think