Blackbird Crowned (The Witch King's Crown #3) - Keri Arthur Page 0,81
wrong, at least in this particular case. The orb spun through the middle of England, bypassing distant London and its plumes of smoke, and continuing on.
To Winchester.
The ancient seat of both the witch kings and the Blackbirds, and a location that still held many ancient documents and artifacts.
Winter had come here looking for information to clarify whether the statements I’d made to Max were true.
The orb shot across the cathedral’s imposing spires and then descended. The still-impressive ruins of the Witch King’s Winchester castle came into view, but the orb didn’t stop there, instead swooping across the roof of the nearby great hall and residence before flying into the canopy of the nearby evergreen oak. Mo and I landed on a thicker branch close to the grand old tree’s trunk but didn’t immediately shift shape. Two birds in a tree weren’t going to be noticed by many. Two women perched in said tree certainly would.
The orb hovered a few inches above the end of our branch, its pulse slow and steady. My gaze went to the building. While we were too far away to read the small information plaque situated where the path split into two—one going on to the residence, the other the ruins—I presumed either the residence or the hall was being used by the Blackbirds. Maybe even both.
The three-story residence beyond the fork was much newer than the great hall, and highly—almost outrageously—decorated. There were no protection spells evident, but I had no doubt they’d be present.
If Winter was inside searching for information, then the Blackbirds had at least one more traitor in their midst. He surely wouldn’t have gotten inside otherwise—not when he was all too obviously a half-blood.
Time ticked by without Winter making an appearance. If not for the orb’s gentle pulsing, I’d have wondered if he’d somehow eluded us.
After what felt like forever, the residence’s rather grand rear door opened, and an all-too-familiar figure stepped out. Hatred and anger surged, and I shifted from one foot to the other, desperately fighting the urge to swoop down and kill the bastard. The whole idea of this expedition was to remain anonymous, and that would hardly be the case if I gave in to anger. Even if I swooped in from behind, he’d know I was there the moment I hit the ground in human form.
He didn’t take the path toward our tree, but rather the fork that led to the old gates dividing the hall and residence from the castle ruins. There were several scrolls tucked under his arm, suggesting he’d found whatever information he’d come here for.
I wished I knew what that was. It surely couldn’t be about Elysian—not after such a relatively short search, especially when the Blackbirds hadn’t been able to uncover anything about either the sword in the stone or Elysian.
As he disappeared through the gate and started across a grassed inner court, Mo dropped to the ground, shifted shape, and then pressed her hand into the grass. My gaze shot back to Winter. He was now walking along to one of the remaining walls, obviously heading toward the gatehouse. His phone rang sharply, the sound loud in the peaceful stillness of this place. He shifted the scrolls, pulled out his phone, and kept walking.
As he did, Mo murmured a command. Fingers of energy shot from underneath her hand and silently rolled toward the castle’s remains. They crawled up the wall and surrounded a massive stone at the top. Then, just as Winter stepped under that section, sent it crashing to the ground.
He wouldn’t have known what had hit him. The force of the stone’s fall was so great, half of it ended up buried deep into the ground. The orb flickered and then disintegrated, a sure sign that the life it had been designed to find had been extinguished.
Mo rose and brushed her hands together to clear them of dirt. “One down, two to go.”
I dropped to the ground and became human. “I take it you felt the presence of the others when you set the tracker on this one?”
She nodded. “They’re clones, so their echoes came through. One is in London, and I suspect the other disappeared through the Ainslyn Gateway, because the pulse cut off abruptly.”
“Meaning he’s probably up to no good.” I glanced toward the old gates. “Is it worth checking if there’s anything remaining of the scrolls this one was carrying?”
“I’d rather not disturb his remains. Besides, there’s little point, given whatever information he found would