Master of Wolves by Master Of Wolves

Author:Master Of Wolves [Wolves, Master Of]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-01-16T17:19:24.149000+00:00

Gwen gathered this particular child had some kind of religious significance to them. Given al that, it was really no surprise that Llyr and his guards were so protective of her.

Unfortunately, the bodyguards' icy paranoia was bringing out the worst in the Magekind knights. Even Arthur was unusual y tense.

"I don't know about you," Gwen murmured to her hostess, "but I'm starting to get testosterone burns."

Diana chuckled, the sound rich and throaty. "They are laying it on a little thick, aren't they?"

She sat back in her seat, toying absently with her golden fork. "Ansgar may be dead, but I'm afraid Llyr and his people are going to carry the psychic scars for a while. I keep telling them I'm more than capable of defending myself, but it doesn't seem to reassure them."

"I'm curious." Gwen leaned her elbow on the arm of her chair. "Just exactly how would you defend yourself?"

Diana smiled wickedly. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to eat you."

Gwen blinked. Somehow she had the definite feeling Diana hadn't mangled that particular idiom by accident.

Maybe she was Dragonkind.

Wel , Llyr had wanted a queen who could take care of herself. A shape-shifting dragon would definitely qualify.

The lighting dimmed. Gwen looked up automatically, only to see the ceiling darken overhead. As she watched, the elegant white marble melted into blood-red stone.

Gwen frowned. "What the… Diana, do you see…" She turned to her hostess only to realize she, too, had melted away, along with Arthur and the rest of the dinner guests.

Instead, everywhere Gwen looked, there was blood-red stone, supported by massive black columns. A vision, she realized belatedly. I'm having a vision.

But of what? Where was she?

Wherever it was, it wasn't good. The sense of evil that surrounded her was almost choking.

And it was even stronger off to the left.

Driven by a compulsion she didn't even attempt to analyze, Gwen followed the intensifying sense of menace. Passing one of the columns, she absently glanced at it. Figures were worked into its gleaming black surface—men and women, some writhing in sexual congress, others attacking one another with swords or knives.

Repulsed, Gwen veered away from the column and kept walking. Rounding a corner, she saw a complement of heavily armed men and women standing guard over a doorway. Still driven by an inexplicable compulsion, she moved toward the group, her insubstantial body passing through their armored forms like smoke.

Looking through the doorway, she saw a cup sitting on a blood-red pedestal. Made of solid gold, the goblet was heavily engraved in writhing figures.

It was one of the Black Grails. It couldn't be anything else.

Diana Galatyn took a sip of her Sidhe wine and turned to address another remark to Gwen.

The delicate, ageless blonde sat next to her in an elaborate court gown that shimmered with magic, its blue silk a perfect complement for her pale hair.

Except… breathing in, Diana caught scent of the smell of rot so intense, she almost gagged. What the hell?

"Guinevere?" Blinking, she gazed into her guest's pretty face.

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