Page 37 of Kings and Monsters

Rosa's ears popped as she stepped into the doorway of the circular structure. Merlin and Arthur stumbled behind her when the magic allowed them through.

"Well done, Rhosyn," Merlin said, lifting his torch. It was a single overgrown room, with faded murals depicting battle scenes covering the walls and at the center of the painting, the Lord of the Dead himself. Rosa reached out and brushed the dust away from the horned helm, and she shuddered with longing and memory.

As the memory took hold of her, she could taste the lightning and salt spray in the air. A huge figure of shadows sat astride a black faerie mount. Rosa could smell forest and earth and metal-tinged ozone coming from them. Dormach, more wolf than dog, sniffed her with a slight growl.

Why have you summoned the great Lord of the Dead?A voice as deep as the earth and as silky as night brushed against her mind.

Merlin grabbed Rosa's shoulders, pulling her back from the wall and out of the memory.

"Focus," he warned, his golden eyes flashing. "That is what we are looking for."

It was covered in cobwebs and ivy, but a large, curved bell hung in an archway. They stepped over the roots and rot covering the paving stones to an old rope.

"Are we just meant to ring it?" Arthur whispered. "No special ritual words or anything."

"That's what Eirianwen said."

Rosa bit her lip and stared at the bell. "Are you sure this is going to be a good idea? I mean it seems very stupid now we are here. Maybe we should just leave Gwyn alone."

"No going back." Merlin reached for the rope. "So now is probably a good time to tell you that Gwyn may have a bounty on my head from a few centuries ago."

"What? Wait!" Both Arthur and Rosa shouted at once.

Merlin laughed maniacally. "Excellent! Let's do it." And he pulled the bell rope as hard as he could.

A deep tolling resounded through the temple, pulsing out into the forest around them in a shock wave.

Rosa gripped Arthur's arm, and the ground shuddered. She screamed as it gave way beneath them, and they tumbled down under the earth. Her hands stopped flailing when she recognized the sensation of a fae portal. It felt like only seconds before the ground spat them out.

"God, I hate you, Merlin," Rosa muttered and risked opening her eyes.

"I got us here, didn't I?" he heaved with rasping laughter.

"I think I have a broken rib," Arthur complained.

They were in a ring of stones, a storm raging over them, pelting the ground with rain and lightning burning fire across the sky. Rosa climbed to her feet, and that was when she saw the sheen of eyes. In the gaps between the tall stones stood fae warriors watching them silently.

"Get your asses up," Rosa whispered tersely. Her hand went to her sword when the warriors parted, clearing a space.

A hulking black hound as tall as she was and solid as a bear, trotted forward, its nose scenting the air as it came towards them.Dormach.

The blood rushed from her head as a huge figure made of shadows rode forward through the darkness, the horns on his helm curved white death. The creeping, alluring dread of his presence touched her as pale silver eyes glowed above a slash of a cruel smile.

"Rosamund Wylt," a voice emanated from the helm, as old and strong as mountains. "You have grown."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Bleddyn paced the halls of the palace, brooding and angry. He hadn't slept, and it seemed unlikely that he would. He had wanted to stop Merlin and Rosa from leaving because he hated the idea of being alone, shut up in an empty palace full of ghosts with only his thoughts for company.

There was much he had missed about the Aos Si, but being back meant that a flood of memories, long suppressed, were constantly bombarding him.

He longed for Balthasar's cool presence in the War Councils and the way they tempered each other's personalities. He and Merlin had always brought out the very best and worst in each other, in equal parts competitive and supportive. Balthasar was the son that calmed him. Bleddyn missed having that comfort of knowing that someone had his back without question or price involved. He had forgotten how petty and spiteful the fae could be. He didn't have the patience for politics and intrigues.

He should've kissed Eirianwen in the gardens, damned the consequences.

Bleddyn had been so surprised by her warm hands against his face that he hadn't given any thought to what it could mean. They had always been like charged magnets from the day theyhad met. With a tender touch, she had shattered his shields and woken a beast that had peacefully slumbered for centuries.

His magic was itchy under his skin, mind tangled with everything and nothing. He wanted to get drunk. He wanted to kill something. He wanted to go to Eirianwen's mansion and command that she never touch him again. He wanted to forbid her from having secret meetings with Merlin. His want and desire was a thing with claws that raked at him.

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