He reached into the pack they'd brought, took out Keldwyn's pendant. The stone glowed amber and chocolate brown in the dim light from the garage.

Bringing it to her, he knelt at her feet, gave Kane a smile and pressed foreheads to him in playful affection as he let the baby touch the pendant. Then he placed it around Kane's neck. As he did, the cord glowed, a warmth that shone over Kane's fair cheeks a moment before the necklace became an imprint in the child's skin, like a permanent tattoo.

Jacob looked up at Lyssa. “Okay,” he said.

Despite his initial surprise, he didn't look as if her plan was too unexpected. And then she realized that was the other reason he'd summoned Gideon. Her servant had anticipated her, as he often did, and brought her potential reinforcements.

She glanced at Daegan Rei. Like the others, he was watching them curiously. While she didn't know exactly where his loyalties lay, she knew he'd been at odds with Council directives over the recent year, right before Mason stepped into his position on it.

She couldn't imagine Gideon bonding with someone who was dedicated to the current Council's objectives, so she took a chance there as well.

“Lord Daegan, I plan to go into the Council meeting directly opposed to their plans. But I have a proposal for them that I think will be better for us all.

Though I do not command your loyalties, would you be will ing to attend the Council meeting with us and stand at my back, against them as necessary?” The powerful vampire studied her. “I don't play politics, Lady Lyssa.”

She inclined her head. “I believe you support the vision of Council that I have always had. But I can't stand against you, nor would I. However, if I speak of my plan tonight and you oppose it, enough to inform the Council, then—”

Daegan lifted a hand. “With respect, please let me finish, Lady Lyssa. We are not a democracy, nor even a republic. Council is an oligarchy. However, any governing body making critical, frequent mistakes, the way this Council is, is creating an environment for change. Out of all the vampires I have met through the centuries, I trust your motives as a leader in that regard more than any other.” He gave her a bow. “You have my services and guidance, however you may need them.”

“Does this mean I get to use explosives again?” Gideon asked.

“Only if we shove them up your ass first,” Jacob noted.

“Nice. That's brotherly love for you.” Kane put his mouth to Lyssa's breast, trying to gnaw through the fabric. Holding him close, she nodded to the others.

“I'm going to retire for a while, but later tonight we'l meet and discuss my proposal.”

As she received polite acknowledgments from the others, Jacob caressed her shoulder, putting a kiss on Kane's waving fist as he met her green eyes. “I'l be right down.”

You are going to tell Gideon about your parents.

Yes. And the other thing.

Her eyes warmed on him, though her hand tightened on his an extra moment as if a concern lay behind it. But whatever the concern was, she didn't voice it. “Take your time,” she murmured. “But don't be long.”

Jacob smiled at the conflicting commands, typical of his lady. “Count on it.”

“Lady Lyssa.” Daegan stepped forward. “However you choose to approach the Council, I would appreciate it if Anwyn and Gideon could stay here while we're gone.”

“Of course, my lord. They are always welcome here, as are you.”

“As kind as that is”—Anwyn directed that polite tone toward Lyssa, though something else entirely entered her voice as she shifted her attention to Daegan—“we're going with you.”

“No, you're not,” he responded. “Do you remember your last visit to Council? We agreed on a low profile after that. Indefinitely.” Gideon shifted to that aggressive stance Jacob knew all too well. “This Council meeting isn't going to be about us, so it's a different situation. And I'm not letting my brother and my nephew go into it without my help.”

“So you are fine with Anwyn deciding to go into a dangerous situation if it suits your own purposes?”

“Don't do that,” Anwyn snapped. She moved shoulder to shoulder with Gideon. “You know how it pisses me off when either one of you uses me as a pawn to get your way. Why don't we hear Lady Lyssa's plan tonight and then decide?”

“Fine.” Daegan inclined his head. “We will hear it, and then I will decide. I'm going to check the perimeter.”

As he strode away, the vampire cal ed over his shoulder without turning. “Gideon, I can see it in your mind when you make a gesture like that.”

“Good. I'd hate for you to miss it.” Gideon glanced at Jacob. “What the hell are you grinning at?” Lyssa was moving toward the house, Ingram accompanying her. While Jacob couldn't think of anything more appealing than curling around his lady and Kane while they slept, and catching a few hours himself, he wanted to take a moment with Gideon.

He needed to do that.

Gideon sobered, picking up on the change in Jacob's demeanor. “Everything okay, bro?” His throat suddenly thick, Jacob nodded. He gripped his brother's shoulder, tightening his grasp there in a sudden surge of emotion. “Yeah. Let's go see if Ingram has beer in the fridge. I have to tel you some things about where we've been. Who we saw.” Clearing his throat, Jacob added, “Kelpies are real, Gid. And that's not all. You're not going to believe where I went the day before we left.” Soon after Jacob and Cayden's sparring session, Catriona had arrived at the castle alone, indicating she wanted to show Jacob something, if he could be spared for a couple hours.

Lyssa was busy with Rhoswen, but regardless, Catriona said this was for Jacob's eyes alone. While he rode one of the white chargers the Queen's Guard favored, the dryad chose to fly in low formation next to him. However, after a time, she squatted on the horse's rump, her bare toes and a light hand on Jacob's shoulder balancing her. When they moved out of forest area, right toward a thick sworl of pink and golden mist col ecting across their intended path, her grip tightened. “Just keep riding,” she said in that soft, breathy voice, a voice like musical chimes. “It's all right.”

Since the pitch blackness of the desert world had been his last experience with obscured visibility, he was somewhat wary. However, this was Catriona, and the horse didn't seem concerned. He moved straight into the fog. It was cool, damp on the skin, making it glisten with that same pink and gold shimmer. Catriona's breath was warm on Jacob's neck as she went to her knees behind him, leaning against his back, both hands on his shoulders now.

In several strides, the mist started to clear. He saw they were on the bank of a slow-moving river, the water deep midnight blue, with touches of green and the sparkle of the sun. On the other side of the river, within hailing distance, was an island. Lush green grass, fruit trees with wide canopies, white stone buildings. The setting reminded Jacob of the Spanish monastery where Thomas had trained him to be Lyssa's servant, only even more peaceful and untouched. Women in pale robes picked fruit in the orchards, dropping them into slings on their hips.

“Apples,” Catriona said. “So sweet. The priestesses send baskets of them over as an offering to Queen Rhoswen every season and she shares them with us all. Because of those trees, this is cal ed the Isle of Apples.”

Jacob swal owed. Something shifted beneath his very foundation. The world tilted. It couldn't be . . .

“Avalon.” The word came out hoarse. Catriona's hand tightened on him.

“Yes, Sir Knight. For that is also what your lady cal s you, does she not? She has favored Sir Vagabond, but Sir Knight is always what she means, no matter what she cal s you. Throughout the ages, no matter the century, there are men who represent the ideals of a knight. Nobility, loyalty, faithfulness, bravery, integrity . . . you cannot turn them from their path. And there is one spirit, one man they honor as the best of all of them, though some believe in his reality, and others only believe in what he symbolizes.”

Jacob got off the horse. Catriona used her wings to land next to him, her lyrical voice continuing.

“When he died, it is said his half sister, the sorceress, brought him to Avalon to live, until the day he returns again.”

Her hand slipped into his. Jacob gripped the slim fingers as two figures appeared, walking down the island beach. One was a tal , statuesque woman with glittering gold hair almost to her knees, her emerald green robes making her look like a jewel in a gold setting. The man who walked next to her wore a plain unlaced tunic and leggings, his feet bare. He swung a naked sword in relaxed fashion as he walked, as if he'd been doing a morning practice before he joined her for the strol .

As casual as he appeared, no one with eyes could mistake the man for anything but what he was. A king. It wasn't merely the broad shoulders or way he moved. It just . . . was.

It didn't matter that he hadn't looked their way, and perhaps, with Fae magic being what it was, they couldn't even see the opposite bank. Regardless, Jacob dropped to one knee and bowed his head before he drew another breath. He placed one hand over his heart, and one on the pommel of the short sword stil at his hip.

Catriona touched his shoulder again, drawing his eyes up. The two had stopped. King Arthur moved several steps closer to the water, and though they were not within speaking distance, Jacob could see a pair of steady eyes, a firm mouth. The Pendragon raised his sword before him, touched the flat to his forehead and gave a slight bow, an acknowledgment. Then he turned and rejoined the woman, where they continued their walk. As Jacob stared after them, the pink and gold mist rose up on the river, slowly swal owing the island again.

Catriona pressed the hem of her dress to his face, taking away the tears there. “Irishmen are very sentimental,” she said, with a tiny ghostlike smile. “I am glad the Lady of the Lake found you worthy. I wasn't sure if she would all ow the mist to part and you to see this, but if it was possible, I thought it might be a good gift, for what you did for me.” Jacob cleared his throat. He wasn't sure if he could speak quite yet, but he croaked out a sentence. “It was my lady who freed you. The gift . .. should be hers.”