Page 47 of To Break a Dark Cage

After that, he could rest.

His jaw twitched as he committed to his decision. “Very well. I accept your bargain, Lady Thorn. Where is he?”

She grinned. “He has taken to the network of caves at the foot of the mountain. But he is avoiding the volcanic areas—likely thinking you would search there first. The entrance he is using is on the northwest side. My commander Inthoti saw him there, not a day ago.” She jerked a thumb behind her in the direction of a creature whose gender was long since lost to time, worn away like the limestone that made up their body.

“I will meet you there. Go ahead of the army, ensure you track his movements if he leaves. Stay discreet—we do not wish to alert him before it is necessary.”

“First—you do not order me about.” She bared her teeth again, her hands closing into tight fists. “And second, do you not think the approach of your army will give it away?”

Perhaps she was right. A smaller force—his knights, plus Thorn and her elementals—would be enough to end the demon. If Mordred split his troops, he could have a legion at every exit of the caverns. Zoe’s control over him would be tempting enough bait to lure the rat out of its den. Then they would strike.

It was a good plan. A very good plan. But there was only one problem with it.

What would stop Lady Thorn from turning on him, the moment he was weakened? “And what is my guarantee of your honesty?”

“I do not think you get to have one.” She tilted her head to the side slightly, a mild look of insanity in her eyes. “I am not the one who has committed terrible crimes—who has tortured every elemental on this island for three centuries. What guarantee do I have that you will not betray my trust and place me in the Crystal the moment the demon is dead?”

That was a fair point. “It seems we are simply left to…trust each other.”

“I dislike it just as much as you. Do not worry much over that.” She huffed. “But I am sick of the pointless bloodshed. I wish a quick end to you both. With as little damage to the others as possible.”

That was intriguing. “You were one of the bloodiest of the warlords before the Crystal.”

“Yes.” She winced. “And I find myself sick of screams.”

Perhaps there was hope for the island, after all.

After his death, there might be peace.

And that was a sacrifice he knew his uncle would approve of.

Not that it would not be far too little and far too late. “I will meet you at the caverns with my knights. My armies will divide and cover a perimeter. We will smoke him out.” He paused. “No pun intended.”

She snorted, but not at his poor joke. “And how will you do that?”

“You will see.” He turned his stallion. Without another word, he kicked the creature’s sides and set it off in a gallop back toward his legions. There was work to do.

It was a strange feeling, to be certain of his impending death. He expected to fear it, even after all the centuries he had spent alive. Even after all the narrowly avoided moments of catastrophe in all his battles and wars. But that was the difference, was it not? All of those moments came with the chance of death.

This was knowing his death was coming. Like an old man, told of a growth that would take his life. He did not know how long he had, but he knew it was not very much. And there was an odd…peace was the wrong word.

Consolation.

Simplicity.

That was it. His death was simple. It was known. It was inevitable. And there was a simplicity to be found in the surrendering of chance. Of hope.

He would not tell Gwendolyn. It would grieve her too much. He would not say goodbye to her a second time. He would spend his dreams with her while he could. He would savor every moment by her side, even as a ghost. And the knowledge of their last kiss would be his burden to bear alone.

There was enough that he had forced upon her in such a short time.

She was mortal and back with her family. Young suitors would come calling for her—especially with her newfound courage. She should be with her own kind. She should love, and be loved, a mortal boy who would give her happiness and a family.

Not him.

Not a doomed soul, destined for tragedy.

Percival believed that Mordred had become tired and weak. That Gwendolyn was inspiring him to abandon all desire to live. No. That was not true. It was her absence that had done it. The ride back to the encampment did not take long at all. When he stormed into his tent, he summoned Galahad. The Knight in Gold ducked under the entrance to his tent a few moments later.

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