Page 14 of To Love a Dark Lord

“Y—yes, Mother.”

Had Gwendolyn been a lie?

Or had she been real?

It was so difficult to tell…

Perhaps it did not matter.

The darkness already had him, after all.

FIVE

Gwen wasn’t sure what drove her out to the stables the next morning. The staff were going about their early routines—and she smiled as she saw a few of Bert’s people mixed in with the iron guards. They needed work, and she was happy enough to have more folks around in the keep. She was sure Mordred would roll his eyes, but she looked forward to having that debate in person. And hopefully soon.

One of the mares reached her head over the door of the stall, investigating her. Smiling, she reached out her hand and let the horse sniff her hand for treats. “Sorry, hon. Nothing for you this morning. But you’ll get fed soon.”

The mare pulled her head back, clearly uninterested since Gwen didn’t have treats to bribe her with. That was fine by her—the mare wasn’t who she’d come to see, anyway. She wasn’t sure what had inspired her to come down here. She had woken up feeling restless and let her feet guide her to where they wanted to take her.

It was when she reached the end of the stable that she figured it out. The heavy thud of a metal hoof smashed into a thick wooden door, rattling it on its cast-iron hinges.

Ah.

Right.

She looked up at Mordred’s iron stallion—with its eerie, opalescent glowing eyes. It snorted at her, frustrated, and shook its head in defiance. Its mane was made of tiny chains, and suddenly she realized she had never really paid too much attention to the animal. It was too aggressive for her to really try to get to know him at all.

“Hi.”

The horse snorted again.

“I bet you’re really sick of being cooped up.” She tucked her hands into her pockets. She had created a long woolen overcoat for herself. She kept forgetting she was able to summon clothes out of thin air like Doc had done—but slowly, she was getting more and more used to it. Her mind still had a hard time defaulting to “just use magic.”

But it was nice to have a coat. Cloaks were good and all, but coats had pockets. And pockets were fantastic. Gwen watched the horse, and the horse watched her. “I’m sorry about what’s happened. About Mordred, about…all of it.” Why exactly she was saying all this to a metal horse, she had no idea. But it felt right.

“Leaving you in here doesn’t feel right.” She sighed. “I know you’re not—y’know—flesh and blood, but…you’re still alive. And being stuck in here without anyone to walk you or any time in the field must be miserable all the same.” Shaking her head, she glanced out the front of the stables. “I’d try to take you out for a ride, but I like having my spleen on the inside. Something tells me you wouldn’t let me get close.”

A heavy thud of a hoof against the door was her answer. Nope.

“I’d go talk to Tiny, but he’s asleep. Always. I think he only woke up to deal with Mordred because he had to.” She chuckled sadly. “Whatever.” She leaned up against the wall next to the stable, watching the morning sun slowly spread over the courtyard outside the stables. “So. You won’t let anybody near you. And we can’t leave you in there.” Shutting her eyes, she rested her head against the beam behind her. “And I don’t know if I’ll be successful. I have to go to war, horsie. I have to get people killed. All in the name of saving him.”

An angry huff was all she got from the animal.

“And there’s a real, real good chance I fail and wind up dead. The odds of me surviving any of this are…minimal. I’m not naive enough to think anything else. And if I’m dead, this place’ll get overrun. The elementals will come and slaughter everyone who’s left.” Gwen cringed at the thought. Tim. Mae. Eod. They wouldn’t spare anyone or anything.

Including Mordred’s horse.

“So, here are the options—I go to war, I succeed, and Mordred is free. And you get to go back to normal life. Or, I die, and you get destroyed. Or, even worse, I die, and they leave you here—and you wait a thousand years for Mordred to come back. And who knows what’ll be left of him if that happens. Or you, for that matter.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “I guess it’s not fair to make you gamble on my choices. Even if you are a super-mean horse.”

Another heavy thud against the wood was so perfectly timed that she had to laugh. “Well, if the dog can understand English, who’s to say you can’t too?” That made it even worse, she supposed. “Whatever.”

Turning to face the huge metal animal, she had to crane her neck to really look up at him. He was enormous. Easily the size of a Clydesdale. He was a tank. Almost literally.

“Just don’t—y’know—trample me, or some shit, okay?” She pulled the huge pin out of the gate’s door.

The horse didn’t hesitate a moment. He slammed the door open, forcing Gwen to jump out of the way. It smashed into the other wall, cracking from the impact. And just like that, the sound of hooves was like thunder pounding on the dirt as the stallion ran from the stables and for freedom.

She jogged from the stables herself to watch as the enormous metal creature ran into the field outside the keep. The guards shouted, looking to her for orders to catch the horse. She shook her head. “Let him go.”

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