Page 44 of To Love a Dark Lord

“Pah. I haven’t stopped feeding hungry mouths since this rabble arrived!” Mae hugged her back before quickly going back to fussing over the plates of food. “It’s wonderful.”

That answered that question. “I was worried you’d be pissed.”

“Me? Angry? Hardly! I have scores of people to feed who are grateful for my talent. It is nice to finally be thanked for my work.”

“Careful, Maewenn,” Mordred warned as he reached forward to spear a roll with the end of one of his claws before taking a bite from it. “I am standing right here.”

“Yes, and it is fantastic to see you, prince.” Maewenn put her hands on her hips with a clank. “And I see your mood has been left intact after your stay in the Crystal.” She paused. “I am glad that you are safe, my lord.”

Mordred’s smile was soft. “And I am happy to have returned. Now, shoo. Get back to your starving masses.”

“Eagerly.” She huffed in fake indignation and headed from the room.

Gwen shook her head at the exchange. Mordred was difficult, they all knew that. It was part of his charm. If she could call it that. “I see you were successful in raising an army,” she said to Bert.

“More or less. This is half what we should have. But since Thorn has rallied her own forces and declared war on all those who’ve refused to join her…well.” He leaned his elbows on the table, the weight of the deaths clearly burdening him. “This is all that’s left.”

Mordred sighed as he walked toward the window, gazing down on the field of villagers as he idly ate his roll. “It is best to leave them here to defend the keep, while I face Lady Thorn alone.”

“We have a right to have a hand in saving ourselves.” Lina glared at the back of Mordred’s head. “We are here to fight for our own future.”

“And die for it. Thorn and her minions will tear through you like wheat. Better that I dispose of her personally.” Mordred rested his hands on the windowsill.

“What if you fail?” Bert sat back in his chair. “You had the chance to kill her a dozen times before, and you didn’t.”

Mordred laughed. It sent a chill down Gwen’s spine. It wasn’t a mirthful sound. Judging by the pallor that came over Lina and Mirkon, they understood what it meant.

“She lives purely by my own folly. This is an error I seek to rectify. Immediately.”

Gwen’s jaw twitched. She shut her eyes. “Let’s back up and take a second.”

“What is there to discuss?” Mordred turned from the window to face them. The setting sun cut him as a stark silhouette against the amber sky.

“I don’t know, like, maybe there’s another way to stop Thorn without killing her.” Gwen threw up her hands in frustration. Her stomach grumbled, and she gave in to the temptation of the platter of food. She slumped down into a chair and began to gather a few slices of cheese and pieces of cured sausage.

“How many times must she work to end our lives before we return the favor? How many innocents must die?” The Prince in Iron paced back and forth near the wall, reminding her of a caged tiger.

A caged, rabid, bloodthirsty tiger.

“I don’t know.” She rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted, and this wasn’t helping. “Can’t we lock her up instead?”

“I have tried that,” Mordred snapped.

“I mean in jail, not a torture chamber,” she snapped back.

Mirkon did his best to try to calm the situation. “I—perhaps—we put it to a vote?”

Mordred laughed again, just as unkindly as the first time. “A vote? You sit in my home. I am the rightful King of Avalon—heir to Arthur’s crown. I have not taken that which is mine by right out of respect. But that does not mean that I will entertain any notion that I am one of you.”

“Great, is everybody fucking going after the throne now?” Gwen wanted to rip her hair out. “First Thorn. Then Zoe. Now you. Maybe I’ll throw my goddamn hat in the ring! Why not? Queen Gwen. Fuck it.”

“I’d vote for y—” Mirkon kept his voice quiet. But it didn’t matter.

“There shall be no vote!” Mordred roared. He clenched his fists at his sides, positively shaking from rage. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment before slowly letting it out. “I leave at midnight. Alone. Thorn’s head will be on a spike adorning my walls by dawn. There is nothing any of you can do to persuade me toward another course of action. No one shall stop me.” His gaze met Gwen’s, and she shrank back at the intensity there. “Not even you.”

He stormed from the room then, slamming the large wooden door behind him. The echo of the impact made them all jolt in their seats. With a wavering breath, Gwen folded her arms on the table in front of her and put her forehead on them, wishing to crawl into a dark hole. “Fuck.”

“That sums it up nicely.” Bert pushed up from the chair. “I don’t drink, but it seems like you need to.” He headed over to Mordred’s bar and fished around for a bottle of wine. Gwen wouldn’t argue.

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