Page 51 of To Love a Dark Lord

“Gwendolyn.”

“No. No. I need a minute.” She waved her hand. “I don’t want to puke, sorry.”

“Gwendolyn.” Something in Mordred’s tone had shifted. He sounded…pained.

Blinking, she turned around to face him. And all at once, everything changed. She barely noticed the corpse of Thorn lying in the snow behind Mordred. Because there was something else far more important directly in front of her.

Mordred.

And the sword that was jutting from his stomach. It had pierced through his armor. He was holding onto it with his gauntlet, but she could see the blood pouring from between his fingers.

“Wh—”

“I am sorry it came to this.”

The sword wrenched out of Mordred. He collapsed to his knees, his hand pressing to the wound. Panicked, Gwen stepped between him and the person who had spoken.

Zoe.

The Gossamer Lady was floating there, wings flickering amber in the light of the fire. And hovering in the air beside her was a sword that looked very familiar. The last time Gwen had seen it, it was rusted and broken, but still no less formidable.

Caliburn.

“H-how—” Gwen stammered. Caliburn had been destroyed.

Standing beside her was Galahad, his own sword at the ready, resplendent in his golden armor. He was wearing his helm, and she couldn’t see his face—or if he approved of what was happening. “Stand aside, Gwendolyn. Let us do this,” he urged. “You do not have to die here with him.”

“Fuck you.” Gwen was shaking. Mordred might die, even if they didn’t finish him off. She had survived an arrow wound, but a sword was something else entirely. How was she going to get him home? How was she going to get him to safety? She couldn’t carry him. She couldn’t fly them both there.

“I warned you,” Zoe said to her husband. “She will not abandon him.”

“I know.” Galahad sighed heavily. “Gwendolyn, I am so very sorry.”

“I don’t—I was going to try to get him to spare you both. I—I had a plan.” She cringed. That was partially a lie. She had time to come up with a plan, which was close enough. “Please, don’t. Don’t. You’ve made your point.”

Mordred grunted from behind her as he fought his way to standing. He stuck his sword into the snow and leaned on it for support. “They will not listen to you, Gwendolyn. Our last stand is here and now.”

If that was true, they were doomed. She couldn’t take on Zoe and Galahad—and Zoe had Caliburn. Somehow.

She clenched her hands at her sides. It was up to her. She had to get them out of here. But how?

If only they could fly home.

Then it hit her.

If she could create a horse…

Spreading her wings, she focused her power. Her flames burned brighter, shifting colors as the temperature rose. Shutting her eyes, she manifested the creature she saw in her mind. If Zoe and Galahad were going to play dirty? So could she. She opened her eyes.

Galahad took a step toward her, ready to fight.

“Hey.” Gwen smiled. “Look up, assholes.”

Galahad paused before both he and Zoe obeyed.

And it was right then that an enormous dragon landed in the center of the camp. It was made of onyx, like her horse—but its wings were ablaze, like hers. It set the nearby tents on fire as it bellowed out a screech that shook the ground beneath her, sending a jet of fire shooting from its maw as it did.

If it landed on her former friends, great.

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