Page 57 of To Love a Dark Lord

And little by little, Galahad’s dread increased.

At the Gossamer Lady’s request, he even approached his former knights. Bors, Gawain, and Tristan told him they were uninterested in fighting Mordred and wished to enjoy their lives of freedom and quiet. He did not press the matter, and neither did Zoe.

No small part of him had been relieved. He did not wish to put his brothers through more pain. But there was one to whom they had yet to speak. And one whose conversation he was dreading.

And it was him that they were seeking out next.

Conversation with the elementals concluded, Zoe opened a portal for them to travel through. And what greeted him on the other side was a modest home, tucked deep in the woods. He saw no other structure within sight in all directions. Whoever lived here wished to be left alone.

Galahad could not say he blamed him.

Dismounting his steed, he approached the door. Lifting his fist, he went to knock, only to have the door swing open before he could bring his knuckles down upon it.

It took everything in Galahad’s being not to flinch when he looked upon the scarred and mutilated face of his former brother-in-arms. Mordred had not taken Percival’s betrayal lightly, and had made sure that the act of removing his iron magic from the copper knight’s chest had gone as painfully as possible.

“I heard your heavy boots, you walking beanpole.” Percival grunted. “Why are you here? If Mordred wants something, he can suck off a goat.”

Galahad frowned. “I am not here at the behest of our former prince. Though I am here because of him, I suppose.” He did not want to do this, he realized. He did not want to rally these forces and contend for the throne. He did not want to hurt Gwendolyn.

But the die had been cast. His choice had been made. And there was no turning back.

Percival narrowed his eyes—well, one eye. The other seemed frozen by scar tissue. “Spit it out.”

“Mordred is dead. Fatally wounded by the Gossamer Lady.” He stepped aside, gesturing to Zoe. “She has rebuilt Caliburn and seeks the throne. We ask for your assistance. To join us, in seeking the death of Gwendolyn and to stand against any who might oppose the Gossamer Lady’s ascendance to the throne.”

Percival paused. Then he burst out in laughter so hard that he had to lean against the doorjamb. “You—you—have slain Mordred?”

“He could not withstand the power of Caliburn.” Zoe lifted her chin in defiance.

“You attacked him from behind. You must have fought cheaply, there is no way you could have bested him in combat.” Percival continued to chuckle before slowly calming his laughter. “But if you think I am deriding your choice, you are wrong. I would have done precisely the same thing. Congratulations to you, and good riddance to that rusted bastard.”

Zoe’s smile was tender. “Will you join us, then?”

Percival thought about it for a moment. “Yes. Perhaps I will be given the gift of an honorable death in battle.” A thin, cruel smile twisted up the side of his lips that still moved properly. “And I always hated that girl.”

That broke his heart. But Galahad understood. Nodding once, he turned from the conversation without another word. He could not stomach it.

“We will rally at the keep within the week. Please attend if you are able.” Zoe’s voice was unwaveringly pleasant and sweet. “I expect Gwendolyn will pose little threat to us, but I would like to be overly cautious.”

“A shame we elementals leave nothing but dust behind when we die.” Percival’s tone was cold. “I would have loved to have spat on his corpse. But I guess watching Gwendolyn die will be good enough. I will be there, Gossamer Lady. Knight in Gold.”

Percival shut the door. Galahad was glad to be done with him.

“What is wrong, my love?” Zoe frowned at him. “It troubles you to see your old companion. And what has become of him.”

“Yes,” he admitted. It was easy to see, and while she may not have understood the depths and reasoning behind his distaste, it was still a fact.

“I know you were friends with Gwendolyn. But she chose her side, and you chose yours. There is no going back now.” Zoe hugged him, her small, thin arms circling his waist. He held her back, kissing the top of her head.

“Let us go home, my love.” Zoe held his hand, her fingers winding between his much coarser ones. “It has been a long day.”

“Aye.” Relief welled in him at the idea of home. What a simple yet powerful concept—home. Home, with her. He loved her. That was the unavoidable truth of it all. His Gossamer Lady was his life. His light. Without her, he would have nothing—no reason to be. He would follow her to the end, even if he disagreed with her choices.

He was her knight. He would protect her to the very end.

It was his sacred duty. No matter what may come.

No matter the cost.

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