Page 61 of To Love a Dark Lord

He smirked. “Liked by others.”

That had her slapping her hand over her eyes. “You’re liked by others, just, y’know…?” Not a ton of them?

“I have your love. All other fondness paid to me is by those creatures that I created. Galahad is now my enemy. The other knights bear me no love, nor should they.” Mordred shook his head. “I find myself very much alone. But do not mistake me, this suits me fine. I think I have given up this foolhardy quest to be respected or liked. I think I will finally comfort myself by settling for that which I garner best.” His expression turned just a little wicked. “Fear.”

“I don’t think…” She paused. What good was it to argue with him? Besides, she hated to admit it—but he was right. He was really damn good at being terrifying. “But I know you want to be king, and—and this—I didn’t want you to be mad.”

“You said it yourself. You do not wish for this. You chose to save my life. I could hardly become king if I were dead.” He reached out a hand and combed his claws through her hair, gently tucking a few strands behind her ear.

He wasn’t mad. What a damn relief. “I should have trusted you not to be angry, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you earlier because I didn’t know how you’d react.”

“I understand.” He finished his goblet of wine before pressing up out of his chair. She didn’t miss his wince as he did so. “I think it is best if I retire early. This wound seems to have at least temporarily cured me of my insomnia.”

“Silver linings, I guess. Do you need a hand?”

“No. But thank you.” He tipped her head so that he could bend down to kiss her, his lips lingering on hers. “Goodnight, my firefly.”

“Goodnight.” She smiled and watched him leave the room. If she didn’t know him, she wouldn’t have known anything was wrong. Dozens of wars and countless injuries would do that to a person.

The silence that followed settled over her like an unwelcome blanket. He didn’t seem angry with her for needing to become queen. But he hadn’t exactly been enthusiastic either. What had she expected? For him to be happy for her?

It all just left a strange feeling in her stomach. Something wasn’t right.

How dare they.

How dare the Ancients subject him to this!

This humiliation. This degradation. The throne should be his. His! He loved Gwendolyn, but she had no right to the crown. None. Arthur passed Caliburn to him, and it was stolen by the Gossamer Lady. Now Gwen would steal his reign as king?

No.

This could not stand.

He loved her. He loved her more than he loved life itself. There was no harm he could bring to her—that was out of the question. But something must be done.

Pacing back and forth in his bedroom, his blood was boiling from the rage. From the indignation of it all. It was his right to rule! Not her!

Staring down at his palms, Mordred clenched his fists and forced himself to slow his breathing. His heart was pounding, and it was giving him a headache. He could not push himself too hard as he was still injured.

But he would have to act soon.

The crown would be his.

TWENTY-ONE

Galahad watched the keep from the cover of the woods, and reflected upon how, not long ago, Lancelot had stood in this exact place, planning to do exactly the same thing.

But without the iron army and Mordred, the keep would fall much faster. He frowned at the idea of having to put Gwendolyn to the blade. It hurt him deeply. She did not deserve to die. But that was war. That was what happened when forces fought for power.

The fires flickered in the woods around him, where the elementals had set up camp. Their light would warn the denizens of the keep, whoever was left. And that was very much by design. He knew the villagers had rallied to Gwendolyn’s cause. He knew that upon seeing their encroaching force, she would send them away. She would seek to spare their lives and likely surrender herself to them.

That was his sincerest hope.

“I know you feel this is wrong,” Zoe said as she approached, hugging his arm and leaning her cheek against him. “But it must be done.”

Galahad merely sighed in response.

“I will ensure her death is quick and painless. I do not wish for her to suffer. I am so very sorry that you have had to endure the loss of your friends. But you know quite well what Mordred would have done to this world, should he have been allowed to live.”

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