Page 69 of To Love a Dark Lord

“My love.” Galahad turned on his horse to address her, all thoughts of the strange warning fleeing from his head. “Is that not rash? Allow them to have this place—it is a secure fortress. Given what Thorn did to so many of their homes, it seems only fair.”

“I am not Thorn, and the violence afforded Mordred’s people ends today. If what you say is true, scarecrow.” Zoe lifted her head in defiance. “I wish to inspect the keep to ensure she is not hiding in some darkened corner. This could easily be a ploy.”

Bertin sighed. “I—just—I think you should both go. Now. Take your army and leave. Galahad, you are a good man. A good man. Those don’t come around often. You should all leave. Now.”

There came the warning again. It unsettled him. What did the scarecrow know?

But his wife was the one in command. Zoe smiled gently at Bertin, clearly trying to soothe his worries. “You have every right to be frightened and concerned. We mean you and your friends no harm. Let us inspect the keep—simply the two of us. Then you will be allowed to leave with your people at your own pace.”

“Right.” Bertin paused to think. “Fine. But only you three. Your friends stay out here, where we can keep an eye on them. You’ll forgive me if there’s no love lost between my people and yours.”

“Of course. I—” Zoe paused.

There was the sound of a flap of wings. Deep and resonant. Powerful enough that it made Galahad’s ears pop with a pressure change.

That was a dragon.

But not just any dragon.

“I told you to leave.” Bertin retreated into the safety of the walls of the keep. “I tried. I’m sorry.”

Galahad looked up.

As an enormous iron dragon came down behind him. It was not targeting him—it was targeting the elementals. That was the only reason he was still alive and not flattened underneath its enormous claws. The sound of its screech made his ears ring. It sounded like sharpened nails on metal.

He turned his horse to see the familiar and terrifying creature tearing into those who had sworn fealty to the Gossamer Lady. Zoe screamed, her hands covering her mouth. But neither he nor his Gossamer Lady could spare any concern for the elementals now scrambling to defend themselves.

Explosions of fire and the crackle of lightning echoed through the field as the elementals warred against the great iron dragon. An enormous boulder hurtled through the air, sending the dragon staggering, but it did not even dent the panels that made up its body. Nearly every elemental on the island stood against that creature—and it would take them all to destroy it.

“Archers, at the ready!” Bertin shouted. “Soldiers! Be ready to defend our home!” The scarecrow shook his head and hollered at Galahad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to have to do this.”

Movement at the top of the walls caught Galahad’s eye. He looked up to see the villagers pulling off their cloaks to reveal the iron armor they had been hiding beneath them. Soldiers put metal helms upon their heads—more iron.

Galahad wanted to laugh. Well done, Gwendolyn. Well done.

Regiments of iron soldiers were approaching from the left and the right, coming from around the sides of the keep, flanking them. The dragon was cutting Zoe, Percival, and Galahad off from the elementals. The iron soldiers were about to end them if they did not act quickly.

He grabbed Zoe by the upper arm, hating that he had to manhandle her in such a way, but there were no other options. He hefted her up onto the saddle in front of him, and kicking his golden steed as hard as he could, rode it in the only direction he could.

Into the keep. But the other option was worse—certain death under a hail of arrows.

Unfortunately—many of those archers were now pointed inward at them instead. But they seemed either under orders not to fire…as though…

This was a trap.

Galahad dismounted his horse, drawing his sword, and stood to face a far more present danger that was waiting for them at the top of the stairs into the building proper. He heard Percival follow suit.

The gate creaked and slammed shut as the villagers pushed it closed, muffling the sounds of the battle outside. What sounds of archery he could hear were pointed outward, protecting the keep from the fray.

Zoe stood beside him, wings unfurled, Caliburn floating in the air nearby, ready for battle.

The screams of battle had begun behind them and outside the walls—the clash of metal, the roar of fire, the heavy thud of the dragon’s steps. It did not matter. None of it mattered.

The iron dragon. The soldiers. It was far too much for Gwendolyn to command. Soon, he had his answer—soon, the severity of the trap that had slammed shut around them became clear. Like a nightmare, like a demon from hell—against all odds.

He was alive.

Mordred.

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