Page 72 of To Love a Dark Lord

“Uh oh.” He lifted his head and licked her cheek. “But dog love Dad.”

“I love Dad too.” Eod’s worried and sappy tone of voice was going to make it very hard to stay pissed at Mordred. But she was sure he’d remind her really quickly exactly why she was so mad. “It’ll all be all right.”

Taking a breath again, she let it out in a rush, her panic quieting down enough to let her remember what had just happened. Grinn had terrorized her so badly it…must have forced her awake through the spell that Mordred had placed her under.

Holy shit, my panic attacks finally serve a purpose. How nice.

But that made her wonder—had Grinn done it on purpose?

Had he really been there and known that was going to work?

What if he was just a figment of her imagination, and that meant she knew somehow it would wake her up?

Or, maybe he had been there but actually wanted to maim her, and it was a happy accident?

Option four was that he hadn’t been there, and she was just terrorizing herself for shits and giggles.

All options were deeply and equally ridiculous, but one of them had to be true. She supposed it didn’t really matter either way. It’d be nice to know if Grinn was really alive and back in hell with his family, she supposed. Even if he was a total asshole.

“I—”

She paused as the sound of a dragon flying overhead, the heavy whumf of wings, was followed by a dark shadow blotting out the sun for a brief moment. A heavier ka-thud and the screech of metal that was Tiny’s shriek told her that she had woken up either just in time or too late.

“Eod, you have to stay. This is dangerous. I’m serious.” She pointed at him sternly.

The dog whimpered but laid his head back down and seemed like he was going to obey. But she had a feeling it wasn’t going to last. With a sigh, she shook her head. “Fine. Stay with Mae.”

“Dog protect food lady!”

Smiling despite the situation, she jumped out of bed, still dressed from the night before. She looked down at the ring on her finger. She had to get it off. It was an emergency. Yanking on it with her other hand, it didn’t budge. It wasn’t too tight; it should come off easily—but it was stuck on her as if built into her hand.

Maybe she could melt it. Holding up her hand, she ignited it. Focusing on her power, she tried to burn as hot as she could. She watched as the fire shifted colors. Red, to orange, to yellow. She gritted her teeth. It needed to be hotter. Picturing her frustration and her anger, she watched the flame turn white. Then blue.

The iron ring was unchanged. It should have at least heated up, changed colors—something. Anything. Putting out her flame, she touched the ring. It was cold.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

A magic ring that wasn’t meltable, removable, and was a glorified Gwen off switch. Great. She figured it wouldn’t be that easy, but she had to try. Shutting her eyes, she sighed. She didn’t have time to fart around with trying to un-magic it off.

And that left only one option.

This was going to hurt.

A lot.

“Fuck you, Mordred. Fuck you.”

Galahad had battled Mordred a thousand times. He had seen what both the mortal man and the elemental had been capable of in combat.

This…was like fighting a stranger.

The odds were against the Prince in Iron. Three against one. But it was like battling a force of nature. The man Galahad called friend had fought with rigor but with restraint—with a calm that had been pervasive and brought from discipline and practice.

This Mordred fought with a wild and unhinged fury. Galahad was driven back by the brutally painful impacts of Mordred’s sword against his, the clang of metal sending a reverberating jolt up his arm. But he was not simply fighting with sword and steel—he was fighting with iron.

All the while, the sounds of chaos and war raged outside the castle. An army of iron versus an army of elementals. The elementals would win—eventually—but could they do it in time before it was too late? He had to push his thoughts to the background. This fight was taking all his focus.

Zoe dashed out of the way, barely avoiding being cut in half as Mordred hardened his cape into iron panels and swiped at her, the heavy whoosh at odds with how fast it moved.

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