Page 76 of To Love a Dark Lord

He turned his attention toward the Gossamer Lady. The reaction from Galahad was instant and palpable.

“Your fight is with me, Mordred.” Galahad moved to cut him off from advancing toward the butterfly-winged woman. Galahad swung his sword, causing Mordred to deflect with his own blade and step aside.

“My fight is with you both.” Mordred laughed. “Or, have you forgotten who ran me through with my own blade?”

“It was never yours!” Zoe fumed, blinking out of existence where she was and reappearing across the dirt of his courtyard. It was difficult to catch a woman who was as constant and predictable as bolts of lightning. One moment here, the next there.

“It was given to me by Arthur. I was his proper heir. The last words upon his lips before he died charged me with the protection of this place.” Mordred was tired of making the argument—this would be the last time he bothered to speak it. “It is you who have taken that which does not belong to you.”

“Is this how you protect Avalon? By destroying it?” Galahad charged toward him again. Mordred was sick of the interruptions. Gesturing his hand, a thin and rusted spike of iron shot from the ground, skewering Galahad through the calf.

The Knight in Gold shouted in pain and went to move forward. But the spike was barbed and jagged, and any movement on his part would rip his leg to shreds. His other leg buckled as he fell to that knee, his sword hitting the ground with a thump.

It was a dirty trick. A coward’s ploy. Something Mordred would once have loathed to resort to. But now? Now, it felt…so easy. So simple. Why would he not use his power to its fullest extent?

Arthur was not watching him. No judge and jury were waiting that had power over him.

“Galahad!” Zoe cried and rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around the man she loved. “Let him go, Mordred!”

“Why?” Mordred took his time approaching the pair. “Give me a reason, and I will consider it.”

“This is not right.” Zoe’s eyes were wide, and he watched as tears began to fill them.

“I will amend my statement.” Mordred stopped a few paces away. “Give me a good reason.”

Zoe’s lips twisted in a grimace, and he watched as her eyes slowly grew black from lid to lid. Her voice echoed with another, deeper voice. “Release him, or I shall end all those within this keep.”

“You mean them?” He gestured at the villagers on the walls of the ramparts. They were still fighting the war outside, firing arrows at any of the elementals who drew too close. Those without bows were waiting for their chance to battle. “Go ahead. I do not care.”

Zoe continued. “I will wither and rot every living thing?—”

“As you wish. You cannot harm me.”

“Run, my love—” Galahad pulled his helm from his head. Sweat matted his brow. A bruise was forming on his jaw from where Mordred had punched him. “Run. I am lost. Go and save yourself.”

“I would hunt you down, Gossamer Lady. I will not stop until you are dead.” Mordred kept his voice even. It was not a threat. It was a simple fact. “There is nowhere you can hide. No shadow in which you might cower that I would not search to find you.”

“Let her live. Spare her. If our friendship meant anything to you, spare the woman I love.” Galahad struggled to stand, but it was no use. He collapsed a second later.

“It hurts me to see you like this. Weak. Tired. You need a rest, old man.” Mordred took another step forward.

Zoe blocked his path, standing her ground, the darkness of her eyes swirling like an oil slick.

Mordred lifted his blade and pointed the tip at her throat.

“One touch from me and you will be dead.” Her voice was like the rumble of thunder upon the horizon.

“You will be dead before you have the chance to try.” Mordred smiled underneath his helm. She would be a proper challenge.

“I—”

Fire roared through the air, making it suddenly difficult to breathe. It blotted out the sky. Turning, Mordred felt his heart skip a beat.

A woman whose hair was a pure fiery blaze stood atop the stairs to his keep, wings like those of a dragon spread behind her. It was from her that the explosion had come. A terrible, beautiful, force of nature.

Mordred paused. As did the others.

“Enough.”

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