Page 69 of To Charm a Dark Prince

“Lance?”

“Lancelot has too many syllables for a nickname. Need something short and easy.” She smiled faintly.

“I see.” He joined her in leaning on the railing. “As to what to do…I am sorry for the position you have been put in. Do you want to talk?”

Letting out a puff of air, she watched it turn to mist in the chilly air. “I don’t know if I can betray Mordred. Literally and figuratively. I don’t know if I can bring myself to do it, and I don’t know if I’d even be successful if I tried.”

“So you’re siding with him?”

“No. I don’t know.” She shut her eyes. “It should be super clear, right? He’s the bad guy. He’s keeping everybody locked away and suffering. He’s using the magic he’s stolen to create his armor things. But I also don’t know what it was likebefore.How bad it really was with all the constant warring and death. I believe that he thinks he honestly is doing the right thing.”

“And so have many tyrants and bastards in this world.” Lancelot sighed. “No one is ever the villain of their own tale. They will warp the reality around them to make themselves the hero in their own eyes—no matter how much of a farce that may be.”

“I know. I know.”

“He is charismatic in his own way. He is kind to you. But that does not stop him from being a monster.” Lancelot turned to face her. She didn’t dare meet his gaze. She felt too guilty about everything as it was. “I know that asking you to champion our cause is not fair to you. And I am deeply sorry for it. But you are the only hope we have had in three centuries that his reign might be put to an end.”

“I don’t get why you can’t do it yourself. I mean—heknowsyou hate him. It’s not like you’re subtle.”

Lancelot pulled the collar of his shirt aside, and she was distracted by the glow of the crystal embedded in his chest over his heart. “It is part of this curse that he has placed upon us. Any action we take against him would cause our death before we could see the deed through.”

“What about, like, I don’t know…poison or something?”

He chuckled, sarcastic and derisive. “I tried that. I laced his soup with nightshade. The moment his lips touched the spoon I was lost into a fit of convulsions. The agony was unbearable. And he knew precisely what I had done.”

Cringing, she couldn’t help but be sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

“I do not know what was worse, the pain from the curse or what he did to me afterwards for my insolence.” Lancelot turned his back to her, and she was confused for a moment before he pulled his shirt from his trousers and lifted it to show her his back.

It was laced with scars.

Criss-crossed lines arched across his back in intersecting diagonals. They looked too systematic to have been done with a whip. They almost looked like they had been done with a knife. Or…claws.

“Oh, God.” She put her hands over her mouth.

“That was what I paid for my second attempt at mutiny. The first resulted in the curse itself. I have not made a third attempt. I know it would be my last.” He tucked his shirt back into his trousers and returned to leaning on the railing beside her. “It is not without desperation that I ask you for your help.”

“I know, Iknow.I just…” She put her hands over her face. “I’m just a dumb kid from Kansas, I don’t know what to do. How am I supposed to take him on? He doesn’t trust anybody. Certainly not me. I can’t get him to just let his guard down.”

“Perhaps you can. Perhaps you already have, to a certain extent.” Lancelot hummed. “You are a fire elemental. And fire can melt iron when raised to a hot enough degree. If you can learn to control your powers…you could destroy the Crystal. You would simply need someone to distract Mordred long enough for you to do the deed. Once you decide to end this all, tell me, and I will ensure you have enough time to do so.”

She didn’t like this plan. It sounded terrible. She hadn’t even settled the first question of whether or not Mordred was wrong—although the score was now probably three for his downfall, one against. She wanted more time to figure it out, but nobody seemed to want to give her any.

And that was before she tried to address the question of whether or not she could even successfullydoanything to Mordred. Even when she had the necklace off, she could barely control her fire, let alone focus it to do any damage to the Iron Crystal.

“I guess I’ll keep training with him.” Something about it still felt wrong. “And we’ll see how I feel when we get to the point where I could even try.”

Lancelot smiled, his silver eyes glittering. “I think that sounds like a brilliant idea. The best we have had in centuries.”

“That tells me you’ve only had really shitty plans until now.”

Laughing, he reached out and pulled her into a hug. “You do not know the short of it, Gwen.”

She hugged him back. It felt…nice. Less prickly than Mordred with all his armor and his pointy claws.

“I am disappointed we are not going for a ride tomorrow. Perhaps I can steal you away later in the afternoon?” He pulled back far enough to cup her cheek in his hand. His touch was warm. Strong, but tender. “I find that I enjoyed our time together not only because you are my hope for salvation.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the ladies.”

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