Page 55 of To Charm a Dark Prince

“Thenwhat?” Mordred fought the urge to sink his claws deep into the man’s throat and rip it out. It would serve no purpose except to satiate his rage and bloodlust. He would regret it the moment it was done. “Tell me, Percival, what would you have me do?”

“I—well—” The Knight in Bronze took another step back.

“You come in here seeking insight into my actions. You came even perhaps seeking to advise me. So do so. Tell me your wisdom, oh knight.”

“I simply believe that if you wish to maintain your grasp on Avalon, then contending with this threat immediately would make the most logical sense. I am merely confused.”

“Confused or hopeful? Believe me, Percival, I am not so naive as to think that Lancelot is the only one of you who runs his mouth behind my back.” He snatched Percival by the front of his cloak and yanked him forward, almost knocking the stocky man off his feet. “State your true purpose, knight.”

“I am not speaking falsely, I—”

Lifting his clawed hand, Mordred flexed his power. The crystal embedded into Percival’s heart responded. The captive magic, kept suspended and trapped by the iron he imbued within it, flared. The knight screamed in pain.

“Do you wish to try again?”

“Please, my prince—” Percival’s knees went out. Mordred let him fall roughly to the ground. The Knight in Copper clutched his chest.

Mordred eased off. “Why did you come to speak to me, Percival? What did you seek to learn?”

“I wished to see if you were—growing weak. If you were weary of this life and were using the girl as an opportunity to surrender.” Percival coughed, his head lowered.

Mordred laughed. “Of course. The shark in the water coming to see if he smells blood. I hate to disappoint you. Do you wish to know my true motives? Hm?” He placed his boot over Percival’s fingers and leaned his weight onto them. Not breaking the bones. Not yet. “The young woman has piqued my interest. I wish to amuse myself with her for as long as the game may last. Some warmth in an otherwise bleak and companionless existence. I suppose you might find it morein characterif I were to chain her to my bedposts, hm?”

“I—I am sorry, my prince, I—” The knight broke off in a gag of pain as Mordred shifted more weight onto Percival’s fingers.

“It may be hard for you to understand why I let her roam free and why I will instead tempt from her what I wish instead of simply having it. Why I, the bastard tyrant you believe me to be, will simply nottakefrom her what you feel I havetakenfrom all of you. Consider this, then, Percival, the Knight in Copper…that perhaps she does not deserve to suffer the same as traitors.” He lifted his foot from the other man’s hand.

Percival stayed on his knees, cradling his injured hand against his chest.

“Go.” Mordred turned from Percival to resume gazing out the window. “And do not return to speak to me in such a foolish manner ever again.”

“Y—yes, my prince.” Percival nearly ran from the room, shutting the door behind him.

By the Ancients, Mordred wanted to scream. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm his raging temper. He wanted to rip someone to shreds. It was times like these that he would go and get into a brawl at the bar, or pester his uncle into training him. But there was no one around with whom he wished to spar.

The sound of dogs barking in the distance prompted him to open his eyes in time to see two horses riding from the woods back into the field. His gaze landed on the young woman with the shock of fiery hair atop a black and white mare. She rode like a man—sure and capable. It made him smile, if just a little, through his anger.

She had asked him to train her to fight.

And while it would not be the violent outlet that he sought for his rage, it would certainly serve as a distraction. And one he now desperately needed.

Turning from the window, he went to prepare himself for the afternoon. No, Gwendolyn did not deserve the same fate as those around him.

Not yet.

* * *

Gwen was pretty sore when she got off the horse and helped put Nina back into the stables. The armored servants were already taking the saddle and bridle off, brushing her down and tending to her when Gwen came back with two carrots and an apple.

Promises were promises.

Lancelot was still there, and she wondered if he was waiting for her. He was the kind of guy that would have made her mom ecstatic if she’d brought him over for dinner. Tall and handsome with a warm smile. Hell, he was the kind of guy her mom would probably make eyes at when Gwen wasn’t looking.

She held up the second carrot as Nina contentedly chomped away on it. “I always wanted a horse.”

“You never owned one?” Lancelot hummed. “I am surprised.”

“Nah, Dad was allergic. We had goats. It’s much harder to ride those.” She snickered.

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