Page 86 of To Charm a Dark Prince

“Yes. Because you have a tender heart. You have not spent a thousand years listening to himwhine.” He grinned. “If you had, you would understand why his extermination is a kindness to both him and me.”

Shaking her head, she couldn’t accept it. “What can I trade? What can I do? Please, Mordred—I can’t stand knowing it’ll be my fault he’s dead.”

“Your fault? No. Because of you, perhaps. But your presence here is the fault of this ‘Merlin’ character, not you.” He rested a metal hand on her shoulder.

She had forgotten that she was on fire. She couldn’t be doing good things to the floor. Taking a breath, she focused, and put out the flames that she had transformed into. “Please…”

“What would you have me do instead? Send him from the isle? He would wither and die, as all those from Avalon must do if gone for too long.” Mordred took a step back close to her, his other hand tracing his sharpened claws through her hair, just barely grazing her scalp. It sent a shiver down her spine. “Would you have me torture him instead? Break his mind? I think not. A clean death is the more honorable end for him.”

She sniffled, feeling tears stinging her eyes. Man, she hated crying.

“Very well.” He left her then, walking down the hallway in the direction he had been going before she interrupted him twice. “If you will not see him dead, then perhaps there is another choice.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Mordred stopped some thirty feet away and turned to look at her. “Well? Are you not coming?”

Shit, shit, shit.

With a beleaguered sigh, she followed him.

Shit.

* * *

Mordred was now certain that Percival was right. He was not acting like himself. He was instead acting like a complete fool. But it was not for the reasons the Knight in Bronze believed. Percival had accused him of growing weak and tired of his position of power.

It was not that.

It was because of her that he felt himselfbending.And it was like watching an oncoming tidal wave. It was unstoppable. He was swept up in the pull of it, and was certain to drown.

He had never been in love before.

And he could not say that he enjoyed it in the slightest.

But when those fiery, flickering eyes looked up at him in sorrow, pleading with him to show mercy…what could he do, save to grant her wish?

Lancelot would survive—in a manner of speaking. But when Mordred had finished out his punishment, Gwendolyn might come to regret her choice to stand in opposition to him on the matter.

Perhaps it would work in his favor. His firefly had shown him great vulnerability in revealing all her secrets to him. But would she continue to stay loyal? This might be the perfect way to discover whether or not she could be trusted.

She might now be his new weakness, but the chain that bound him to her was still brittle enough to be broken. If he tested its links, it was likely to shatter. So, that was what he would do.

He did not know if he wished it to break or stay true.

He did not know if he wished to love her or not.

But he supposed he would find out before long.

Kicking in the door to Lancelot’s chambers, he stormed in. The Knight in Silver leapt out of his bed. Tripping over his sheets, he toppled to the floor. That was fine. Mordred helped him to stand by grasping a fistful of the man’s hair and began to drag him out of the room.

Gwendolyn was pressed up against the wall, her hands over her mouth. Those fiery eyes were wide in horror and fear. The young thing had likely never seen such violence as she had in his presence. A shame she was likely to experience much more of it in her days.

Some part of him regretted being the one to teach her what Avalon was truly capable of.

Lancelot was shouting, digging in his heels, trying to fight back. But it was useless. Balling up his fist, Mordred punched the man hard in the temple, knocking him unconscious. That would make this all much faster. He had a need to be done with this quickly.

Usually, he would have enjoyed taunting the man.

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