Page 88 of To Charm a Dark Prince

Lancelot was slowly coming around. It took him a few seconds of staring at the Crystal to realize where he was. He let out a terrified moan and tried to scramble away. But Mordred wasn’t having it. Another metal boot to the side, and Lancelot was back on his knees.

“My liege, please—” Lancelot was staring at the Crystal, wide-eyed and horrified. “Please do not do this.”

“It is for the lady to decide. She is the reason you are in this predicament. But make your case as you see fit, I do not care.” Mordred huffed. “Would you prefer the grave, or the Crystal, Silver Knight?”

Lancelot didn’t seem to know what to do with that. He was shaking, his usually tan features pale and stricken. He didn’t even look at them.

Gwen knelt beside him and hugged him, her tears redoubling their efforts to blur her vision. “I’m so sorry, Lancelot—I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this would happen…”

That seemed to shake Lancelot out of it. He hugged her back. “Do with me what you will, but spare her, Mordred. Spare her, if you have even a speck of kindness left in that empty tomb where your heart should be.”

“I have no intention of sending her to join you, unless she follows your path of betrayal.” Mordred was watching them both impassively. As if this didn’t bother him in the slightest. “To date, she has done nothing to warrant imprisonment.”

The message was clear. She hadn’t done anything—yet.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, as she hugged Lancelot tighter.

“This is not your fault. I should have known.” He kissed her cheek and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I have faith you will find a way to free me. To free us all.” He nudged her away. “Go, Gwendolyn Wright. There is nothing you can do to save me from this.”

Nodding weakly, she stood and half-walked, half-staggered away. She didn’t know how she could watch what was about to happen—she didn’t know how she couldn’t.

Mordred held out his clawed hand, its palm facing Lancelot. He tightened it into a fist. There was a feeling in the room like a sudden pressure change. Gwen’s ears popped.

What happened next was going to haunt her for the rest of her life. It was going to be burned into her memory, she knew, and would probably wake her up in the middle of the night for the rest of her days.

It was as though Lancelot’s soul was being sucked out of his body. His very life. In the matter of only a few seconds, he went from being a handsome man to a…a corpse. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes became nothing more than empty cavities. His lips dried, split, and pulled away from his teeth. In only the span of a few heartbeats, Lancelot became a dried, desiccated mummy.

She watched as a strange, glowing mist flew from him to the Crystal, swirling around it before being sucked inside like water down a drain. His body followed suit a second later—breaking down into dust, joining the swirling mist.

It felt like an eternity.

But it had only been a moment.

Fire enveloped Gwen as her panic attack came on suddenly and with no warning. Her head reeled. She collapsed, unable to keep her legs underneath her. Hands, metal and firm, held her shoulders.

Someone was talking to her. Far away and small. Their voice joined with the sound ofscreamingthat came from the Crystal. But it was all falling away from her—or she was falling away from it. She never knew which it was.

Her hands tingled.

The world went mercifully dark.

TWENTY-SIX

Mordred sighed as he lifted Gwen into his arms. The poor thing had not handled Lancelot’s imprisonment well. He honestly could not say that he was surprised. She had burst into flames, forgotten how to breathe, and promptly passed out. Luckily, her fire extinguished itself as she did. Not that it would bother him, but her bed would likely suffer for it.

He carried her back up the stairs from the crypt where he kept the Crystal. Ignoring the stares from the guards, he brought the young woman to her room and laid her down under the covers. Sitting at the foot of her bed was Eod. The hound’s ears were drooped, and he was watching them with large, concerned eyes.

“Comfort her. Protect her.” He patted the dog.

The animal did not hesitate to jump onto the bed and curl into a ball next to Gwen, flopping his large head onto her legs. Eod was a bit obstinate when it came to following commands, but the creature loved strongly and loyally.

Which was more than could be said about himself. He loved Gwendolyn Wright—and look what he had done. Cringing, he left the room and shut the door behind him quietly. He planned to drink himself into a stupor. It was not Lancelot’s removal that twisted in his heart. It was not even the pain it had caused Gwen.

It was what Mordred knew he still had to do before he could be certain of her loyalty. He had to test her. And in doing so…

After making himself a large drink, he slumped down into his chair by the fireplace, vanishing his armor as he did. He had one sip of his drink before there was a knock on the door jamb.

“What?” he asked. He was in no mood.

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