Page 23 of To Break a Dark Cage

Gwen hated to admit it, but she hadn’t even made it twenty-four hours on Avalon before somebody wanted to use her to hurt the Prince in Iron. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. She supposed she should apologize for being so angry with him.

If she ever got the chance.

“You aren’t taking her anywhere, Thorn. You can find your own way to needle the prince without hurting her.” Doc folded his arms across his chest. “Heh. Needle. Thorn. Whatever. Anyway—you won’t touch her. It’s because of her you’re free of the Crystal in the first place. You should be grateful.”

“And I am. But if you think I will let that bastard rampage through Avalon a second time, you do not know as much as you pretend to, mage.” Thorn bared her teeth like a wild animal. “He has resurrected the Iron Crystal. His abominations are on the march with it as we speak.”

“He seeks the demon, you know this. If you do not interfere, he’ll leave you be.” Doc sighed. “But you won’t listen. You want revenge. And I won’t let you use her to get it.”

“It is not like you to interfere.” Thorn tilted her head to the side, studying him as if he had done something interesting. “Why is she so important?”

“She isn’t.”

Gwen tried not to take that personally.

Doc continued. “Which is precisely why I can interfere right now.”

“Then I will kill you and take her.” Thorn took a step toward them. But she froze when the sky overhead quickly turned black, and a loud roll of thunder filled the air. She snarled at him.

“I would like to see you try.” Doc had a tone in his voice that Gwen had never heard before. Cold. Hard. And ancient. “Do you wish to die here, Lady Thorn?”

The elemental hesitated before taking a step back. She spat on the ground in front of her. “You will regret this, you old fool.”

The sky slowly began to lighten. “We’ll see.” Doc was back to his obnoxiously smartass self. “C’mon, Gwen. Let’s go. She won’t be a problem.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Gwen didn’t believe him.

Lady Thorn stepped back into the overgrowth and vanished—the vines following a moment later. Eod walked up to where she had been standing, sniffed and growled.

Letting out a breath, Gwen followed after Doc as he simply walked around the concrete wall like all this was perfectly normal. “How many more people are going to be trying to murder me or use me for bait?”

“Oh, probably everybody we meet from now on.” He smiled over his shoulder at her. “But I’ll protect you for now.”

Eod barked cheerfully as if saying, Me too. She really was concerned that the dog spoke English. Or at least understood the wizard more than he had any right to.

“For now?” She arched an eyebrow.

“You’re still mortal. And easily broken. I’ll do my best, but I can’t stay with you forever.”

She supposed that was fair. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried not to think too hard about what had just happened. Now she had another concern to add to her list—that she really might pose a risk to Mordred. What if somebody captured her? Would he lay down his life to protect her? Could she ever live with herself if he did? Well, that last bit probably wasn’t a concern. She wouldn’t live long enough for that to really be an issue.

A dog, a madman, and a mortal with a target painted on her back.

Yeah, she was pretty much fucked.

Mordred rode on his horse along the road, hearing the thud of the giant arachnid behind his armored soldiers. The rhythmic clanking of metal as his forces marched in unison was a familiar sound. Familiar, but not entirely welcome. How many more centuries would he endure of warfare? How much longer before he could lay down his sword and live in peace?

Never.

Not until the grave.

His dream from the previous night lingered in his thoughts. It was a shadow made by the magic he placed inside of her—veiled and hardly as good as the waking world. But she was safe on Earth, and he could take solace in that.

While his thoughts lingered upon Gwendolyn, another issue was closer to mind. The demon’s whereabouts were still unknown, despite his knights’ incessant searching. He was lying low; likely licking his wounds and building his strength.

Mordred would have to flush him out.

But how? There was nothing in the world the demon desired, save for total death and destruction.

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