Page 1 of To Love a Dark Lord

ONE

He wanted them dead.

He wanted them all dead.

Mordred knew that he was slowly going insane. Or perhaps he was not losing his mind—perhaps the voices that whispered to him from the dark abyss of his prison were truly there.

Though he could not make out their words, he knew they were mocking him.

It didn’t matter whether the voices were real or figments of his fracturing sanity. The fact that he experienced them—the laughing, jeering yet understandable taunts—was very real.

He wanted them dead.

Yet no matter how hard he screamed into the darkness, at the nothingness, he could not make a single sound. He could not move. Was he even the owner of a body anymore, trapped inside the Iron Crystal as he was?

Did it matter?

Would any of it matter in the end?

It was too soon to surrender.

He had to steel himself. Had to brace himself for the agony that was to come. For he had something to return to. He had someone waiting for him. In the void, he could almost picture her.

Gwendolyn.

His Gwendolyn.

He could let himself dream of her. Of the touch of skin against his. Of her smile, of the sound of her laugh—of the warmth of her body next to his. He yearned for her. Ached for her. In his body, in his soul, and in his heart.

The love he had for her would sustain him.

For it was the only thing he had left.

Gwen needed to raise an army to free Mordred.

Turns out, that was a lot easier said than done.

“Bert.” She put her head down on the surface of the large metal map table in Mordred’s war room. “You’re killin’ me, smalls.”

“I—first, I don’t know what that means. Second, raising an army takes time.” Bert sighed. “We’re doing our best.”

“It’s been weeks.” She shook her head.

“And some people have replied.”

That was true. Everyone had left the keep after Mordred was put into the Crystal—even Galahad and Zoe. But in their place came a smattering of villagers in dribs and drabs in response to Bert’s rallying call. “Fifty people isn’t an army. I can’t do anything against elementals with fifty villagers.”

“But it’s a start of an army.” Bert put his mug down on the table with a thump. “We need to understand that people have lives they’ll be giving up by answering. This will take time.”

“I can’t just…sit here and do nothing.” She sat back up in the chair and ran her hands through her hair. “Who knows what Mordred’s going through? Who knows how much time we have left?”

“He’s at least in one place. He isn’t about to die.” Bert was clearly doing his best to sound reassuring. “We’ll need the time to build the armor like you said—and weapons. Armaments. This isn’t wasted time. And you’ll need to figure out where they’ve hidden the Crystal.”

Letting out a sigh, she pushed up from her chair. “Yeah, yeah…I’m going to go for a walk. See you in the morning.”

“Sleep well, Gwen.”

She waved at him as she left the room. She’d wish him the same, but he didn’t sleep. “Have a good night.”

---