Page 32 of To Love a Dark Lord

“You mourn the loss of those who died, but you won’t do anything to stop it, will you? If I asked for your help in stopping Thorn instead of Mordred, would you get involved?” Gwen was getting really sick of everybody’s games. And while she’d like to think of Zoe as a friend, after she cast Mordred into the Crystal…she wasn’t so sure.

“I—I fear I must remain neutral in that matter.” Zoe shook her head.

“But you’ll interfere here by trying to stop me. You’re fine with a bunch of villagers getting slaughtered while Thorn makes a play for power, but you don’t want me to stop Mordred because elementals might die?”

“It is not ‘might,’ Gwendolyn. We will all die. Galahad. Myself. Many others.” Zoe fluttered her wings, floating a few feet closer. “And you are at peace with this?”

“I don’t want anybody to die!” Gwen felt the fire erupt around her, setting her ablaze. See you later, clothing. She’d make herself more before she flew off. The last thing she wanted to do was fly over Avalon butt-ass naked, although it’d make for a hysterical show. “I haven’t wanted anybody to die since I got here, but nobody listens to me. Lancelot didn’t have to die. Neither did Grinn. But here we are. I can’t step over the bodies of hundreds of innocent souls because you want to protect the twenty or thirty elementals who aren’t assholes, I’m sorry.”

“And none of this has anything to do with the fact that you are in love with Mordred?” Zoe’s lips turned into a small sneer, her first expression of derision. If Gwen wasn’t mistaken, her normally magenta-pink eyes were slowly turning black.

Great.

Just great.

“Of course it has something to do with it. If Galahad were locked away, losing his mind, you’d try to free him too.” Before Zoe could counter, Gwen cut her off again. “I know! I know. I know they’re different men. I get it. But I’m going to go free him, Zoe. I’m sorry.”

“It seems Thorn is not the only one with designs on the throne.” There was a strange undercurrent to Zoe’s voice. Like a rumble, almost, undercutting her normally sweet and wistful tone.

“I don’t want the throne. I don’t want anything except to live in peace in the keep with Mordred, and to know that people aren’t dying in the streets because of a turf war between over-powered morons.” Gwen clenched her hands into fists at her sides.

“You sweet, naive child. You are at the same crossroads that Mordred found himself so long ago. When peace cannot be found, will you accept the blood on your hands?” The grass around Zoe began to shift and change, turning black and curling over as if from a blight. It circled her, slowly growing larger, spreading out like veins through the plant life.

“I can deal with Mordred.”

“You do not sound so sure.”

“That’s my fucking problem, not yours.” Gwen gestured her hand. For a moment, she didn’t know why. But when she was suddenly holding a sword made of fire, she let out a small huh of surprise. Cool. She could summon fire weapons. Neat.

“Charming that you maintained some of your connection to the flame. It will not help you.” Zoe sighed. “Standing against me is pointless. If you were to free Mordred, I would be forced to destroy him.” Zoe picked up the end of the necklace she wore—the iron shard. The one that Mordred had made, with the power to hurt him. “History will merely repeat.”

“Not if I take that thing off of you.”

“I believe you will try. And I believe I will be forced to kill you if you do. You do not even know the extent of your own gifts. You are young, Gwendolyn. Put all this tragedy behind you. Think no more of Mordred and look toward the future. When Thorn falls, I will—” Zoe stopped.

Gwen took a step back, more out of surprise than anything else. “Oh. Oooooh…I get it. You plan on letting Thorn duke it out, probably die, and then you will take the throne of Avalon.” Laughing, she shook her head. “Wow.”

“It is mine by right. It was mine long ago. Before he came. Before the human Arthur arrived and I was forced to surrender it.” Zoe bared her teeth in a grimace. “I am Avalon. I am its true ruler. I have been patient—I have waited—I have been graceful and kind. I will not go to war to seize it. But when all lies defeated, I will reclaim my crown.”

There was no talking her way out of this one. “I fucking hate politics,” Gwen muttered under her breath. “Give me that necklace and I’ll be on my way. We don’t have to fight.”

“You are going nowhere, Gwendolyn. Neither shall you have this necklace.” Zoe lifted her chin in defiance. “Swear to me you will not seek to free him, and you will live. Give me your word.”

“You aren’t getting it.”

“Then I fear there is no way around this.”

Tilting her head to one side and then the other, Gwen cracked her neck. She was still sore from sleeping on the rough ground. “Awesome. Let’s go.”

Sparring with Mordred was nothing like fighting with Zoe. Fighting Mordred was like fighting a tank with legs. Unstoppable, but in one place at a time. Zoe, however, was like fighting a ghost. The woman blinked in and out of existence. Every time Gwen jumped forward with a slash of her sword or threw a fireball at her, the butterfly-winged woman disappeared.

But Zoe wasn’t playing full defense either. Gwen yelped as something stung her arm. A thin black object, as skinny as a needle, had gone through her fire and dug into her bicep. Hissing in pain, she yanked it out, and watched it crack and burn like a wood splinter.

Snarling, Gwen gritted her teeth, and her fire changed colors—burning hotter. “Try that again, bitch.”

Zoe did. This time, the vicious splinters of wood incinerated before they reached her. Zoe’s now-black eyes went a little wider.

Gwen launched herself at Zoe, swinging her sword, but only met empty air. It was pointless trying to fight her like that. She had to try something else. But what?

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