Page 5 of To Love a Dark Lord

She loved him. And he loved her. And how could she sit here with her thumb up her butt while he rotted and the elementals plotted her death?

She knew that a war was inevitable, that she would have to stand up for Bert and the villagers. But now?

How could she go on, pretending her soul wasn’t shattered?

No.

No, she couldn’t stand this.

She couldn’t just go about her business like nothing had happened. Like Mordred’s absence wasn’t going to haunt her every waking moment of every day. She didn’t know how Galahad had put up with Zoe being trapped in the Crystal. He was stronger than Gwen was—because she wasn’t going to make it two months.

Freeing Mordred would start total war. She would be firmly picking the side of the Prince in Iron—which would turn all the elementals against her. Bert and his folks might still stay by her side, but it was doubtful.

Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath. This felt like a stupid decision. But fuck, if it didn’t feel like the right decision. And one that she was making on her own, for a change. She was sick and tired of people pushing her around. Of people leading her by the nose, forcing her to go along with their plans. She was done. Just done. No more.

She was going to free Mordred. She was going to face off against all the elementals of Avalon if she had to. She didn’t care anymore. And she was going to do all of it because she wanted to. Because it was her decision.

No one else’s.

She was the witch of Avalon, after all.

Maybe it was time she started acting like it.

Rolling onto her back, she reached a hand up toward the ceiling. Shutting her eyes, she closed her fingers into a fist as if grasping a veil of fabric up above her. Mordred was out there. They had spoken in their dreams a dozen times. And even though the magic that bound them might be gone, their bond was not.

He was out there.

And she was going to find him.

Now.

TWO

The feeling of the sun against his face was something Galahad would never tire of. After missing it for so long, it felt like a blessing to have it returned to Avalon. He sat upon a rock in front of Zoe’s home, leaning against the thatch and plaster wall of the ancient structure. The wooden strapping that the plaster was smoothed over showed here and there through the worn surface, revealing its structure to be little more than twigs mixed in with whatever the original builder could find—horsehair, hay, and the rest.

The holes for windows had no glass but only thick fabric drapes to hold out the weather and block the light when needed. The chimney had a faint cloud of white smoke that always seemed to be drifting from its top. The roof was thatched, and he often needed to patch holes that formed with time. Zoe often teased him for rarely needing a ladder to access it.

The building would look crude to some. But to him? It felt like home.

The surface was warm against his back—he was not wearing his armor. He had no need of it and hopefully never would again.

If he never had to lift his sword once more, he would live out the rest of his years a happy man. Zoe was inside, humming as she made tea for them, the scent of the woodsmoke and the steeping leaves mixing with the crisp fall air.

Galahad was happy.

Or rather, he should have been.

Yet, like a single dark cloud blotting out the sun in an otherwise beautiful blue sky, something was wrong.

Galahad felt as though he was adrift amongst his dreams. For so long, this had only been a place he could visit again while sleeping. Only there had his love been with him, though she had been a figment of his mind.

This had been his wish for over three hundred years—to see her again. And to be free of the curse that Mordred had placed upon him? He never thought it would come to pass. But here he sat, free of the Prince in Iron. Free to be with Zoe. Free to do as he wished.

Free.

Then why was there such an ache in his heart?

He had served his dues. He had done all he could to stay true to his honor. It was not his fault that Mordred was trapped within the Crystal—it was justice. But the look on Gwendolyn’s face as Zoe and Galahad departed the keep with the Crystal in tow…did not feel like justice.

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