Page 84 of To Love a Dark Lord

Gwen sighed and shut her eyes, shaking her head. “And you’ve told him what’ll happen now?”

“I have.” Iban’s lips thinned into a look of tired consternation. “Eulain’s response was that he did ‘not believe the myths and stories,’ and that he would ‘greet this so-called specter of death himself.’”

She shrugged. “Then it is what it is. We’ve warned him.”

Iban pondered the statement for a moment. “Forgive me for asking, my queen. Perhaps it is because I am still new here, but…is the myth real?”

“That there is a deranged elemental who will murder anyone who dares breaks the peace of Avalon?” She smiled warmly, her tone not matching her words. It was on purpose. She’d had this conversation a lot over the past few centuries. “You could always find out for yourself if you wanted.”

“I—no, I simply…I know those who transgress go missing, I simply did not know if it was you working to do such a thing, or…” Iban shifted in his seat nervously.

“I suppose I would be responsible for it, ultimately, if I let it continue.” Gwen reached over for her goblet of wine, the light from the overhead chandelier of candles glinting off her steel finger. No one dared ask how she lost her finger anymore, and only Tim, Maewenn, and Bert knew. She suspected they enjoyed being on the “in” as much as anything else. Well, that and Tim couldn’t talk.

It wasn’t like she was trying to hide anything. Honestly, she’d had it for so long she honestly forgot it was there. It was just normal to her.

“But no,” she finished. “I’m not responsible for the disappearances. It’s just a myth.”

“Then I suppose he shall find out for himself whether or not the myth of the impossible elemental is true.” Iban reached for his own goblet of wine. “It will be no loss for our people.”

“Do we have any other matters to discuss?” She was tired. Mostly of the conversation, but also in general. She was eager to go to bed. It was late. When no one spoke up, she got up from her chair. “I say we call it a night.”

Her dog Milo snorted awake and climbed out from his spot under the table with a large yawn and a stretch. “Sleepy.”

“Me too, buddy.” She scratched his head between his brown, floppy ears. They all knew she could talk to the animals, so nobody gave her an odd look.

“I should get back to the kids.” Bert stretched before standing as well. “Or else Mae will have my head. Literally.”

Gwen chuckled. “I’m glad she finally let you have your body back after the last time you screwed up. I’d rather not deal with carrying you around again.” Bert had said something or done something—Gwen didn’t even really remember the details—and Mae had shoved his body in a closet and forced him to be hauled around as only his pumpkin head for a week. The two of them made the oddest, but sweetest couple.

Their children were adopted orphans—children who came to Avalon without their parents. It was perfect for the cook, as she had more than just the denizens and visitors of Camelot to care for. Gwen had honestly never seen Maewenn happier.

The rest of the court all made their farewells and goodnights before filing out of the room. When they were finally gone, she headed out herself down the hallway with Milo walking at her side, tail idly wagging, eager to curl up in bed and sleep.

Now and then, she couldn’t help but walk through Camelot and remember what it looked like so long ago. The broken ruins and the fallen beams, grown over with ivy and moss. They had tried to reuse what remained of the original building, using all the salvageable stones or timber they could find. She’d wanted the building to be as much of the original Camelot as possible, including one or two old tapestries that hadn’t fully been claimed by time and weather. The tomb beneath the castle was still there, though, thankfully, no one had been added to its ranks in a very long time. The remains of Percival and Lancelot had been buried in the tomb, along with a golden sword for Galahad. Bors and Tristan she believed were now married and living happily off in the woods somewhere, though they wanted little to do with her, and she respected that.

Gawain had taken up teaching at a local college. It was adorable. Now and then, he’d send her a book or a letter, but they had never been close.

Gwen opened the door to her chambers and wanted nothing more than to crawl into a warm bed and sleep.

It seemed that wasn’t on the cards just yet.

Milo’s ears perked up and he growled low in his throat before running into the darkened room. Someone was there. Summoning Caliburn, Gwen grasped the hilt and readied herself for a fight.

Milo ran to the balcony, growling. The door was open. The sky was starry, and the moon was full, making it almost bright enough outside to see as though it were day.

An imposing figure stood there, cloaked in black, the hood pulled up over its head. The silhouette of a nightmare.

When Gwen drew close, she saw Milo sitting on the ground at the man’s feet, staring up at him in curiosity. A clawed iron gauntlet reached out to pet the dog’s head. Milo grinned, tongue hanging out, and he began to happily pant. “Dad!”

How they knew, she’d never understand. Something in the genetics.

She dismissed the sword back into the ether. “You need to learn to knock.”

Mordred’s quiet chuckle told her that no, he was never going to knock. “I have not met this one yet.”

“His name’s Milo.” She walked out onto the balcony and went to stand beside him. The view from her room was beautiful, overlooking the forests. The sea was just barely visible, shining in the moonlight.

“The elemental named Eulain will die.” Mordred turned to her, his face still obscured in darkness.

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