Page 45 of To Love a Dark Lord

“What do we do now?” Lina frowned. “I mean, I don’t—for the record, I don’t think he’s wrong. Thorn needs to be stopped.”

“And what about Zoe? What about everyone who’ll come next?” Gwen accepted a glass of wine from Bert as he passed the bottle to his friends.

Everyone was silent as they considered what was coming.

“You said you’d stop him, if he tried to go too far.” Bert’s tone was quiet, obviously not wanting to rub salt in a wound, but needing to say it all the same.

“I know. I know. And I’ll try.” She wanted a long, hot bath. And another whole bottle of wine to herself. “And if it comes to it, I’ll…” She gritted her teeth. “I’ll do what I promised to do. I’ll drop him.”

“How?” Lina furrowed her brow.

“I have a way. I just…I can’t talk about it.” She’d kept her powers over iron a secret until now. She wasn’t about to blow her cover just yet. Standing, she went and fetched another bottle of wine and uncorked it. “We’ll talk about this in the morning. If we agree Thorn has to die, I say we let him do what he has to do. Then…then I’ll see if I can talk him down. And if I can’t, so be it.”

She wanted to be sick at the idea. But she knew this was the mess she was getting herself into.

“Sounds like a plan.” Bert paused. “I’m going to go see if Maewenn needs any help.”

There was something in the way he said it. “Wait.” Gwen stopped and turned to face the scarecrow. “Wait. Are you crushing on the cook?”

“I—I’m—no.” It was clear the answer was yes, yes, he was.

Gwen grinned. “I’m not sure how it’d work between you two?—”

“It’d sound like throwing armor downhill in a barrel,” Mirkon interjected with a grin. Lina smacked him in the chest. “Ow!”

Gwen ignored the comment. “But I say, go for it. Fingers crossed for you.”

Bert muttered as Lina and Mirkon kept teasing him. With a half-hearted wave, she said goodnight and headed into the keep. She wanted to find that hot spring down in the basement. She’d had a long, chilly few days. And she was relishing the idea of getting drunk and having a nice soak. Eod was contentedly chewing on a piece of stew bone by the fireplace, and seemed fine where he was.

So, off she went. The halls were definitely more lively than she’d ever seen them before. Villagers had taken up portions of the keep—respectfully so. They weren’t crammed in there anywhere that could fit, and none of the furniture looked moved or messed with. In fact, they seemed to be doing a perfectly fine job picking up after themselves.

And nobody stank, as far as she could tell.

Though it was obvious the iron soldiers didn’t quite know what to do with themselves. One of them was standing perfectly still, clearly nervous as hell, as a pack of children tried to climb him like a tree. She laughed to herself as she passed them.

It was nice.

The place felt decidedly less spooky with a few more people in it. Galahad would have loved it. Even Lancelot would have enjoyed the chance to show off a bit and teach the villagers how to properly use a sword. The thought of Lancelot ruined her mood instantly.

She found the hot spring a little while later and, placing the bottle of wine down at the edge of the pool, stripped off her clothes and vanished her wings before climbing into the water. They were fun, and it took more of her focus to keep them gone than it did to have them, but they tended to get in the way sometimes.

Taking a sip from the bottle, she leaned back against the stone edge and stretched out. Letting out a long, beleaguered sigh, she let the heat of the water sink into her. She shut her eyes. Peace and quiet. For just a moment.

“Mind if I join you?”

So much for that.

Looking up, she watched as Mordred entered the room.

“Depends.” She couldn’t help but stare as he began to strip off his clothes.

“Just…let me get drunk, will you?” She took another sip of the bottle. “I need to dull the edges.”

“You misunderstand me.” He climbed into the water beside her before leaning over her to grasp the bottle, caging her in. “I intend to join you in that as well.” He took a mouthful of the liquid before putting the bottle back. He trailed his lips close to her ear before whispering to her, “Unless you protest…”

Maybe it was the hot water. Or the glass of wine. But her head swam, and excitement and anticipation twisted in her stomach like two angry snakes.

“I guess you can stay.” She felt her cheeks grow warm. She blamed the hot water. Totally the water.

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