Page 6 of To Love a Dark Lord

Was it not fair, though? There was no question that it was—after all that Mordred had forced others to endure. Galahad had suffered for three hundred years without Zoe at his side.

So the question remained—was fairness enough?

It did not feel that way.

Perhaps he simply mourned for Gwendolyn. Perhaps it would pass in time, as all grief did. Shutting his eyes, he let himself bask in the warmth of the sun. In the chirping of the birds in the trees. In the life and the magic that surrounded him.

A gentle touch on his shoulder roused him. He must have dozed off. Smiling up at Zoe, he took the cup of tea she was offering. “I am growing old.”

“You were old when I met you.” Zoe chuckled as she sat down on the rock next to him, leaning against his arm as she sipped her own tea. “No, my love, you have simply been so tired for so very long and only now have been allowed to rest. Your vigil has ended.”

“Perhaps you are right.” He sipped the tea. It was more floral than the type he had grown accustomed to in the keep, but he was neither surprised nor disappointed. “Whatever will I do with myself?”

“Enjoy your life. Perhaps grow a garden.” She leaned her cheek against him.

“That would be lovely.”

They sat in silence for a long moment before Zoe, as she was always wont to do, prompted him to speak his mind. “What troubles you?”

“Is it so very obvious?”

“In short? Yes.” He could hear the smile in her voice, though he was watching the leaves in the trees sway in the breeze.

“I cannot help but sympathize with what Gwendolyn is tasked with enduring.” Galahad let out a long sigh. “It is not a fate I would wish on anyone.”

“She is resilient. She will survive.” Zoe straightened up so that she could drink her own tea. “Perhaps her heart will change—perhaps she will come to love another. She is young. And her closeness to Mordred was manufactured.”

Galahad frowned down at his love. “You are suggesting that her love was not legitimate?”

“No—simply that the heart is flighty in its youth.” Zoe smiled sadly at him. “I was not your first love, nor were you mine.”

He supposed that was fair. How tragic for Mordred, in the end—to be granted so precious a gift, only to have it taken from him by time. Or, perhaps, by madness. There was no telling what would emerge from the Crystal. Though many had seemed to come out the other side of their imprisonment intact, there was talk of those who…had not been so lucky.

Then there was the complication that the Iron Crystal was Mordred’s own creation. Being trapped inside a cage of his own making might change the weight of its curse. Either for the better—or the worse.

There was no way to know. Not for another thousand years. And Galahad doubted he would live that long, by chance or by choice.

Bowing his head, he kissed the top of Zoe’s. “Let us talk of cheerier topics.”

“Agreed.” Zoe’s smile brightened. “How—” Unfortunately, her words were cut off as someone came from the woods. It was a familiar figure, and one Galahad was not keen to see. And judging by the frown quickly etched on her delicate features, neither was Zoe.

It was Lady Thorn.

Galahad stood, instinctually placing himself between Zoe and Thorn. He could summon his armor and his sword quickly if required, but he hoped it wouldn’t be. “Greetings.”

“At ease, soldier.” Thorn grinned, her missing teeth making the expression more threatening than reassuring. “I come to talk, nothing else.”

“Wonderful.” Galahad could not keep the sarcasm out of his voice, though admittedly he did not try very hard. But he did relax his shoulders. “What do you want?”

Thorn approached, uncaring for the rocks under her bare feet. Her hair was as unkempt as ever. “It is time to choose a ruler for Avalon. The throne has been empty for too long. To keep the peace, someone must wear the crown.”

Galahad felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. “And let me guess…”

“No need.” Thorn’s grin widened. “I come seeking your support. I am the obvious choice—well—so is your wife, but she lacks the conviction or the desire.”

“You speak for me now, do you?” Zoe stepped beside him as she spoke.

“Am I wrong?” Thorn challenged, planting her hands on her hips. Zoe hesitated long enough to give the other woman her answer. “There we have it. I remain the obvious choice.”

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