Page 28 of Enchanted Warrior

“Then have another. There’s no shortage of mortal cattle.”

“No,” she replied with a dismissive flick of fingers. “Those who’ve taken that road cannot stop. They become the fae version of a drunkard seeking their next bottle. It lacks dignity.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged.

But Nimueh knew she was right. Addiction was Mordred’s ticket to controlling her kind. Once the fae were trapped, he had a system of reward and punishment to exploit. She refused to step into that snare.

Again, a faint shudder of distaste passed through her. It wasn’t quite an emotion, but the echo of one. Such episodes came and went like the tingling of a lost limb, leaving her with a sense of profound disquiet.

Mordred was pacing, his mind obviously on other things. “You failed against the witch.”

“You failed to tell me that she is strong.”

“Of course she’s strong. She escaped me,” Mordred snapped.

Perhaps that was why Nimueh had abandoned the field and let Tamsin Greene go free. The idea of a young witch no one had heard of—one wily enough to escape Mordred—had stirred what remained of her curiosity. In another time, she might even have hoped.

“You should have crushed her,” Mordred added.

“Maybe.” Nimueh turned back to the window and the greenery beyond. “I’ll try harder the next time our paths cross.”

Was that why she’d dropped her car keys? To leave a clue the witch and her knight could follow and maybe, just maybe, put an end to the Prince of Faery?

Mordred caught Nimueh’s arm, digging his fingers into her flesh as he forced her to face him. “Indeed, you shall try harder. And while you’re thinking of all the ways you are going to carry out my orders to the letter, perhaps you can assist me with some housekeeping. There is another mess I need to clean up.”

He waved his free hand through the air, describing an arc that shimmered and then darkened into a doorway between place and time. With Nimueh still firmly in his grip, he dragged them through. She felt the kiss of cold, clammy air on her face, and the elegant Victorian parlor disappeared. All at once, she stood in Mordred’s dungeon, deep underground beneath the hills of the faery kingdom.

Nimueh looked around, certain here at least it was better to be numb. The dungeon was vast and dark, honeycombed with tiny caves that served as cells. Roots crawled through the dirt walls and ceiling of the caves and twined around the limbs of the helpless prisoners, trapping them in damp, black oblivion. Scuttling things rustled in the shadows, the hard shells of their bodies scraping as they passed. Scavengers, Nimueh supposed. There was plenty of dead meat down here in Mordred’s playrooms.

“You have been keeping busy,” she observed.

“Housekeeping.” Mordred smiled, but there was nothing pleasant in the expression. “A few of your people still had opinions about my mother taking the throne.”

The rebels who had escaped Merlin’s spell. “I see.”

“Do you?” There was threat in the two words. “I wonder if you understand the brilliance of my plans. Conquering the mortal realms is a question of stealth. I could bring an army, thousands of fae warriors, but there is an easier way. The modern world is different from old Camelot. For all their fancy weapons, humans are even less prepared now than they were in the so-called Dark Ages.”

He was right there. In the old days, every peasant knew monsters were real and most had a few charms around the house for basic protection. “So you do not plan on a full-scale invasion?”

“No. A handful of fae here and there, strategically placed where the power brokers can fall prey to their beauty and influence. I’m thinking corporate boardrooms, political functions, cocktail parties for the rich and famous. No one will notice the soulless among them.”

“And then what?”

“Once the right people are under fae power, numbers won’t matter. Armies and weapons won’t matter. The human realms will be mine for the taking.”

As plans went, it wasn’t bad. Still, Mordred had forgotten his mother. The mortal realms would ultimately be hers. Unless he meant to fight her for them? That could get interesting.

They’d reached a long row of cells. Nimueh noticed a spider the size of a dinner plate webbing one of the entrances shut. She turned away. “Why are we here? You said there was a mess to clean up?”

Mordred waved her forward. She went, although her feet refused to hurry toward whatever he had to show her.

“I thought, after your unsuccessful venture to capture the witch, that perhaps it was time to review our plans,” Mordred said smoothly. “I find it useful to clarify priorities from time to time.”

Nimueh stopped when she came to the end of the tunnel. There was a figure huddled in the last cave in the row of cells.

“I find explanations go better with visual aids.” Mordred nodded toward the bound form.

“Angmar,” she said softly. The fae was bound to the earth with so many pale, twining roots that he was immobilized. Even so, he’d been in a recent fight because there were savage bruises wherever his clothing was torn away.

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