Page 44 of Enchanted Warrior

Tamsin’s fingers froze in their work. Witchcraft. Medieval magic. A knight named Hector and a plot that had gone into action ten years ago. Shock jolted through Tamsin and she dropped the lid of the jar she was holding. It fell with a clatter, drawing everyone’s attention. “A-are you talking about my father? Hector Greene?”

The moment Tamsin said it, she knew it was crazy. “Never mind. My father was no knight.”

Angmar narrowed his eyes. “You are Sir Hector’s daughter? He was the very best of the Round Table.”

Tamsin ducked her head, embarrassed. “I am Tamsin Greene. My father is dead.”

“Sir Hector did not die,” the fae said gently. “He lived in the mortal realms until it was time to resume his mission to the king.”

Tamsin felt a sudden, hard rush of anger. “He left our family without telling us he was alive?” The sudden fury faded to the hurt of an abandoned child. She folded her hands to hide their trembling.But he is alive. There is a chance I will see him again. Joy warred with pain, leaving her utterly confused.

“If he hid his tracks so completely, he knew it was a desperate move.” Gawain had gone almost as pale as Angmar. The concern in his eyes said he understood every one of Tamsin’s thoughts. “Do we know where Hector went?”

“The Forest Sauvage,” Angmar replied, his voice low with tension. He turned to Tamsin. “It is a place all but forgotten, a wood beyond the mortal world that was made to beguile and confuse. It looks like our land, with the same towns and castles, but it is only a mirror image filled with hidden dangers.”

“How did my father get there?” Needing something to keep her hands busy, Tamsin wrapped a fresh bandage over Angmar’s wound. The familiar task steadied her. Better yet, it let her hide the depth of her distress.

“A portal, much like the one you used to escape the dungeon. The king’s effigy is hidden in the forest.”

“How is this even possible?” she whispered. Her fingers automatically fastened the bandage, but she had no more strength. She sank to the end of the bed, overwhelmed. “How can my father be a knight of Camelot? He was a witch, and he certainly wasn’t—I mean—I would have noticed, right? He taught me to love history, but I had no idea he’d lived it.”

The thought of her father—so completely loving—having lived all those years brought an ache to her throat. Who had he left behind along the way? Had he been happy in this far-flung future? Had he longed to return to Camelot the whole time?

“Gloriana was fae, but she had the good of all the races in her heart. She wanted to ensure the success of Arthur’s plan to safeguard future peace.” Angmar smiled at Tamsin, though his injuries made it crooked. “For that, she required a knight with impeccable character—and one with magical talents of his own.”

Tamsin heard the words but barely understood their meaning. Angmar’s story changed too much of her world at once. She clung to the one thing she knew. “I have to find my father.”

Gawain touched Angmar’s shoulder, his fingers gentle. “Do you know of any portal to the Forest Sauvage?”

Tamsin was eager. “I could open it, just as I did from the dungeon.”

“That was a small portal. The one you need is much more powerful, much more difficult even for a fae. You are strong, child, but not strong enough for that.” Angmar closed his eyes. “Merlin knew. The spell for the portal to the Forest Sauvage is...” He trailed off, succumbing to his body’s need for rest.

Tamsin barely resisted the urge to shake him awake again. “Is what?”

Angmar was asleep. Tamsin stepped back from the bed, an idea already forming in her mind. “The secret to the portal is in Merlin’s books! That’s why my father had to study them.”

Gawain’s hand closed on her shoulder. “Mordred is on guard now. It will not be simple to return.”

“I know. That was our best chance to find the library.” Tamsin stopped, stricken with a sudden, desperate urge to weep—and for privacy. She’d finished with Angmar’s bandages. There was nothing more she could do for her patients right then. “I’m going next door for an hour. I need some real rest.” And then she would think about how to get the books. Finding them had already been vitally important, but now Merlin’s tomes also held the key to a reunion with her father.

Swiftly, she picked clean clothes out of her drawers and made her way to the door of her tiny apartment. She thanked the Fates that had left the apartment next door vacant—it was her best chance to get some space. “Come get me if I’m needed.”

Gawain nodded, watching her go. Perhaps it was wrong to demand time alone, but she had too much to think about. Her body ached with tension as she unlocked the suite next door and dropped her bundle of fresh clothes on the blessedly empty expanse of carpet. For the first time in hours, she had room to breathe.

And then everything crowded in. Waller. The dungeon. The portal. Her father and the fact he was a knight. For some reason, that seemed less strange than that he had left her behind. Her beloved, amazing, tender father had vanished from her life not because of a terrible accident, but of his own accord. An ache as sharp and terrible as a claw worked its way into her throat, leaving her gasping. Tamsin sank to the carpet and began to cry. She hugged herself, unable to think. Unable to do anything but give vent to the pain tearing her in two.

Tamsin didn’t hear Gawain enter. She started when he slipped a blanket around her and pulled her into his warmth. He’d changed back into modern clothes, and the softness of an old sweatshirt cushioned her as she leaned into his chest. They had fought, true, but he was silently offering a truce. Instead of quieting her, though, the feel of his strong arms around her made her sobbing worse. It didn’t seem to matter. Rather than pull away or try to hush her, Gawain held on, letting her weep. When she finally stopped, he said nothing, waiting until she was ready to speak.

“He was my father,” Tamsin said, her voice thick and cracked from crying.

“I know.” Gawain’s hand cupped the back of her head, keeping her close.

“Why did he leave?” She hated the forlorn note in her voice.

“Hector wouldn’t go without reasons.”

“Reasons to leave his family?”

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