Page 49 of Enchanted Warrior

“Mordred has been a stone in my shoe for too long.”

“As he has been a thorn in mine,” said the fae. “But I cannot let you have him. In recompense, I will smooth your path to your king. That is the surest path to justice, Sir Gawain.”

“How is walking away justice?”

Nimueh held up her hand, stopping his protest. “You were witch-born, and the one among the stone sleepers destined to wake first. Don’t stray from your path now, Prince of Lothian. Mordred will get his reward, or I am the Lady of the Lake no more.”

As the fae spoke, Tamsin slowly clambered to her feet. Her knees wobbled, but the pain had stopped. “Gawain?”

He turned, eyes widening, and sprang to her side. “Are you well?” He touched her face, as if unsure she was real.

“She lives,” said Nimueh, her voice cool. “If you do not leave quickly, that will change. The fae will feel the death of their brothers and send more soldiers.”

“Let us have the books,” begged Tamsin.

“That is not possible,” Nimueh replied. “My oath to the queen prevents it.”

The bag of books lay on the floor between Tamsin and the fae. Tamsin dove for it, but Nimueh blocked her with an upraised arm. Tamsin ducked, but Nimueh was eerily fast. She snatched up the bag, chanting words of power in a clear, ringing voice. For an instant, Tamsin saw the magnificent creature she had been—a noblewoman among fae, mistress of the Lake of Enchantment.

Nimueh hurled the books toward the portal with the speed and force of an athlete. Tamsin cried out, leaping to catch the prize, but missed. A blue-white flash bleached the tiny room, bright as a flare but freezing cold. The brilliance blinded Tamsin and she curled over, sheltering her face with her arms. From where she huddled on the floor, she felt cold, fresh air on her hands as if someone had opened a door. Tamsin’s first impression was of ice, as if all the heat in the world had been sucked away. There was a giddy moment of weightless nothing, wherehereandtherewere empty ideas. The white light flowed around them, so intense that Tamsin thought she was drowning in the brightness. Gawain was the only solid thing in that place, his arm hard with muscle as it tightened around her...

And then they were standing in a grassy meadow with the sun splashing down in thick golden bars through early-morning mist. Tamsin spun around. The portal was gone, but her backpack lay at her feet.

“What just happened?” she demanded. “And where are the books?”

Gawain looked around, his hands on his hips so that his dark cloak gave him a square silhouette. “At a guess, the Lady of the Lake redirected your portal to send us to the Forest Sauvage. The books are here, too, I suppose. Somewhere.”

The Forest Sauvage. What had Angmar called it?A place all but forgotten, a wood beyond the mortal world that was made to beguile and confuse.And then there was that bit about hidden dangers. Well, wasn’t that comforting?

The fact that Nimueh had the power to pull a stunt like that didn’t make Tamsin feel any easier. Fortunately, the Lady of the Lake seemed to dislike Mordred enough to help them.

Tamsin shrugged her coat more closely over her shoulders and picked up her pack. The day was sunny, but there was a cool dampness in the air. Dew glittered on the long grass and picked out a spider’s web in the branches of the tree above them. Apples weighed down the tree branches and perfumed the air with heady sweetness. They were in an orchard.

“Was sending us here what Nimueh meant by smoothing the path to your king?” she asked.

“I expect so,” Gawain replied, then gave her a searching look. “Are you well? After what Mordred did?”

She ran a hand through her hair. It had been the most awful violation imaginable, but this was no time to dwell on it. If she did, she’d crumble—and that was the least helpful thing she could do right then. “I’ll survive.”

“Good.” The word was simple, but his expression said a thousand things more.

“This must be someone’s land,” she said, changing the subject before she started to cry. “Look, there’s a castle!”

Though it was hidden by a stand of oak trees, Tamsin could make out the tops of two blocky towers of stone. “Do you know who lives there?”

Gawain rubbed his jaw. It was dark with stubble. “Once it belonged to the king, but it is hard to say who dwells there now. In the Forest Sauvage, things are rarely as they seem. However, it is as good a place as any to begin our search.”

They began walking toward it. Gawain moved easily, as if all the empty space of the countryside was a relief. He kept Tamsin close beside him, his fingers brushing hers and twining through them as they walked. At any other time, it would have been a delightful country stroll. Birds flitted from tree to tree in busy flocks. It was autumn, but earlier than at home.

“There are fresh hoofprints,” Gawain said, indicating the grass. “A company of riders passed this way not long ago.”

Shortly after, they saw a riderless horse in the distance, but no indication of other people. Though she said nothing, that detail made Tamsin uneasy.

It did not take long before the castle emerged from behind the trees. A drawbridge led over a wide moat that reflected the towers and the sky with still perfection. Tamsin looked at the brooding gates and imagined all the monsters of the Brothers Grimm lurking inside. It was impossible to see past the thick arch of stone and the massive, iron-strapped doors that were at least three times the height of a man.

Gawain drew his sword. “Stay behind me. I’m the one wearing armor.”

Tamsin didn’t argue. At least he wasn’t ordering her to say behind and alone in the orchard. Crossing the drawbridge didn’t make the specter of the towers any better. The stone seemed to darken as they approached, as if there was a blight clinging to the gray granite. As Tamsin looked up and up, the looming spires of rock blotted out the sky. Every instinct she possessed said magic dwelt within, and it wasn’t kindly.

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