Page 50 of Enchanted Warrior

About halfway across the drawbridge, Gawain tensed, looking up as a flock of crows swarmed from the western tower window. They spiraled and turned, a croaking, flapping mass of jet-black wings, and then dove for the drawbridge. Gawain pulled Tamsin low, shielding her with his body. Even so, she heard the hum of wind through feathers and felt the vicious stab of a beak as it plucked at her braid.

It was over in a moment, but it left her rattled. “What was that?”

“Messengers,” Gawain said darkly. “The entire forest will soon know we’re here.”

And that meant someone had seen them. A cowardly corner of Tamsin’s soul balked when they reached the massive doors of the castle gate. They were open just far enough for them to slip through one at a time. Gawain went first, Tamsin hard on his heels. The castle walls framed the courtyard, making a large and perfect flagstone square dominated on the far side by the main castle keep.

They’d barely set foot inside when they both froze in their tracks. They’d found the riders, though none of the horses were there. Bodies littered the courtyard, sprawled in their own blood. Tamsin dragged in a breath. The gulp of air should have revived her, but the taste of slaughter washed over her tongue instead.

Gawain was on alert, sword raised and scanning every inch of the yard. “Get back out the door.”

“We’re giving up?”

“The blood is still wet. Whatever did this is still nearby.”

That was good enough for Tamsin. She lunged for the door but stopped dead. “The doors are shut and there’s no handle on this side.”

There was definitely magic here, and they were trapped.

Gawain didn’t falter. “Then get your back to the wall and start looking for movement. If you see something, call out.”

Tamsin complied, though it took a long moment before she calmed her mind enough to look closely at the scene around her.

“There’s got to be dozens of soldiers here,” Tamsin murmured. “Who were they?”

Intent on searching out the enemy, Gawain didn’t answer. He was looking for the living, though nothing stirred but the breeze. Tamsin shifted her weight nervously. She couldn’t stay cowering by the gate. If she did, she’d freeze there like a terrified rabbit, unable to move ever again. Instead, she would answer her own question.

While Gawain prowled in ever-widening circles, Tamsin forced herself to take the dozen steps to reach the nearest of the fallen men. She crouched beside him, her healer’s senses telling her he was unquestionably dead. Even so, her muscles coiled, ready to spring at the slightest twitch.

The man’s features were invisible behind the bucket-like helmet. It had slits instead of a visor, making it impossible to peer inside. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the helmet and pulled. It came off an inch at a time to reveal the honey-brown skin and white hair of a faery. The lean, beautiful face looked almost serene.

“What are you doing here?” she wondered aloud.

More to the point, who had stopped Mordred’s army? Who was badder than the bad guys?

ChapterNineteen

Moving among the bodies, Gawain picked up a shield painted as bloodred as the massacre around them. There were a dozen things, from arms to water skins to a decent horse, that they’d need to survive in this land. He’d start with the weapons. From another corpse, he took a spear that was unbroken. He tested its balance and approved of the workmanship. With no wasted motion, he sheathed his sword. A spear was of little use in close quarters, but he wanted the reach. Whatever monster had slaughtered the faeries, it had claws and teeth, and fighting it would take all his skill. Anticipation sang in his blood.

As he continued scavenging, he checked to make sure Tamsin was close. By now, it was pure habit—he always seemed to know just where she was, as if they were joined by an invisible chain.

“Come here,” he said. “I’ve found you a knife.”

She drew nearer, but paled when he bent to clip the leather sheath to the belt of her jeans. He looked up, reading the expression in her dark brown eyes. “Take it. I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t need it for anything but slicing apples.”

“Thank you,” she said, her skin so bloodless he could see the fine freckles across the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know how to use a knife in a fight.”

The simplicity of the statement wrung his heart. She was as gentle as she was courageous, a healer at heart. “It’s only as a last resort.”

He finished buckling on the knife and rose. Tamsin lifted her chin, following his movement with a fearful intensity. Despite her powers, despite her bravery, he was the only protector between her and this brutal reality. The thought nearly stopped his breath. He reached up, running his thumb along the clean line of her jaw and over the rose-petal softness of her lips. She sighed at his touch, the warmth of her breath almost lost to the hard, scarred flesh of his hands. All the weapons he’d handled, all the wars he’d fought had taken a toll.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

Gawain didn’t have a good plan, so a bold one would have to do. “Nimueh put us here for a reason. We’ll search the castle and maybe we’ll find out why. Maybe we’ll find Merlin’s books. She couldn’t give them to us, but perhaps a scavenger hunt isn’t against the rules.”

“She attacked me before in the church,” said Tamsin. “Why is she helping us now?”

Gawain frowned as the fae’s words came back to him:Mordred will get his reward, or I am the Lady of the Lake no more.“Mordred crossed her. He never knew how to keep allies, much less friends.”

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