Page 51 of Enchanted Warrior

Wisps of hair had escaped Tamsin’s long braid and blew like threads of sunlight across her face. He brushed them back, his hand feeling too large and coarse for the delicate job. Gawain couldn’t help a smile. “You may have studied castles, but I’ve lived in them. We should begin our search with the room where such books would be kept.”

“And where is that?” Tamsin smiled. “Since you’re an expert and all.”

“These are valuable books of magic. If the lord of this place has found them, then they will be with his other treasures, close at hand.” He bent and kissed her temple, where the skin was so fine he could see tiny blue veins. “Follow me and stay close. Someone sent those crows to greet us. This place is not deserted.”

She gripped his hand, her long, fine fingers folding over his, and then released him, as if she’d taken what courage she needed. “Then let’s go.”

Gawain looked around the courtyard. He could pick out the granary, bake house, chapel and kitchen. But what he wanted was in the tall keep that overlooked it all. He picked up his salvaged weapons and led the way.

The keep was a square tower with a central stairway. They ascended slowly, stopping often to listen for footsteps or voices, but heard nothing. There were rooms on each floor, and all seemed deserted. A scatter of leaves and dirt had blown in through the narrow windows.

He paused again. Another crow burst from an open window in a flap of wings. The sound startled Tamsin, who clutched his elbow before she could stop herself. She snatched her hand back with a look of apology and nervously wiped her hands on her pant leg. She knew better than to get in the way of his sword arm, but her instinct was to look to him for protection. That felt right to Gawain, and he held on to the notion as he climbed the stairs to the top of the tower, the spear raised to thrust at the first sign of claw or tentacle.

What they found instead was a private room with large windows and comfortable furniture. In contrast to the rest of the castle, it looked as if someone had been there minutes before. A pewter plate and tankard sat on the table. The plate was scattered with crumbs of bread and cheese, the tankard still half-full of dark amber ale. Gawain suddenly felt thirsty though he knew better than to eat or drink anything where magic was present. The room looked restful, even pleasant, but he could feel the thrum of dark energy just under the sunny surface, like a fruit gone rotten beneath an unblemished skin.

Tamsin had fastened on the shelf of books behind the table. There were about twenty—a generous collection when everything was written by hand. She had opened the cover of one and was scanning the Latin text with an ease Gawain admired. “This is a book on demonology,” she said with a mix of wonder and revulsion. “I thought demons were banished.”

Gawain winced. “Merlin banished them from the realms of humans and faeries. The Forest Sauvage belongs to no one but itself. It’s possible one or two might linger here.”

She let the cover of the book fall closed and backed away from the lectern where it sat. “Were the demons truly that bad?”

“Yes,” Gawain said, leaning the spear against the table so he could begin his search. “For all the destruction Merlin caused, I do not blame his instinct to scour them from the world.”

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a drawstring bag sitting on the window ledge, half-buried by a jumble of other items—a hat, a hunting horn and a wadded-up cloak. He lunged across the room and snatched it up.

“I have them.” He passed the bag to Tamsin. “We were right. Nimueh did want us to find them.”

Tamsin’s face lit up with relief as she reached inside to touch the covers, the gesture almost tender. “You’re brilliant.” She reached up, winding her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.

The warm taste of woman went straight to his core as her tongue slid against his, firing needs there was no time to assuage. Still, he pulled her closer, taking her weight against his chest. The green, rich scent of the woods still clung to her hair. He could feel her magic, but in this dark place it felt pure as virgin snow. He stroked down the graceful curve of her back, thinking all the mysteries of the world could be reduced to the geometry of that shape. Everything he needed to know in that moment was here, in his arms, and her name was Tamsin.

Gawain broke the kiss reluctantly, leaving a few of its smaller siblings behind. Finding the books would mean nothing if they couldn’t discover a means of escape. He brushed Tamsin’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Now let’s find a way out of this place.”

“Absolutely.” Tamsin unzipped her backpack and rearranged the contents, adding her own spell book to the cloth bag and zipping it all up again. Gawain idly wondered if the pack had magical properties that allowed it to hold far more than it should, but then he’d seen women do amazing things with their purses, medieval or modern. Finally, Tamsin stood, shouldering the pack. “Let’s go.”

A sixth sense buried deep in Gawain’s core raised a warning flag moments before he heard the smooth, light baritone.

“Not so fast.”

The voice made Gawain’s skin crawl. He followed the sound but could see no speaker. He reached instantly for Tamsin, pulling her close to his side as he turned for the doorway. He’d barely made it three steps before he stopped dead. Tamsin’s gasp said it all.

“It’s bad luck to speak of demons,” said the figure. “It has a way of making us notice you.”

The demon was—at the moment—wearing the face of a man. He was tall, bald but for a tightly clipped black beard, and dressed in robes the shade of drying blood. What gave him away were his pale yellow eyes slitted like a goat’s.

Gawain stepped in front of Tamsin, making his body her shield. “What do you want, hellspawn?”

“The same thing as you. The books. Which you are stealing from my study, by the way.” He stepped aside to peer at Tamsin over Gawain’s shoulder. “That’s not only unwise, it’s downright rude.”

“Those aren’t your books!” Tamsin protested. “The Lady of the Lake sent them here for us to find.”

“That might be true, and then again it might not,” said the demon. “They appeared right in the middle of my courtyard. How am I to know they weren’t meant for me?”

“The books appeared in the courtyard? Along with Mordred’s fae armies?” Gawain scoffed.

“Oh, them.” The demon’s mouth curled in a way that boded no good. “They were seeking the castle’s former master. Apparently the gentleman had something they want.”

“What was that?” asked Tamsin.

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