Page 68 of Enchanted Warrior

“What in all the hells?” Hector demanded.

And then Tamsin saw Mordred drive his black sword into Gawain’s side. She sprinted from the door, ignoring her father’s bellowed order to stay where she was.

King Arthur was a pace behind.

“Gawain!”Tamsin screamed from somewhere that sounded very far away.

Gawain swayed toward her voice, but he could not raise himself. A chill was stealing inward, robbing his hands and feet of sensation. He cried out, a groan robbed of breath. No more than a rattle.

Figures bolted from the Great Hall into the courtyard, gray shapes that surged in and out of focus. If he could only see Tamsin’s face—but a veil had come down, turning everything dark.

Mordred turned toward the figures. Shocked recognition twisted his face into a snarl. “You!”

The single word, uttered with such hate, snapped Gawain’s world back into focus. He was a warrior, sworn to protect, and his duty was not done. Almost of its own accord, his hand grabbed the hilt of his fallen sword. It felt heavy as lead, but he stabbed the point into the earth between the flagstones and levered himself up. One foot at a time, he forced himself to stand. Mordred paid him no heed, his face turned toward the hall. If Gawain had been able to lift his sword right then, he could have cut him down—but he simply didn’t have the strength.

He turned to see what transfixed his treacherous cousin. A glimpse of familiar blue eyes and a blade-sharp nose was enough. Arthur, his king and friend. Fierce joy flamed through Gawain, straightening his spine despite the pain. Tamsin had done her work. Now there was hope and a way forward.

Tamsin!His eyes found her just yards away, running fleet as a deer toward him. She looked more beautiful than Gawain had ever seen her—her lips parted and eyes wide, all her attention bent his way. She was utterly exposed, a step ahead of Arthur. Gawain’s instincts flared a warning.

Mordred’s power rose and shaped itself to attack—not at Arthur, not yet. He meant to bat Tamsin out of his path, ridding a troublesome obstacle to get to the king. Powerful though she was, Tamsin wouldn’t easily survive another direct attack from the Prince of Faery.

In that instant, all Gawain’s confusion faded. The only thing that mattered was the fact that he loved her. Gawain slashed his sword upward, willing all his forgotten power into the strike. The blade sang with the release of magical energy, a high, clear note that pierced deep into Gawain’s bones. Far above in the sky, the demon replied with a harsh scream of hungry rage.

For a moment all was purity—the autumn sun flashing on steel, the sharp, breathless agony of one final push. Gawain roared his defiance as the edge of his blade connected with flesh and bone. Mordred lifted into the air, howling in surprise. The spray of blood sizzled as it fell, dissolving in the heat of Gawain’s rage made manifest.

Time unwound, suddenly slowed to a dreamlike pace. Mordred fell, eyes wide and staring at the sky. Tamsin ducked away, Arthur pulling her aside to cover her with his body. At first Gawain assumed it was from all that blood, but the sky blackened as the demon swooped again. Gawain fell to his knees, stones hard against the heels of his hands. The jolt shot through him in rainbow shards of pain.

The demon circled overhead, shrieking.

Time surged forward again. Tamsin was there, her slender arms around his shoulders. “Gawain?”

He put a hand to her arm, feeling the life in her. It was sweet and wild, like a berry bursting on his tongue. His magic lunged forward, craving her touch.

But then Gawain recoiled. His power was free, running wild. He could feel it throbbing inside him like a limb coming awake.

Tamsin’s eyes widened. “What? You’re hurt. You need to go indoors.”

He flinched as she reached for his wound. He must not soil her with his black, bloody magic. Must not stir that vile power one bit more.

Her lips pressed together in a stubborn line, but her eyes shone as if she was about to cry. “Don’t fight me now. You need help.”

She didn’t understand. He’d tried to kill his power. Instead, it had just killed for him—again. He hadn’t even needed Excalibur or Arthur to do the job.

Gawain cursed his foolishness. He thought he’d escaped what he truly was, beaten the vile taint of his mother’s blood, but no. He’d just confirmed his own worst fears. He retched, and the pain in his side made the world go black.

Tamsin’s face crumpled as she turned away to speak to someone else. “He’s not cooperating!”

“Let me go, Tamsin,” he whispered.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped. “You’re in no condition to get stubborn on me.”

She was right. The strength he’d found to save her was fading fast. Shock was setting in, his limbs starting to tremble. He clenched his fists, trying to hide it. “You kept your part of the bargain. Take the books. You earned them.”

Shock scattered his thoughts, making it hard to reason. All he knew was that he could not be with her. He loved her too much to burden her with the anguish that consumed him.

“Is that it?” she cried. “The bargain’s over and now you don’t need me? You got what you want?”

For a heartbeat, the words barely penetrated. He was too caught by fury and disappointment at his own failure. But then Gawain drew a mighty breath as reality crashed through his heartbreak. He was hurting her. Tears were coursing down her face. That wasn’t what Gawain meant to do at all, but his body and mind were both failing him. “No, Tamsin. Not what I want. It’s all I can give you.”

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