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There were only so many choices ahead of him. He could keep Gwendolyn as his prisoner while they…what? While they what? Sought to find a way to continue their doomed romance? Could he even forgive her for hiding the truth? Could he learn to trust her again? It was laughable that he was even tempted to try. It would end in more tragedy—more death—he was certain. Most likely hers.
Letting her live out her days on the isle was already a choice not worth considering. There was only one other option. Shutting his eyes, he knew it was the right decision. For her. For him. And for Avalon.
The very least he could do would be to do her the service of telling her in person.
Letting out a breath, he headed off into his keep. He was never one to let matters linger for long. He braced himself for the shouting that was shortly to follow.
He would have to send her back where she belonged.
He would have to send her home.
He loved her. He had vowed that once he had her back, he would never, ever let her go. But to protect her…he had to send her away.
And he would be forced to say goodbye.
Just when Gwen thought her life couldn’t get worse or more complicated, it did.
She stared at Mordred in confused silence.
He had woken her up and sent Eod from the room, shutting the door behind the dog.
Gwen couldn’t process the words that had come out of Mordred’s mouth. It must be because she was still half-awake, sitting up in her bed. “I’m…I’m sorry, what?”
His expression was cold and stern as he watched her. “You are to return to Earth in the morning, Gwendolyn.”
“You—you can’t—” She got out of the bed, her legs still a little wobbly from having Grinn’s elemental power ripped out of her. Everything that had happened the day before was still kind of a blur—the destruction of Caliburn to split Grinn and her apart, the death of Lancelot at Mordred’s hands. None of it felt real. To be fair, none of this had felt truly real since the moment she showed up to Avalon. It was just one impossible event after another.
“Trust me. I can.” His voice was as icy as his expression.
This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. She had to be dreaming! “Don’t send me away, Mordred. Because I…” She needed to tell him how she felt. She needed to. Maybe then, he would understand. Working up the nerve, she decided it was time. She would just rip off the bandage. “I?—”
She never got to finish her sentence. She never got to say the two other important words in that powerful three-word sentence.
Because he was having none of it.
“And why should I listen to you, who have betrayed my trust not once but twice? Most do not see enough mercy to survive the first time, let alone a second.” His hands clenched into fists, the metal creaking. He stalked to the window in her room, turning his attention outside as if he couldn’t even stand to look at her.
“Because—” She felt small. Young. And like an idiot. “I—I didn’t—I was afraid that?—”
“You were afraid that I would sacrifice your life to save all of Avalon from a monster. And yes, perhaps you should have been, Gwendolyn. You do not understand with whom you have thrown in your lot. For all that I am—for all that I am capable of—I am a far better fate for this world to suffer than the demon.” He clearly forced his hands to relax before placing them on the stone sill of the window. But she didn’t miss how his claws dug into the stone, leaving small trenches on the surface.
Sometimes, it was easy to forget how strong he was.
Sometimes, it was easy to forget who he really was. Gwen shut her eyes, biting back tears. “Grinn—he?—”
“Whatever story he told you of his life, he was using to manipulate you. To play your empathetic heart like a lute. He is using you. And how am I to believe he will not do so again? How am I to believe that you would not betray me a third time?” He lowered his head, his shoulders locked, his voice strained.
It was clear he was doing everything he could to keep from charging at her.
“I—I’m sorry, Mordred, I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do.”
“You should have told me the truth. You should have always told me the truth. That is all I have ever asked from you!” He smashed a fist into the stone, cracking the surface. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. Haunted, almost. “Not your loyalty, not your affection—simply that I might, through all of this, dare to trust you.” He lifted his head slowly, staring out the window in front of him. “Tomorrow, you shall return to whence you came.”
Gwen was shaking. The silence felt like a death sentence. She had fucked this up. This was her fault. He was going to send her home, and it was because of her. Swallowing the brick in her throat, she struggled to form words once more. She struggled to tell him how much she loved him.
I love you, Mordred. I love you, please don’t send me away. I don’t think I can go on living without you.
“I—”
