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“Anytime. That’s what friends’re for, after all. You’re not in this alone. Just remember that.”
Glancing back at the rest of the cart, she smiled. Lina was petting Eod, talking to him quietly in that dorky voice that people only managed to pull off when talking to animals. And Mirkon was reading a book, a contented smile on his face.
She had friends.
And he was right. That was enough for her for now.
“I’ll do everything I can to fix things, Bert. For you and for everyone.”
“That’s all I need to hear.” Bert patted her again on the shoulder before taking the reins in both hands again. “We’ll be at the mountain very soon. Then it’s up to you to find Grinn in the caves before it’s too late.”
Yeah. Stop a demon. With the power of friendship.
She could hear Grinn laughing at her in her head already.
Mordred sat on a small boulder in the camp he had set up for the night. He had chosen Galahad to accompany him and no one else. The other knights would spread out and travel separately. They were not to alert the demon before they were all in place. Mordred had to look weak—the bait in the trap—before he could snap it shut around the bastard.
Staring into the flames, however, he could not help but wish his firefly were there with him. The loneliness clawed at him in a way that he could not have anticipated. It was troublesome in more than one way, however. Not only was he facing his own grief, but he was also burdened with a newfound guilt for the grief he had caused his closest excuse for a friend. There had always been regret and sympathy in his heart for denying Galahad his love—but now he knew its sting firsthand.
Shutting his eyes, he knew what he had to do. His jaw twitched. The rational side of his mind screamed at him that it was foolish; that it would place him at a significant disadvantage. But his honor, his dignity, demanded otherwise.
Standing from the rock, he walked to where Galahad was sitting upon a stump. “On your feet, knight.”
The other man arched a gray eyebrow up at him. “What have I done?”
“Get up, will you?” Mordred rolled his eyes.
“As you wish.” With a slight shrug, the Knight in Gold stood, brushing himself off. He waited with a quizzical expression.
Mordred was not accustomed to looking up at people. He was immensely tall himself, and yet he always felt like a child standing next to the Knight in Gold. Also, upon reflection, that might be for more reasons than simply the height difference between them.
It was neither here nor there.
Holding out his hand, he hovered his palm over the crystal shard that was embedded in Galahad’s chest.
Galahad blinked. “I?—”
“Quiet. I need to focus.” Mordred shut his eyes. It was true—he did not wish to be distracted. Pulling the magic from Galahad’s body, especially after so many years of it being there, was troublesome. But like pin bones in a fish, once he knew how to search for them and pull them away, they came without difficulty.
Soon, all that was left was the shard itself. Part magic, part iron, he had to thread both out of the man’s flesh to keep it from murdering him. That would truly be my luck, would it not? In an attempt to do something noble, I destroy the man entirely.
He tried not to laugh.
Finally, the shard was freed. He simply vanished the iron from whence it came, into the ether. The magic followed suit with nothing to hold it in the physical world.
Galahad let out a breath. He scratched his chest over the linen tunic he wore. “That…I do not…I do not understand, prince.”
“I am no longer your prince.” Mordred shook his head and walked away, slumping down onto the boulder he had been sitting on previously. Exhaustion hit him like a falling tree.
“Why?”
Mordred shut his eyes again. “I bargained with the Gossamer Lady. And, moreover, I find myself tired of pretending that you are my friend. If you wish to see the demon felled, I would have you stand by my side of your volition. Not mine.” He paused. “And I can no longer suffer my own hypocrisy, I suppose.”
Galahad let out a rush of air, and sat down on the stump, still scratching at his chest. “I…do not know what to say. Or what to do.”
“You wish to be with your love. Go. You are free.”
“But I swore an oath to you, all those years ago.”
