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“Yeah, yeah. But you won’t.” He glanced down at the ground and made a face. “Shit, I hate heights.”
Shaking her head, she stared back ahead at the world as it flew by her. Luckily—or unluckily, as the case may be—it didn’t take long before Tiny was circling lower toward the ruins of Camelot. As they landed with a heavy thud, she saw figures in the trees, all standing warily in the shadows. Elementals, she assumed.
It was weird, knowing she was being stared at. It was a hideously uncomfortable feeling. She’d had a nightmare once, about going to prom naked, and this was basically that, only real. She climbed off Tiny with Doc not far behind her. The dragon let Eod out of his mouth before finding a bigger spot to curl up and nap.
All right, it was kind of endearing. Big, terrifying, evil-looking dragon, just wanted to be left alone to nap. What a mood.
Eod wagged his tail as he ran up to her, licking her hand. She smiled, scratching him on the head. Folding her wings around her like a cape, she decided it was best to just get this over with. Straightening her shoulders, she braced herself for what was to come as she walked into the decrepit ruins.
The last remains of the life of King Arthur. Wooden beams were rotting away and falling, resting on stone walls that were crumbling and overgrown with vines and ivy. The last time she had seen it, it had been cloudy—before the Iron Crystal had been destroyed. Now, it was weirdly picturesque with the morning sun casting rays of sun and shadow through the cracks and across the beams.
The castle was crowded. Groups of elementals, as wild as anything she could have dreamed up, were lining the space. Creatures of rock, lava, ghastly things that looked almost like ghosts—and everything in between. One woman looked as though her eyes were made purely of electricity. Her hair was a shock of white, cut short and left spiky and sticking out at all angles.
She smiled at Gwen.
Gwen smiled back, if faintly.
Maybe they aren’t all terrible.
Then again.
There was Lady Thorn, leaning up against a column, her arms crossed over her chest. She was alone, glaring down at the floor between her bare feet.
Near the center of the great throne room stood Mordred, surrounded by his knights—or what remained of them. Galahad was standing with Zoe, which left Mordred with Gawain, Percival, Tristan, and Bors.
None of them looked happy.
Walking up to Mordred, Gwen reached out and touched his arm as she approached.
He turned his head to look down at her with a faint, weary smile. “Good morning, firefly.”
“Right.” She let out a half-hearted chuckle and hugged him. “Are you okay?”
“Of course not. But I will survive.” He looked exhausted—deep dark bags under his eyes revealed he likely hadn’t slept. Or he’d been tortured by Zoe and that necklace. Or both.
The issue was, they didn’t know if he would survive. That was the whole problem. Frowning, she glanced at the four knights. Percival was glaring off into the middle distance. “What happens to them, if…”
“I do not know. Likely, my magic shatters—and frees them from their service to me.” Mordred’s expression turned cold. “I expect they will vote against me.” He didn’t even bother to drop the volume of his voice.
Right—they were elementals. They all received a vote, same as everybody else. Frowning, she glanced at the four knights. Would they really do that? Vote to kill Mordred out of spite?
Yeah. After centuries of magical servitude. Yeah, they probably would.
Sighing, she wove her fingers between his. “What about Galahad?”
“I do not know. He is…a friend, but he holds honor and the law above all else. I do not know how he will cast his vote.”
“It has to be unanimous, right?”
“Correct.”
“Then—then I’ll vote against, and you’ll be fine.” She smiled, hope briefly sparking in her chest.
“You are not an elemental, Gwendolyn. You are a wizard, though you may share our gifts.” Mordred shook his head. “I am afraid you shall not have a say.”
“Fuck.” She shut her eyes and let out a ragged breath. “Fuck.”
“As much as I would like to, now is likely not the time.”
