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How pathetic.
But it was unavoidable. Letting out a wavering breath, he headed down to the chamber where the shattered remains of the Iron Crystal still sat like a monument to his own foolishness. Most of the shards in the pit had gone dark, the magic leaking out and returning to the world. But a few remained shimmering in their strange opalescence. Finding one that was the proper size and strength, he plucked it from the ruins and went to fetch the second half of what he needed.
Walking into Gwen’s chambers made him flinch. He was glad there was no one to witness his brokenhearted malaise. Finding a hairbrush on a table, he was happy to see plenty of her multi-colored, fiery strands on the pillow. Gathering them up, he returned to his own quarters, shutting and locking the door behind him.
Sitting in front of his fire, he straightened the strands of her hair until they were all aligned in the same direction. He wound them around the crystal slowly, thoughts of her heavy on his mind.
Was she safe?
Was she with Lancelot?
Did she regret what she had done?
Had their time together meant anything to her?
Or was it all part of her lie?
Holding the crystal perched between the points of his claws on one hand, he breathed a slow exhale onto the shard as though it were an ember of a dying flame. It flickered, glowed brighter and, like the fire in his hearth, changed from its array of colors to oranges and reds and yellows.
The hair he had wound around it had become part of it. Changing the magic to be linked to her. Carefully, so as not to damage the spell he had just cast, he created a delicate iron cage for the shard, suspending it from a thin chain that he placed around his neck.
It was a simple spell. One made for lovers who were parted and could not stand not to see each other. His mother had taught him how to use it to spy on his enemies. He supposed he was not entirely certain which Gwendolyn was at the moment.
Toying with the gem, he stood and readied himself for bed. Now he was both eager for sleep and yet dreaded it in the same breath.
Shedding his armor and his clothes, he climbed beneath the sheets and shut his eyes.
Do you feel my absence as I feel yours, Gwendolyn?
FIVE
Gwen was dreaming of home.
She was standing on the bottom rung of a wood fence that had been backed with chicken wire. Otherwise, they’d have to fetch their goats from the neighbor’s parcel again. She wasn’t sure why they always wandered off into Mr. Belcher’s yard, but goats generally defied explanations.
She threw a fistful of the feed into the grass, watching as they all came charging out from deeper in the field, bleating in greeting and excitement.
It was a beautiful sunny day. A gentle wind was pushing her hair—which was brown, not blazing red—into her eyes. One of the billy goats came up to her and tried to steal the bag out of her hands. “Hey! Jerk.” She scratched his head. “There’s plenty for everybody.”
The goat bleated and bonked his head into her arm. Not roughly—just insistently.
“Yeah, yeah,fine.You’re so spoiled.” She lowered the bag a bit so he could shove his head in there and gobble up a few eager mouthfuls before she took the bag back away. “Now eat out of the grass like the rest of the peasants, huh?”
After she was done throwing out enough for their breakfast, she rolled up the top of the bag and turned to head back to the barn.
And in that moment, the world around her snapped. Like the flick of a switch, she was no longer on her farm in Kansas. She wasn’t even standing in Mordred’s keep. She had no clue where she was—but it was like something out of a nightmare.
The walls around her were immense, soaring high up overhead into arches and peaks that reminded her of a gothic church. But everything was made from iron—some rusted, some not. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and cast eerie flickering shadows. Where there should have been beautiful wood carvings, there were twisted, arching and tangled vines made from metal. She recognized the style—it was like the patterns that covered Mordred’s armor.
Mordred.
And as if thinking his name was all it took, the candles flickered in a sudden gust of wind. In one of those brief moments of darkness, he appeared in front of her.
She took a staggering step back.
He was a thing of nightmares. He wore his plate armor, save for the helm, but his face was obscured by the heavy black hood of his cloak. It was like the first time she saw him—more of a terrifying force of nature than a man.
Trying to burst into flames to protect herself, she realized she couldn’t. It seemed in her dreams she was still human.
