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She patted the dog. “You really are the best, y’know.”
“He knows,” Doc said from the driver’s seat. “Get on, kid. Time to go.”
“What about Lancelot and Zoe?” Gwen climbed onto the wooden cart beside him.
“Since we had already split up, they had already gone far enough that they likely did not hear the commotion.” He snapped the reins, and the two horses eagerly began to trot as they quickly made their way out of the town and back toward the woods for cover.
Glancing back behind them, it looked like Grinn was sleeping or unconscious. She frowned. “I don’t know if we can run far enough that Mordred won’t be able to find us.”
“You’re most certainly right. We aren’t running.” Doc smiled grimly. “We’re putting distance between us and innocent civilians.”
She supposed that was fair. She wrapped her wings around herself, still not sure quite what to do with them. But at least they were warm and acted a bit like a cloak. “You could have warned me.”
“Could have. Didn’t.”
“Why not?”
He sighed. “Because sometimes bad things have to happen for a chance at better things. But only sometimes. And we have to take that chance every single time. Becausesometimesit might work. Even though it generally doesn’t. Like this time probably won’t.”
She stared at him, flat and unamused. “Thanks.”
His smile was cheerful in the face of her sarcasm. “You’re welcome!”
Turning her attention to the sky that was slowly filling with clouds, she frowned. It’d be harder to see a dragon approaching if it was overcast. “How pissed do you think he’ll be if—when—he finds us?”
Doc only snickered.
And honestly, he didn’t need to say more than that.
I am so fucked.
* * *
“Whereisshe?”
Mordred slammed the man to the wall, his clawed gauntlet around his throat. The villager’s feet were barely touching the ground as Mordred squeezed. “Do not make me repeat myself a third time.”
The man gagged. “They killed—”
“I know what was done.” He tightened his grasp enough to dig his nails just enough into the villager’s skin as to break the surface. “And I do not care. Heed my warning, little man…I am in no mood to tolerate simpletons.”
The villager pointed down toward a road leading out of Aercester and into the nearby glade. The man coughed. “But—the knight—”
Mordred dropped the man enough that he could place his feet on the ground and breathe. “The knight?”
“Lancelot and the Gossamer Lady were with them. They split up. Dunno where they went, prince, please—” The man was shaking in terror. Mordred had an overwhelming urge to snap his neck, simply from his foul mood. But the villager, to his credit, had not done anything wrong.
With a heavy sigh, he let go of him and stormed away. Flicking his wrist, an iron stallion lifted his head and trotted over from where it had been waiting with his other knights. They had flown in on dragonback, but it would be difficult to see Gwendolyn through the cover of the leaves. Climbing atop the steed, he headed from the town toward the woods—but more importantly, away from the listening ears of the town. His knights followed. He had summoned them all—or rather, all who remained in his service.
Galahad, Percival, Tristan, Gawain, and Bors, each atop their own steeds of metal. Mordred’s jaw ticked. He would have to split his own forces to pursue the traitor Lancelot and the demon Grinn.
But he did not wish to start a war with the Gossamer Lady. Not yet. Letting out a sigh, he said, “Our foes have split. Grinn has taken Gwen—and perhaps the mage of the ruins—into the forest. Percival and Tristan, you will ride with me. Galahad—take Gawain and Bors in pursuit of Lancelot. I wish for him to be brought back to me alive.”
“Yes, my prince.” The Knight in Gold bowed his head before speaking again after a pause. “Does he ride alone?”
“No. He does not.” Mordred knew Galahad would not betray him. Of all of his knights, of all his so-calledfriendsover the centuries, he almost trusted the Knight in Gold. And what he was offering Galahad was obvious to them both—bring me Lancelot, and you decide what becomes of the Gossamer Lady. Whether she joins us or walks free.
As he rode into the woods with Percival and Tristan behind him, he did not bother to look back. Though he was certain that Galahad would fight his best to succeed, there was no guarantee of it. Galahad was a fearsome warrior, but so was Lancelot. Even with the aid of Gawain and Bors, there was no certainty of the Knight in Gold’s success over Silver. Especially with the Gossamer Lady at Lancelot’s side.
