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FIFTEEN
Gwen kept her hands tight into fists. She was shaking. It took everything in her to hold back a panic attack. As the three armored men approached on their horses, it became more and more of a struggle. But she held on. Somehow. Barely.
For now.
Mordred pulled his steed to a halt a dozen feet in front of her. The stallion snorted angrily and stomped a rusted iron hoof into the packed dirt of the road. His opalescent, glowing eyes glared at her as if it clearly understood she was the reason why he had been ordered to stop.
The Prince in Iron dismounted, looking like a perfect monster from a nightmare in his full plate armor and helm that hid his face. It was impossible to know what he was thinking as he approached her. But when Caliburn appeared in the air beside him, floating and waiting at the ready, she had a guess he wasn’t thrilled.
“Where is he?” Mordred’s voice was tinny and hollow from inside the helm. It added to how inhuman he looked.
“I don’t know.” She squared her shoulders. It was the honest truth. If Doc was clever, he would have gone off the path or taken an unexpected route away. Staying on the main road was probably suicide if Mordred didn’t buy her stall tactic and decided to just flatten her and be done with it.
“Why are you protecting him?” He clenched his fists.
That was a really good question. She couldn’t tell Mordred the truth—if you learn we’re connected, you’ll murder me to get to him.So, what was she supposed to say instead? Her silence as she struggled to come up with a good fib was apparently enough for him.
“More secrets. More lies.” His hands relaxed, and that was somehow scarier to her. “Very well. Stand down, Gwendolyn Wright. Surrender now, so that I may hunt that bastard demon down and ask him myself.”
Taking in a deep breath, she held it for a moment, steeling herself for what was about to follow. She winced as she imagined it. This was going to hurt. “No.”
He cracked his head from one side to the other. “Gwendolyn, stand down.”
“No.” She spread her wings, blocking off more of the path from him.
“You cannot win.”
“I know I can’t.” She chewed her lip. “That’s not the point.”
“I see.” He grasped the hilt of Caliburn and pulled it from the air. It seemed he planned on doing this personally. At least he wasn’t going to just run her through and call it good. “You look lovely with wings.”
“I wish they were prettier.” She glanced at them. They were made of fire now, just like the rest of her. She supposed they looked nicer like that. “I was hoping at least forfeathersor something. Zoe has butterfly wings. I get”—she spread them a bit more and then relaxed—“ugly-ass leather dragon wings.”
“Do not say that near my own dragon. I think they are beautiful.”
“I wish I knew how to use them.” She chuckled.
“Perhaps that will come in time.” He paused. “Shall we begin?”
It was going to be like their training sessions. Only way, way more painful for her. She nodded. “Yeah. I guess so.” Her job was going to be to play defense. To keep him distracted for as long as possible. It would just be a matter of whether or not she could do it for long enough that Doc managed to get far enough away.
Winning was out of the question. But like she had said—that wasn’t the point.
Mordred strode toward her. She blasted him with fire, and it had the same effect as it had when they were in the courtyard that day. He simply walked through it, the edges of his armor glowing from the heat, as though it hadn’t happened.
Man, she really hoped this wasn’t over in seven seconds.
She jumped away from him as he swung his sword for her. It didn’t seem like he was trying to hit her with it. That was a relief. But what he was trying to do was keep her off her footing. She wished she could summon a sword. Or anything solid. But all she had was fire, and fire didn’t doshitto him.
Jumping back, she instinctively flapped her wings, sending her another ten feet back than she had intended. She squeaked in surprise and nearly fell over. “Holy shit—” She laughed. “That was awesome! Did you see that?”
Mordred stared at her for a moment and then simply shook his head as if to sayyouth.He came toward her again, and she blasted the ground in front of him, trying to create a super-heated trench. Something that might hurt iron. The fire blazed white hot. He stopped for a moment on the other side of it, first eyeing the trench, then her.
“That would work under normal circumstances.” He stepped over it as if it wasn’t there. “But you forget the laws of Avalon. I am not simply made of iron—I am theantithesisof this island. I am the counter to all magic—including yours. Surrender, Gwendolyn.”
“No. I can’t.” She was shaking again.
“Tell me why you are protecting him.”
