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She shook her head. She wouldn’t lie to him. But she wouldn’t tell him the truth either. She didn’t want to die. Shereallydidn’t want to die. And certainly not at his hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Very well.” He swung his sword for her, and the dance began again. She managed to get behind him at one point and blasted a fireball at his left knee. It knocked his leg out from under him and, for the briefest moment, he staggered.
Hope filled her heart.
And was instantly gone a second later when he threw an elbow toward her, sending her reeling and staggering into the field of cut grass. It instantly began to blacken and burn.Great. I’m a forest fire machine. Smokey Bear, can you ever forgive me?
Before she lit the whole field on fire, and before Mordred could get over her, she rolled back into the road and scrambled back to her feet. She wished she knew how to fly—she really did. Maybe she could just circle around and blast him with fire.
But he had a flying sword.
And a dragon.
She was so, so screwed.
Swing, dodge. Swing, dodge. Swing, dodge. He was bigger than her, stronger than her, but she had one thing on him—she was faster. And he didn’t seem to be trying very hard to hit her.
It was too late when she realized what he was doing.
It was too late because, by the time she realized his ploy, it had already started working. He was tiring her out. She was struggling to catch her breath as adrenaline and her constant ducking and rolling took their toll on her.
And the big iron bastard didn’t even look like he had broken a sweat. For fuck’s sake, he was carrying himself with all the mannerisms of a man who wasbored.
She knew it was going to be hopeless.
But it was another thing to experience it.
Gathering her strength, she threw another blast of fire at him with a shout. It knocked him back half a step. But that was it. A second time, and he flicked his cape up to deflect it, the panels of fabric turning to iron like a shield. A third, and she felt like she was running out of gas.
Her shoulders slumped.
He stepped forward and swung his sword for her head. She dodged again, but just a second too slow. With his other hand, he caught her by the upper arm and threw her roughly to the ground.
When she rolled onto her back, the point of Caliburn was already hovering over her throat. It was over. She put out her fire. There wasn’t a point in it anymore. He’d won. “Are you going to kill me?”
“No.” He reached down and grasped her by the throat with his clawed hand. She could feel the points of his talons digging into her skin. “But I am a man of my word, Gwendolyn Wright—I have found you, and now you aremine.”
“I—”
One word left him. She couldn’t even figure out what it was. But whatever he had said, it must have been magic. Because with that single sound, the world went dark.
* * *
Mordred sighed as he picked up the unconscious young woman. When he had used his magic to force her to sleep, her wings had dissipated. They were not yet fully part of her sense of self. But at least it would make her easier to transport.
She had truly been a thing of beauty. So frightened of him, with her wide eyes and frantic efforts to evade him. She would be a true force of nature in a hundred years when she had the experience and the full mastery of her power. She could rule the isle if she wished to.
A shame she would spend those hundred years in chains. He was relieved to have her safe with him once more, though the anger that boiled in his soul over her continued deception threatened his temper. Why was she protecting the demon Grinn?Why?What sway did he hold over her?
She could not possibly agree with the monster’s goals. She was too empathetic to the plights of those around her. Far too empathetic. Was he lying to her, spinning some sort of tale to keep her as his ally? No. Mordred knew the demon well—and an actor, he was not.
Sowhy?
He would learn the truth. And he would keep her as his prisoner until he did. His dragon landed in the field beside them with a heavythud, the wind from his wings putting out the small fire that Gwen had started.
“What of the demon, my prince?” Tristan called. The Knight in Tin. He was the most youthful of the bunch, despite having as many years behind him as any other. Always brash, always hopeful, always naive. “Should we pursue him?”
“No. He is with the wizard. And if that lunatic has decided to aid the demon for whatever reason, there is little chance we will catch them now.” Mordred sighed as he dismissed the iron steed back into the ether from where he had summoned it. Clicking his tongue, he summoned Eod. The dog had been sitting by his horse, watching the fight with deep concern. The dog eagerly jogged up to the dragon, barking a happy hello.
