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“The two of you should seek out Galahad. He may need your assistance in dealing with Lancelot and the Gossamer Lady. Return to the keep when all that has been resolved. We will wait for our enemy to make his next move.” At his silent command, the dragon lowered his head to the ground and opened his jaws like an alligator. Eod climbed into the maw of the beast and lay down. It was not the first time he had traveled in such a way. Mordred trained his pups to be useful.
Settling down onto the back of the dragon with Gwen still in his lap, he ordered the creature to fly. He would return home with only part of his goal completed. He had wished to return with Grinn’s severed head as a trophy as well. Now, he could only hope that Galahad was more successful in his defeat of Lancelot.
He doubted it. Galahad was the stronger knight, but Lancelot was far more ready to use dirty tactics to win. The Knight in Gold held his honor above all. It would be his undoing someday.
Looking down at the woman asleep in his arms, Mordred could at least take consolation in the fact that the day had not been a total loss.
There was too much that she was still hiding from him.
I was kind to you once before, Gwendolyn Wright. I was patient.
We shall see if I have the heart for it a second time.
* * *
Galahad slowed his horse to a walk as he entered the glade to where Lancelot and the Gossamer Lady had fled. Or, at least, so the townsfolk had said. He had not resorted to fear and threats of physical violence in exchange for the information. He was unsure if that made the knowledge more or less reliable.
He supposed he would learn soon enough.
Lancelot was a clever man. He would know that even with Zoe at his side, he was outmatched two to three. Gawain and Bors, the Knight in Cobalt and the Knight in Nickel, were not the strongest fighters of their order, but they were both wily and intelligent in their own right.
Subterfuge and stealth would be the tools that Lancelot would use against them, Galahad was certain of it. He would lie in wait and seek to ambush them. So, Galahad would ride slowly and ensure he had as much time as possible to see where the Knight in Silver might be hiding.
When he reached a clearing that would be a prime location for such an ambush, he stopped at the entrance to it. He could almost smell the magic in the air. There was an enchantment upon the clearing. “You forget that I would know her magic were I rendered blind and mute, Silver Knight.” The magic that had been placed on the clearing shimmered and popped like a soap bubble on a sunny day.
Galahad kept his tone calm, though his heart was lodged in his throat.
He had been so very certain that he would never see his love again.
But she washere.Though he did not blame her for hiding. He was sworn to service to the Prince in Iron, one way or another.
“I was hoping you would be an idiot for once in your life.” Lancelot emerged from behind a tree. “It was worth a try. I assume Mordred sent you after me?”
“Yes.” He let his helm melt away. “It is good to see you are well.”
Lancelot laughed. “Yes. And free of that bastard’s magic. I finally have the chance to get revenge on him for what he has done to us—what he did to Avalon.”
Galahad dismounted and pulled his steel and golden sword from its sheath. While a sword of solid gold would be pretty, it would be entirely useless in practice. “I wish you luck in your endeavor. But you know what I must do.”
Lancelot drew his own sword. “Just like old times.”
The moment that steel was to meet steel, a voice stopped them both in their tracks. A voice that Galahad had heard every night in his dreams.
“Stop.”
The Gossamer Lady.
SIXTEEN
“C’mon you stupid”—rattle, rattle—“fucking”—rattle, rattle—“piece of shit!”
It was pointless.
Gwen let go of the chains she had been yanking on, and released a long, heavy sigh. This sucked. This sucked immensely. Waking up in a jail cell hadn’t exactly been a surprise, but then again, she had really been hoping for a million other things. But here she was, right back where she had been before—in the same damn cell, no less—but this time she waschained to the fucking wall.
Iron cuffs were around her wrists, fitted tight to her skin as if they had been made for her. Because, of course, they probably had been. Matching iron chains connected the loops on the cuffs to a ring on the wall.
At least the chains were long enough that she could lie down without a problem and walk around most of the cell. Her biggest issue was going to be tripping over them or getting tangled up. She had almost cracked herself in the teeth with one of the links when she had woken up on a hay-stuffed mattress.
