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Ears perked up, tail flying back and forth, Eod turned and ran down the hall, nails scrabbling on the wood as he beelined toward the front door.
Chuckling, she smiled. “Dogs. Simple creatures. Gotta love ’em.”
The soldier nodded with asqueak-squeak-squeak.
She studied him for a moment. “Do you have a name?”
He shook his head.Squeak-squeak-squeak.
That was depressing. “Mordred really needs to get better about naming his creations. Would you like a name?”
A nod.Squeak-squeak-squeak.
“I’ll think of a good one for you.” She smiled broader at him. “When the dog comes back up, you can just let him in, right?” She walked back into the room. “Thank you!”
The door shut quietly behind her. It looked like a beautiful spring day out. It took her a little time, but she figured out how to open the windows to the room. They swung on hinges. Looking over the edge, the cliff was a sheer drop all the way down. Maybe if she’d still had her wings, she could have managed it. But as it was, she’d fall to her death.
And if not death, well, terrible mangling. It didn’t sound fun at all. No, she was going to be stuck in Mordred’s keep until he saw fit to let her go. Which might be absolutely never if what he said was true.
Not like she really wanted to run away either. She bristled at the idea of being his prisoner—who wouldn’t? But she…loved him. She really seriously did.
Sitting down on the thick stone sill of the window, careful not to risk falling out, she watched the clouds drift lazily along in the clear blue sky. She could hear the quiet crash of waves against the cliff below.
She loved Mordred.TheMordred. It was probably going to get her killed. No, screw that, it was absolutely going to get her killed. The question was just how long it took and how it went down.
She didn’t want to run away. But she didn’t want to be his prisoner either. Maybe over time she could earn his trust again. But that was time that she didn’t know if she really had. Lancelot and Grinn would be building their army and storming the castle. A war would break out. And if Mordred lost…? Well, he’d be gone and her heart would go with him.
And if he won?
He’d have to kill her to kill Grinn. And she knew that Mordred’s hatred of the demon ran thick and deep—there wasn’t going to be any dissuading him.
Gwen suspected that Mordred cared about her. He hadn’t ever said the words, but the way he fretted when she was injured, with such fear in his eyes at the idea of losing her, she knew he felt something.
But would it be enough? Was his attachment to her deeper than his hatred for the demon?
She didn’t know.
And that was the problem.
She didn’t know.
Sticking her finger into a proverbial live socket with Mordred was stupid enough the first time around, with the whole Iron Crystal debacle. She sure as shit wasn’t going to do it again. For now, she’d stick to the plan—keep her soul bond to the demon a secret for as long as possible.
The current trick was to get Mordred to forgive her for not telling him the truth about Grinn. She hated the idea of him being mad at her, even if the result of him being “mad” was having epic sex.
She snickered. She was never going to look at that map table the same way again.
The door opened up and Eod bounced back in, proudly carrying someone’s knee-high sock—or stocking, or whatever—in his mouth. Laughing, Gwen climbed from the windowsill. “Where did you get that? C’mere, give me that.”
He danced around happily with it. He clearly had no intention of giving it up. What ensued next was a mixture of wrestling and tug-of-war that rendered the sock well and truly useless. But after about twenty minutes of games, Gwen was laughing so much it was hard to breathe. She rolled onto her back with her eyes shut as she tried to fill her aching lungs.
“Perhaps I made a mistake. It seems your imprisonment is far too much fun.”
She blinked her eyes open. Standing over her, upside down and looming, was Mordred. Eod was at his side, tail wagging and tongue out, clearly proud of all the hard work he had just been doing.
“Oh—I—” She sat up. “I didn’t think—”
“I am joking with you.” Mordred patted the dog on the head. “I assume you would want to eat breakfast.”
