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Her cheeks went hot as she blushed. It was a second later that the melancholy settled over her with the reality of what was happening.
“No. None of that.” He must have seen her mood fade. He turned her head toward him with the gentle crook of a talon. “Our time may be short, firefly. And I will not waste it on fears for the future.”
“But…”
“No. I forbid it.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You’re ordering me around now?”
His smile was just a little bit wicked. “If that is what you wish, then yes.”
If it weren’t for the iron she was wearing, she’d worry she’d have burst into flames with how hot her cheeks were. “Damn it, Mordred.”
“Eat. Do you play chess?”
“Miserably. I know the rules, but past that I’m a four-year-old at the game.”
“Then I will teach you.” He picked up his knife and fork and began cutting up his dinner.
“If you teach chess the way you teach sword fighting, I’m scared.” She winced.
He smirked. “I expect you might end up with a few less bruises.”
“Imight?”
“It depends on how poorly you play, I suppose.” He chuckled and gestured at her meal. “Eat, firefly.”
Her stomach rumbled, clearly agreeing with him. With a smile, and a hope in her heart that maybe things could be normal between them—as normal as thingscouldbe, given the situation—if they had enough time.
But she didn’t think time was on their side.
* * *
Lancelot wasn’t entirely certain how he was going to find the demon and the sorcerer, hiding somewhere in the wilderness by Mordred’s keep. Luckily, he knew the terrain like the back of his hand. He’d had sixteen hundred years of wandering about the island, and three hundred of those with all the magic of Avalon trapped in the Iron Crystal. It had left him nothing better to do except wander.
So, as he puzzled over exactly how and wherehewould go to hide, there was one clear answer that came to mind—a cave by a river that pointed away from the road and the keep itself. It would be protected enough from the weather, had a source of fresh water, and he would be able to burn fires without the fear of being spotted by any onlookers.
He rode along on his silver steed, enjoying the fresh air and the wonderful spring weather. The world had come alive again—finally freed from the terrible clutches of a perpetual autumn. That depressing point in the season where it was clear that the celebration of fading life had ended, and the winter was only minutes away.
God, how he loved this island when it was as it should be. The chaos and the fighting were simply the cost of such a wonderous, beautiful place. It was a worthy price to pay. He would not allow this world to return to the Crystal—or he would die trying.
Normally, his money would be firmly upon the latter. But with the aid of Grinn and a growing pack of elementals, he had hope he might succeed. And if Gwendolyn was still with the demon and the wizard, they had another powerful resource at their disposal.
Not because he suspected the young lady was a useful fighter. Far from it, at this point in her life. No—because she was a weakness. Mordred would not stand against her; Lancelot was certain of it.
For a thousand years, and a half again, and more, he had suffered the presence of the Prince in Iron. He knew the man, whether he liked it or not. And it was painfully clear to him that Mordred was in love.
The idea was almost laughable. Indeed, if anyone had suggested it to him in passing, he would have laughed and called them a fool. But Lancelot had seen it himself, firsthand. It was undeniable.
And it might be the only thing that saved the sacred isle from suffering more of the bastard’s cruel reign.
Lancelot had been riding through the countryside, sticking to the roads as best he could but avoiding major towns, as he headed back in the direction of the keep. Zoe’s magic had put him close to his destination, but not quite there.
There was hope in his heart that Zoe and Enin would be successful in finding more elementals. There was only so much he could do on his own. Despite his newfound freedom from Mordred, Lancelot knew he was likely a deterrent not an aid when begging for support from those who had been imprisoned in the Crystal. He was, after all, a knight and elemental of metal. Who was to say that he was not setting them up for a trap? And now that he had others to help him, he was likely best served to help wrangle the demon.
Sadly, it was best to let the Gossamer Lady and the Lord in Green do the convincing for him. Though he disliked the idea of what would come in a few days when it came time to rally the forces and only a measly number of elementals emerged for the fight.
That would be a bridge he crossed when they came to it.
