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Followed by—fuck that!
He didn’t come this far just to leave his hard-won Mate because of yet another power-mongering bitch!
He braced himself for the strike that would come, prepared to lose an arm or hand in the process, to avoid a mortal wound.
But a thin, long blade came between him and the dagger, locked together, then easily flicked Guinevere’s weapon out of her hand.
Rui stood protectively before Ere’s sprawled form as he hurriedly regained his feet.
“It’s over, queen bitch,” his silver-haired savior said in that no-nonsense voice that Ere had come to appreciate.
Especially in present circumstances.
It totally exudedbadass. Projected a calm, understated and bonafide confidence that was well deserved.
“Modred and Gawain are dead. Arthur and Lancelot are incapacitated. You’re the only one left. Surrender.”
That was when Ere noticed Sorin and Wolfe come up behind Guinevere, blocking her retreat. Behind Ere, close to the back wall, Tristan helped Morgan to her feet.
They’d won!
Ere hoped fervently that they could all go home now.
The last time the sandglass had appeared before him, earlier tonight, before he gathered the group to look for Wolfe and Rui, there was only a thin layer left in the top portion of the receptacle. The trickle to the bottom had sped up. They might not even have until morning to complete their mission.
It was time they returned to their own world, all right. Just maybe not with the Dragon’s Eye. Since he really didn’t want to take anything else from poor tortured Merlin.
But then, the she-demon smiled a snake-like smile, her eyes glowing both darker and brighter. It was the most disturbing combination.
That smile grew broader the longer they stared, until Guinevere began to laugh.
Had she come unhinged? Sore loser and all that?
But the laugh was all wrong. It didn’t sound like the deranged laugh of a madwoman or the hysterical laugh of a defeated opponent.
It was a triumphant, I-know-something-you-don’t-know kind of laugh, and it sent scorpion-sting hot and cold chills down Ere’s spine.
“Stupid, lowly humans,” she spat in a deeper, resonant voice, a sound that didn’t seem to come from within her body, but all around them, in their minds.
“I tried to let you live. If you only did as I bid. If you only carved out the dragon’s eye and killed it.”
A full-body shiver shook through her, as if she was shedding invisible restraints.
“No matter. I do not need the last of its power. I have already gathered enough. It is merely a dried up, used up husk by now. My patience is at an end. Now suffer my wrath!”
Before their very eyes, all of them instinctively taking steps back, Guinevere’s form shimmered at the edges.
A blink of an eye later, a gigantic white dragon opened its great jaws and unleashed a roar that shook like furious thunder through the cavern.
