Chapter 21

Galahad watched the keep from the cover of the woods, and reflected upon how, not long ago, Lancelot had stood in this exact place, planning to do exactly the same thing.

But without the iron army and Mordred, the keep would fall much faster. He frowned at the idea of having to put Gwendolyn to the blade. It hurt him deeply. She did not deserve to die. But that was war. That was what happened when forces fought for power.

The fires flickered in the woods around him, where the elementals had set up camp. Their light would warn the denizens of the keep, whoever was left. And that was very much by design. He knew the villagers had rallied to Gwendolyn's cause. He knew that upon seeing their encroaching force, she would send them away. She would seek to spare their lives and likely surrender herself to them.

That was his sincerest hope.

"I know you feel this is wrong," Zoe said as she approached, hugging his arm and leaning her cheek against him. "But it must be done."

Galahad merely sighed in response.

"I will ensure her death is quick and painless. I do not wish for her to suffer. I am so very sorry that you have had to endure the loss of your friends. But you know quite well what Mordred would have done to this world, should he have been allowed to live."

"I do." Galahad shut his eyes.

"We will approach the keep at dawn, in hopes that you are correct—that she will surrender."

She would.

Then she would die.

And Galahad would be left to wonder if he could live with himself and his deeds.

Mordred smirked as he saw the fires flickering in the distance. It seemed Galahad sought to repeat recent history.

"What do we do?" Gwendolyn asked from beside him, hugging his arm as she watched the field as well. "And…they told us they were here. Wouldn't a surprise attack have been better?"

"They believe me to be dead. They will think you are here alone with your army of villagers. If I know Galahad, he is hoping to procure your surrender." Mordred huffed a laugh. "Which, if the facts he believes were true, I am certain you would."

"Probably." She paused. "Yeah. I would. To spare the villagers. Even if Bert would be super pissed about it."

She had a noble heart. And such a thing was easily used and manipulated. Mordred knew that from personal experience. To think that he had submitted to the laws of those who sought to harm him. Never again.

Nor would he allow Gwendolyn to take from him that which was rightfully his. He adored his firefly. And he would cherish her for all the time they had to share. The discord between the two truths was churning in his mind. He had a solution to the issue, but to say that it would strain their love would be putting it mildly.

Perhaps it was his turn to betray her. The Ancients knew how many times he had forgiven her for the same. Love was eternal, but anger was temporary—she would forgive him in time. And time was something they would have in abundance once his work was done.

"Y'know," she interrupted his thoughts. "If I become queen, and we get married…you still get to be king."

"King consort. It is different." He placed his hand atop hers where it rested on his arm. "But I understand your meaning, and I appreciate it." Pausing, he turned to her. "Did you just casually agree to marry me?"

"I mean, yeah." She smiled up at him, shrugging shyly, as though it were no matter worth discussing. "I figured that was obvious."

His heart soared and fell into oblivion at the same moment. "Then I believe the modern custom is to provide you with a ring, is it not?"

"Sure, but it's not a big deal."

Holding his hand up, he closed his fingers into a fist, and summoned his power, weaving an intricate ring of iron. He pulled magic from himself, just a thread—just enough—and created a shining, faintly glowing shard of crystal to sit in the center of the band. When he opened his palm, her eyes went wide, her smile broadening.

Mordred knelt. "Will you be my bride, Gwendolyn Wright?"

"I—I already told you," she murmured, staring at the ring in awe and disbelief.

He chuckled. "Then do me the honor of saying yes, will you?"

"Yes." She laughed as if she did not quite believe it. "Yes! I'll marry you. I love you."

Standing, he kissed her. She jumped, wrapping her arms behind his neck, and he took her weight easily, her feet no longer touching the ground.

When he released her, she took the ring from him and studied it, turning it over in her palm. "What's making it glow, your magic?"

"Indeed. A piece of me." He was almost proud of her for recognizing it and growing suspicious. He could hear it in her voice. "So that I will never leave your side."

There was a smile on her features as she turned the ring over in her hand, inspecting every delicate curl of iron that grasped the shard that resembled opal. There was a moment when he thought she might reject it—when she thought she might see through his scheme.

But she trusted him.

For now.

She slipped the ring on her finger.

When nothing happened, she smiled, laughed, and studied it. "I—I love it. The glow is subtle enough that it won't keep me up at night."

"Hm. I did not think of that." He combed his talons through her hair as he held her close. "Gwendolyn, they will strike in the morning. I need you to stay in the keep. I need you to stay out of the way."

"Why?" She furrowed her brow as she looked up at him. "You think I'm going to stop you from killing them?"

"At least Galahad, yes. I know you. And I know your bleeding heart." He crooked a claw beneath her chin. "You will wish to spare him, no matter what he has done or vows to do. Galahad will die by my hand. I will not tolerate your meddling, too much is at stake."

"I…" Her shoulders slumped. "You're right. I don't think I can watch him die. Lancelot was bad enough, and I really like Galahad."

"I appreciate that you did not attempt to lie to me this time." No matter what he did, he could not suppress a smirk. "And you believe I had enchanted the ring."

"Yeah. I did. I mean. You're taking this whole ‘the island decreed it wants me to be queen' thing really well." She stared down at the ring again, clearly fascinated by how it looked on her finger. "I guess I expected you to be mad about it."

"I have two responses to that. The first is that my goal in all this is, and forever shall be, to keep you safe from all those who would see you harmed. This includes our former friends, the elementals, and any new threats that might arise." He leaned down to kiss her, hovering his lips just over hers, before pausing. "And the second…is that you are right."

"Wh—" Gwendolyn's eyes rolled back into her head, her knees giving out as she fell asleep. He caught her as she fell, lifting her easily in his arms. When she woke, all the dirty business of Avalon would be concluded. Galahad, Zoe, and all the other elementals would be long dead.

She would wake with him having taken the throne. And Caliburn. Both of which were his by right. And he would leave her there in her dream until everything was secured. He would endure her wrath, but it would be worth it in the end.

Worse yet for her would be her discovery that the ring was impossible to remove. It would be his insurance that she would never be able to stand against him.

"The Ancients decreed that you must not give up your fight to become Queen of Avalon. And you never shall—but neither shall you succeed." He carried her into the room, placing her down on the bed. He stroked her fiery hair before kissing her and pulling the blankets up over her. "We shall exist until the stars burn away as the King in Iron and his Queen in Chains."

Eod, who was curled up on the rug by the fireplace, lifted his head and whimpered quietly.

Mordred patted the bed. He did not usually allow dogs to sleep there, but he would make an exception this time. Though, he suspected an exception once made was an exception no longer, but now the rule. But he would make that a gift to his firefly.

The hound jumped onto the bed, turned around a few times, sniffed Gwendolyn, then collapsed in a heap beside her, resting his head on her legs. He was a good and loyal animal.

Mordred petted the dog, seeing worry and concern in those big, doleful eyes. "It will be all right, I promise. She will understand."

The dog's ears drooped as if he questioned the validity of that statement. But Mordred was certain that Gwendolyn would forgive him. She must. There was no option.

Standing, he headed for the door. There was work to be done.

Gwen was back in senior year of high school, sitting on the field, staring out at the baseball diamond. It was a championship game, and her boyfriend Mick was shortstop. So here she was, cheering him on, with her bag of kettle corn and diet soda.

Wait.

Ex-boyfriend.

Mick was her ex-boyfriend.

All at once, she realized she was dreaming. And the moment after that, she remembered what had happened to put her here. Her first reaction had nothing to do with her dream. "Fuck!"she growled, placing her hands over her face. "I should have known—I should have known! Fucking damn it!"

Mordred had tricked her. The ring wasn't just enchanted, it was cursed. But cursed how? That remained to be seen. She was going to beat the shit out of him. Or rather, she was going to try. Maybe Maewenn would loan her a frying pan.

The last thing she remembered was putting the ring on her finger, and then she was here. She knew why he'd done it. He wanted Galahad and Zoe dead—and while she agreed about Zoe, she was on the fence about Galahad. More importantly… he wanted the throne.

Something told her she was going to have a hard time getting the ring off her finger when she woke up. "Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck—"She knew swearing wasn't going to get her anywhere, but it made her feel better.

He'd betrayed her. She was furious. But at the same time, she wasn't surprised. And, to be fair, she'd done it to him a half dozen times so far. It still made her want to scream. Given that she was alone in a dream, she did. Nobody around her even registered her outburst.

She knew what he was up to. It wasn't enough that Mordred was going to kill Galahad and Zoe and take the throne for himself—it was what he was going to do the day after. Namely, slaughter all the elementals and place all of Avalon under his thumb. He was going to take the throne. Technically, the Ancients had said she couldn't give up trying—not that she had to succeed.

He'd found a loophole. Great. A murderous loophole.

But how could she stop him? What could she do? If the ring made her fall asleep on command, he effectively had wired her with a goddamn off switch.

Even worse, she was trapped in a dream. She couldn't do anything from here. That was her first step—get out of the dream.

"Wake up." She slapped her palms against her temples. "Wake up, stupid. Wake up!"

The dream baseball game continued, the crack of the metal bat against the ball echoing across the field. She sighed and lay back on the grass, staring up at the blue sky of her dream. "This is stupid."

There was no way Mordred would leave her asleep like this. Not forever. But just long enough to have finished his murder spree and take the throne. If she didn't wake up now, Galahad and Zoe would be dead, and who knows how many with them?

"Wake up. Wake up wake up wake up!"She screamed at the sky, but nothing but the cheer of the crowd around her responded.

It was a statement she'd made a thousand times since coming to Avalon. And she had the feeling she'd make it a thousand more times before this place was done with her.

"This fucking sucks."

History would repeat itself for Galahad, Mordred would see to that. But perhaps not in the way that the Knight in Gold would predict.

They believed him to be dead.

And that would work very much to his advantage.

"When dawn breaks, Galahad will ride forward and ask for the surrender of Gwendolyn. You must tell him that in a fit of grief, she has killed herself." Mordred did not take his eyes off the campfires at the edge of the forest.

"Um…" Bertin—Mordred refused to address or think of the scarecrow as Bert—was clearly not a fan of the plot. "Why? Where is she?"

"Gwendolyn has opted to stay in my chambers for the duration of the fight. The death of her former friend and ally will hurt her too much to witness. Her sympathetic heart is what we all adore about her—but it brings her untold harm." Mordred placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. It was not meant as a threat, but if Bertin took it as such, all the better.

The scarecrow sighed. "I'd like to talk to her."

"She is resting."

"Right." Bertin walked away, thinking better of questioning Mordred's obvious lie. He paused before leaving. "And my soldiers?"

"They will wait here in the keep. When I spring my trap, the other elementals may panic and rush forward in an attempt to seize the keep. If that is the case, you will need to defend your future queen."

"Hm. Fine. That's a decent plan." With that, the scarecrow left.

Good. He did not need Bertin to like him or trust him—simply to obey him. This moment was crucial. Mordred could defeat Galahad on his own, but with the addition of the Gossamer Lady, of Caliburn, and of an unknown number of elementals…the situation was still a roll of the dice. He would need every advantage he could gain.

His jaw ticked.

How many times had he stood on the ramparts and defended his home from those who wished to see his head on a pike? How many times had his former companions been the ones to greet him?

It did not matter.

This would be the last.

He would see to it.