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“Your Majesty,” said her father.

Arthur spun to face Hector, his ice-blue eyes snapping. He drew his sword, wielding its enormous size as if it were no more than a fork. “Sir Hector,” boomed King Arthur in a voice clearly used to command. “What, by all the devils, is going on?”

Hector grabbed Tamsin’s arm, pulling her down so that they knelt before the king. Tamsin bowed her head, noting the supple leather of the king’s boots just before the tip of Excalibur swung into view. It caught Hector’s chin, forcing him to look up.

“I exiled you. How dare you return to my castle?”

Finally free to move inthe courtyard, Gawain launched into a furious attack. Mordred blocked every blow with easy expertise that spoke of magic more than practice—a dangerous shortcut. It was a fast way to burn through power only to have it fail at a crucial moment—but Mordred was the Prince of Faery. He had reserves most could only dream of. All Gawain could do was buy time, and it was clear Mordred was confident enough to play along.

Mordred’s next blow shuddered against Gawain’s sword with inhuman force. Gawain staggered back, barely able to raise his shield in time to meet the next blow. He cursed as his vambrace bit into his arm.

“What’s the matter, Mordred, trying to compensate for squandering your army on a demon’s breakfast?” Gawain taunted.

Mordred cursed. “More where they came from. I have the whole of Faery at my beck and call.”

“But will your mama let you have them? You always did break your toys.”

Mordred countered with an upward thrust. Gawain moved to block it, but Mordred snarled and dropped the point of his sword just before it struck. Gawain didn’t have time to adjust, only twist to avoid it. The edge missed his breastplate but drove in behind. Gawain felt Viper tear through the mail of his shirt and score his ribs in a searing, white-hot bite that went down to the bone. His mind blanked with the agony as he spun and drove his shield into Mordred’s shoulder. They flung apart, reflexes alone keeping Gawain on his feet.

The light in the Great Hall was almost blinding now, spilling golden rays into the courtyard like a wandering sun. The spell was nearly complete. Gawain only had to keep fighting for a little longer.

And then he heard the raucous clamor of crows. Both opponents looked up at the sound, for both knew what it meant. A swirl of black birds was diving out of the sky, melding into one horrific raptor with a beak like a scythe.

The demon had found them.

ChapterTwenty-Six

The bird wheeled low overhead, opening wings that spanned at least twelve feet. The horses reared, screaming in terror. One by one, they broke free and bolted from the courtyard to the woods beyond. The bird’s great beak opened and spoke in the demon’s measured tones.

“I see the thieves who stole my books, I see the wretch who sent an army to my doors, and I smell deep magic. I see dark entertainment ahead.”

Fast as lightning, it stooped like a hawk, diving straight for them. Gawain had fought the monster once before and he braced himself now, prepared to sell his life dearly. But Mordred was ready, too, blasting frozen fire right in the demon’s feathered face. The demon shrieked and flapped away only to dive again, the slashing claws inches away from Mordred’s flesh.

Gawain leaped in, chopping at the demon between Mordred’s attacks. Together, they gave the creature no rest. His breath rasped as the battle went on, skirmish after skirmish. The two cousins worked in tandem, as equal partners as they had always been relentless foes.

Sweat stood out on Mordred’s cheeks, yet he was in his element, turning the bright afternoon into a swirling mass of inky clouds. Fork after fork of lightning crashed into the demon, setting it alight in a corona of blue fire. The demon stretched its beak wide and belched down a blast of greenish flame. Mordred raised his hand, fingers spread wide, and forced the fire back. The collision of their wills shook the earth. Mortar rained down from Camelot’s walls.

Gawain’s skin crawled from the after-burn of magic as the demon circled away, shrieking in pain. Mordred fell to one knee, his magic seemingly exhausted. His sword dangled from one limp hand.

“Well, that was unexpected.” He gave a sharp grin. “This forest never was the best neighborhood.”

Gawain braced his hands on his knees, breathing hard. For a fleeting instant, he saw what might have been—not Gawain and three brothers, but four, if only fellowship with Mordred had been possible. “We made a good team.”

“Indeed,” said Mordred. His chin jerked up. “Damn and blast, here it comes again.”

Gawain straightened, looking skyward. That instant of distraction gave Mordred what he needed. He drove Viper through Gawain’s mail, magic parting the steel like paper. If the slash to Gawain’s ribs had hurt, this was beyond pain. This was a white-hot forge inside his chest.

Gawain fell to his knees.

“Do you think I would everwillinglyfight at your side?” Mordred murmured in his ear. “I would rather feed myself to my pet worms.”

The king heldTamsin and Hector at sword point, demanding answers. “Tell me again. What do you mean the knights have not awakened from the stone sleep?”

Arthur seemed disoriented, as if his mind hadn’t caught up yet. Maybe the concealment spell on top of the stone sleep had been too much.

“Only Gawain and his brother have awakened,” said Tamsin, still on her knees at Arthur’s feet. She’d answered the question at least twice before. “Something has gone wrong with the magic.”

She cast a sideways glance at her father. He didn’t look well, and she worried about the blow he’d taken to his head.