Page 26

“Whatever.” Tamsin made a show of checking Angmar’s wounds, but her pulse pounded with an aftermath of emotions. The day had been too full of unexpected blows, leaving her hurt and furious and oddly lonely.

But maybe not alone. Gawain’s presence in the tiny apartment prickled along her skin. He was doing exactly what Richard had done—seeing the witch and forgetting the woman. Seeing, and flinching away in fear and disgust no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Tears stung Tamsin’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

She mixed the second potion for Beaumains and watched while Gawain held his brother’s head so that he could drink.

Gawain showed such tenderness, it made her throat ache—in part because it was beautiful, and in part because she was beginning to understand that open love was something he would never show her.

In search of relief, Tamsin retreated to the balcony.

The cold air slipped over her like an icy glove, but it barely penetrated her mood.

She gripped the iron rail, fingers worrying the rusty patches eating through the cheap white paint.

A sudden pain made her snatch her hand away as a sliver of metal drew blood.

She sucked at the wound, the fresh hurt only adding more fuel to her foul temper.

Tamsin felt a wall of warmth behind her. She hadn’t heard Gawain’s approach but knew he was there as surely as if he’d touched her. She turned, her finger still in her mouth. Gawain’s face was hidden by shadow. Still, she felt the weight of his gaze.

“You are hurt.” He reached for her, but she stepped back, clenching her injured hand into a fist at her side.

“The paint hid the sharp place.” Tamsin’s breath escaped in sharp puffs of mist. “Is that how you see me, as an everyday face painted over creeping corrosion that eventually wounds whoever is foolish enough to touch it?”

His frown was perplexed. “I have offended you.”

“Have I done anything but help you?” she said, her voice dropping to a low rasp.

“I’ve risked my life. I’ve healed your wounded.

I’ve faced your enemy for you, and you still treat me like something foul.

” And she’d slept with him, but she would choke before she brought that into the argument. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.

“Because you are a witch?” The words were soft, almost apologetic. But not quite.

Tamsin’s temper rose another notch. “Yes. You have a problem with magic, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Gawain made a noise that was almost a laugh and came to stand beside her at the balcony rail. He leaned his arms on it, shaking his head. “I beg your forgiveness.”

“Then I think you owe me an explanation.”

He remained silent for a long moment. “Once upon a time, before she was ever Queen of the Faeries, my aunt, Morgan LaFaye, set a challenge for the Round Table. It was Christmas, and Arthur loved to have games and challenges at his revels. He boasted that, far and wide, his knights were the most chivalrous, honorable and courteous warriors there were. Within the hour, a strange knight showed up to test us. He was, of course, sent by my aunt.”

“Why are you telling me a story?”

“To answer your question.” He kept looking out at the city, not even turning his head. “The strange knight promised to allow one of us to chop his head off if we would allow him to return the favor in a year’s time.”

“And what was your first clue that this was going to end badly?” Tamsin asked, leaning her back against the rail so that she could study Gawain’s face, but he kept it turned away. “And why is this in any way relevant to me?”

“The knight was green, head to toe.” Gawain kept talking, his voice soft. “That should have tipped us off that there was magic involved, for green is the color of enchantment. But we were drunk at the time and more than usually stupid. I volunteered.”

“To cut his head off?”

“He asked for it.”

“But how...” She couldn’t see what this had to do with her being a witch.

“I did the deed as requested, and then he picked up his head and rode away. By the time I sobered up, I was terrified, for I was honor-bound to face him the following Christmas. Face him and die.”

Tamsin caught her breath. “Oh.”

“I went. Honor demanded it. My road led to the Forest Sauvage.”

“That’s where the Green Knight lived?”

“Yes. Sir Bertilak—for that was his name—and his lady were most hospitable once I arrived.”

“Was Lady Bertilak green, too?”

“No, but she always wore green. She was smart and beautiful and gracious. In fact, she was such a good hostess she offered to climb into my bed.”

“She what?” Despite herself, Tamsin was drawn into the tale.

Gawain finally turned to her, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“It was all part of Morgan’s test, to see if Arthur’s knights were truly good, or if they would abuse the hospitality of their host. If I’d accepted the good lady’s offer, I would have offended her lord and lost my head, for sure.

Because I respected my host’s honor and did not take his wife, he let me go. ”

“And this Lady Bertilak still did her best to seduce you, even knowing it might kill you?”

“That was the test. She was most persuasive in those last days before the trial. After all, why not take what I wanted when I was about to perish anyhow?”

Tamsin began to see where this was going. “She used despair as a weapon.”

“And she had magic and considerable beauty on her side. I am ashamed to say that I came close to the edge.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.” Gawain straightened, folding his arms. “That’s why I always wear green. It reminds me to remain humble, because even the best knight can stray from his duty. Especially when it comes to lovely witches.”

Tamsin bristled. “That seems a little harsh. You came through it in one piece.”

“I should have known better. I am susceptible where magic is involved.”

“I’d say there was ill will involved.”

Gawain’s face was stony. “Perhaps, but magic always makes things worse. It can turn a game into a trap where the unwary might lose his head.”

She drew herself up, temper rising again. “And it can save a life just as quickly. I won’t entertain the belief magic is bad in and of itself. Not for one second.”

“I believe you,” he said softly, contradicting all her expectations.

“But one deed leads to another. No one begins believing they will be evil, but magic allows them to take an easy path. So a gray deed leads to a black one, and soon the one wielding the magic has lost all sense of right and wrong.”

Tamsin was about to deny it, but the words died on her tongue. “I can see why you say that. LaFaye is your aunt, but she didn’t warn you against taking the Green Knight’s challenge.”

That made him laugh, and it was bitter. “Warn me? That would require a capacity for affection she does not possess.”

“But your mother was her sister. That should have made her spare you.”

His expression didn’t change, though the lines beside his mouth deepened. “LaFaye and my mother did not waste time on sentimentality. I watched my mother skin a man alive so that she could dupe his wife by wearing his face.”

“What?” Tamsin’s hand went to her stomach, afraid it would revolt. “Magic that dark has always been forbidden. Did anyone do anything about it?”

“My brother Agravaine. He killed her.”

Sick with dread, Tamsin turned his words over in her mind, but her thoughts shied away from their meaning. The pictures they painted were too awful. “I don’t know what to say. That’s far beyond my experience.”

“I would not wish it any other way.”

Her hands had gone cold, as if her blood had ceased to flow. She’d come out on the balcony because she was angry with Gawain, but now she wanted to comfort him. “You can’t think all witches are like LaFaye or your mother. We just aren’t. Most of us are just ordinary people.”

Tamsin raised her fingers to touch his face.

He stiffened but didn’t draw back, allowing her to trace the angles of his jaw.

He was warm, his cheek rough with dark stubble.

It struck her again how Gawain seemed more alive than any ordinary man.

He was so full of passion and regret, it stopped her breath, as if he carried an electrical charge.

Too much contact with him might stop her heart.

His hand came up to caress hers. At first, his thumb traced her palm with gentle pressure, his fingers lacing through her own. He pressed her hand to his cheek, turning into her touch so he could leave a kiss on her fingertips. Then he pulled her hand away.

“I believe you mean well.” He took a step back, leaving cold air between them. “I am sorry I wounded your feelings.”

“Okay.”

He hesitated, seeming momentarily uncertain. “Mordred held every advantage tonight, and it was too much like the past. I could not save people I love from harm.”

She wasn’t sure what past he referred to. His childhood? Or the strange game he’d played with the Green Knight? Or some other terrible scene he had lived through? “We got out together. We make a good team.”

He gave her a brief, courtly bow that put even greater distance between them. “I thank you for that. I am in your debt, and will uphold our bargain.”

With that, Gawain retreated inside, leaving Tamsin more confused than before.