The Darkest Knight (Guardians of Camelot #3) - Victoria Sue Page 0,46

of perceived righteousness, there was only Arthur stopping their advance to Mercia and all England.

Charles raised his head long enough to spy Uther’s column, and he looked around for a horse. Not that being on a horse didn’t make him an even bigger target and without armor, but if he had any hope of getting near the royal party, he needed one.

He pushed on, slogging through the melee using his sword when he had to, and it wasn’t that he shied away from battle, this just wasn’t his fight. He also worried killing the wrong person might alter something. A horn was blown up ahead a second time, and cries rose. Charles slashed as a Saxon came too close with his pike and managed to avoid him. Charles swerved to avoid a sword and yanked one of their men backward in time to avoid a blade, and then suddenly he was battling three.

Two were little better than berserkers with no skill, only sheer temper, but the third was young and filled with a righteous passion. Charles didn’t want to kill him. He really didn’t, but when he also proved to have skill along with his passion, he became a different threat entirely, and Charles’s stolen sword was inferior.

The man sideswiped suddenly, and Charles had an inch spare if that, but his missed thrust brought him a little closer, and Charles managed to nick him on his sword arm, but in a flash he tossed the sword to his other at the same time as another Saxon roared and ran toward them both. Not expecting the change of direction, Charles was a moment too slow. A painful, breath-stealing moment as he felt the sword puncture his side. The man—scenting victory—drew it roughly from Charles’s skin which was a thousand times more painful, then seemed to still and topple. The soldier that had killed him from behind didn’t even have time to glance at Charles until another roar sounded victory, and suddenly Charles was on his own, kneeling in the dirt and questioning his ability to get up again.

“Charles!”

Charles raised his head, recognizing the cry, and dragged himself upright.

Kay seemed to nearly fall from a large gray horse in his hurry to dismount. “Charles? What the hell? Where did you go? I came back, but I couldn’t find you.” Charles bit off the hiss as he pressed a hand to his side and focused on Kay’s worried expression. Kay had the most expressive face. You knew what he was thinking immediately, and every emotion Kay felt was stark in his eyes.

“Are you hurt?” Kay reached out, but Charles shook his head.

“You need to get the sword. I will not be trusted if I am recognized. It has to be you.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

I could die, Charles thought for the first time which seemed ridiculous. Had he ever been alive? It was one of those questions that would be best asked when warm and lying comfortably with a naked Kay in his arms, not cold and bleeding in the midst of a battle and the screams of the dying.

Maybe even him, although he doubted his injury was serious. Could he die? The knights had immortality except in very specific circumstances, and he had kind of assumed the same, but he’d never been injured, so perhaps he was wrong. “Go.”

“We both need to get out of here.”

Charles smiled. Not because it was remotely funny, but the care in Kay’s voice warmed his chilled bones. “You have a job to do.”

“I don’t care,” Kay cried, but Charles knew he did and shook his head, but it took effort. Watching Kay leave would hurt.

Something had happened. There was a fresh hurt in Kay’s eyes. “You have to get the sword.”

“I need you to come.”

But Charles knew he didn’t. He clasped Kay’s arm. “You have to get the sword,” he whispered just as more horses thundered past. “Please. There is only you that can do it. I will be recognized and stopped, maybe killed.”

Kay nodded reluctantly and brushed a gentle kiss on Charles’s lips, seeming to steal his breath. “I will find you.”

Will he? Charles wasn’t sure about anything anymore and knew if he felt the tug of magic, he wouldn’t have the strength to fight it this time.

Chapter 13

Kay jumped on Daisy. The silly horse had barely stood a few hundred feet away from Davidas and had turned to look back at Kay as if to say she was waiting, but this horse he mounted properly