Guinevere's Grail | ✓ [BOOK 2]

~ 7 ~

LORD HERWERDE KNEW WHAT it was the moment he saw it. It was magic, as dark as it could be, evil and chaotic and deadly. Connor had only been the King for a week and the power was already getting to his head.

"I don't think this is wise," he told the young King. "Dark magic takes twice as much as it gives."

"I hope it does," said Connor. "I want it to take and take until my people have no choice but to depend on me. And then I will help them, I will give them food and money and tools and because of me, they will thrive."

The Lord swallowed. Connor's obsession with being beloved was not a new thing. He became a stale, plain shell of a man, hoping that maybe one day, he'd be the King and his people would see how benevolent he was, that he would do anything for his kingdom.

Kit ruined that for him. It revealed his true colors, and now he needed something else to gain their favor. Herwerde didn't know why he couldn't just feed them and clothe them and help them, he didn't know why he had to take the long way. That's how he knew something was very, very wrong.

The King held up the vial, filled with steaming black liquid that burned Herwerde's senses like a heavy liquor. He was getting in too deep. Connor was going to make him do this, and if he fought it, Connor would get rid of him.

"You only need a drop," he told him. "Only one drop, and the Knights of the Round Table will be unstoppable. Would you like to do the honor of going first, my Lord?"

Herwerde gulped, cringing when Connor pushed the vial closer.

"It's yours," he said. "You were the mastermind behind it. It just wouldn't be right if I went first. This is a special moment, Connor, I think the honor should be yours."

Connor considered it for a moment, then stepped away with a manic smile. "You're right, my Lord. You're very right. Then it is decided. I will take the first drop, and then you. And then the rest of the Knights will see our power and they will join us."

The Lord watched in horror as Connor placed a drop on his tongue, closing his eyes to take it in. He was still for a moment, then he stumbled forward, catching himself on the table. He placed the vial there and stepped away again.

"I can feel it," he croaked, falling to his knees. "The power... God, it hurts."

Herwerde stepped back. Connor fell into a fit of coughs, and he didn't stop until his throat was rough. He saw his skin go pale, all the color left his face. When he opened his eyes, they were as black as ink. His veins darkened, and Connor let out a cry while the magic took its course.

He cried and he screamed and he begged for mercy, but he didn't try to stop it. His fingertips blackened, his bones sharpened, and Herwerde could feel the power radiating from him. He almost didn't think Connor could take it, but then the young King stilled.

"Finally," he groaned, chest heaving. His limbs shook when he stood, but he kept his balance. Herwerde's heart thundered in his chest, and he stepped back until his back hit the wall.

Connor was terrifying.

"You fear me, my Lord," he said. His voice was the same, but it felt darker. It sent a chill down his spine.

The King took the vial and approached the trembling Lord, placing a thumb on his bearded chin. He pried his jaw open, and Herwerde squeezed his eyes shut.

It tasted bitter on his tongue and burned the back of his throat. He could feel the evil seeping through him, but he tried to fight it.

"Fear not, Lord Herwerde," Connor whispered and stepped away. Herwerde's knees hit the stone floor. "For you will be powerful, too. You will be just like me."