Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(28)

Mordred grinned and moved even closer.

Thank the gods for Tae Kwon Do. Isabel kicked the damn crop out of his hand, turned and jumped, kicking him in the belly, and had him on the ground, his hands bound with reins, within seconds. "Sorry, son, time to answer to your dad," she whispered into his ear. "He would never have let me get ahead of him. You, on the other hand, are just slow and stupid."

"You will pay for this," Mordred said.

"I'm sure I will. Your father loves you so much he will be very angry with me. Tough f**king shit. It felt too good, you little worm."

"Bitch," he spat out.

Her knee dug farther into his back. "Excuse me? I'm sorry, I believe you meant to say, 'My apologies, Countess.'"

"Apologize to the countess, son."

Isabel's head jerked up, and sure enough, there was Arthur, appearing pained and amused at one and the same time.

She attempted to rise gracefully, but that wasn't about to happen. Harry took her hand and helped her up. "I am very sorry, Arthur, but he kind of pissed me off."

Arthur moved forward and brushed hay from her clothing. "'Tis a talent of his." Then he helped his son to his feet. "Welcome home, Mordred!"

"SHOULD you care about me at all, father, you will have that woman brought before the King's Court."

Arthur sat on his throne, his head being held up by a forefinger. "Because she bested you when you attempted to whip her? I think not."

"You disagree that she deserves a beating?"

Arthur stared at Mordred, wondering how he had gone so terribly wrong as a father. "No woman deserves a beating, Mordred. Never. They are to be cherished."

Mordred laughed. "As you cherished my mother?"

"Your mother said nothing to me, son. No matter what your aunt might have told you, I knew naught of your existence until I asked of her well-being. I know it was too long, Mordred, but she never, ever told me. It never occurred to me. That is my fault, I admit. But once I learned of her death and your birth, I tried, son, I truly tried."

"So you have said." Mordred stood and paced, and Arthur almost laughed at how much this resembled his own actions.

But Mordred's anger still hung to him as dung to a bull. And smelled as poorly. "So you will choose the bitch over your own son?"

Arthur rose quickly, attempting to quell his fierce anger. "First, my son, there is no choice. Countess Isabel bested you this eve, and that is between the two of you. However, should you attempt revenge, I will most definitely come to her defense, for she has done nothing against you. In fact, her man tended to your horse. This after you planned an assault on his lady. Should you even attempt to show vengeance, I must act."

"So, one more time, you choose a woman over your son."

"I choose caring over spite. I wish one day you will understand the same."

"When, Father, did you choose your bastard son over your kingdom?"

When, son, did your mother choose not to inform me that she was carrying my child?

Once again, Arthur had no idea where this thought had appeared from. But he had to admit it was a fairly good one. "Your mother chose not to inform me she had my babe inside her. I was given no choice in the matter."

"You lie."

Arthur hung his head and rubbed his temples. "You, of course, will never believe me. However, the truth is when I learned of you, when I learned that your mother had died during your birth, I attempted to lay claim to you and bring you back to Camelot. Your aunt wouldn't allow it, as she blamed me for her sister's death.

Mordred stopped pacing. "I do not believe that."

"As I said you would not."

Arthur rose and began pacing as well. Mordred continued his. They kept passing one another. The rushes beneath their feet were taking quite a beating.

"We, Father, are at an impasse," Mordred finally said.

"'Twould seem so, my son. You may join my men, or you may join those who would take me down. 'Tis your choice."

"I am honest when I am loyal to Richard of Fremont."

That bit harshly at Arthur's heart, but he nodded. "Then, my son, you are a guest in my home. But you are a man who wishes to do harm to Camelot. Thus, you are considered an enemy. You have stated your intentions. I cannot tell you how deeply this cuts."

"As much as I was cut when you denied me?"

"I have ne'er denied you. 'Twas your aunt who - "

"Enough!"

"Fine, believe what you must. But know this, son: Should you harm a man, woman, child or animal whilst I give you comfort in my realm, I will show you no mercy. You will see the same penance as any other."

"I take note that a woman was sent to do your work this eve."

Arthur grinned. "No, I did try to stop her. But she was angry, and I did not get there in time. Regardless, son, that bruise upon your eye tells me that she won that small battle."

"For which she'll pay."

Arthur wanted to grab his son and shake him. Instead, he took deep breaths and said, "Touch her, and you will certainly suffer."

Mordred's laughter was almost sad. "And once again you choose another over your own son."

"No, son, I choose allegiance over treason. And I choose happiness over hatred. Your chosen path on both is a sad one."