Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(44)

"Oooh, you had me at mere whore," Isabel said, and wound up once again to attack.

"Isabel, no!" Arthur said. "Allow me to finish this."

He dropped his son back to the ground, knowing the pain it would inflict on his leg.

Mordred yelped.

The pain to his son was hurtful, but the words against Isabel hurt as much. "You will accord the countess the respect and courtesy she so rightly deserves," Arthur prompted. "She has never wronged you. It is you who appears to have wronged her, with words and deeds. Make this right, Mordred, or I shall drop you on that leg many more times. Or worse, I will allow the countess to have at you."

"I will."

"You will what?"

"I will attempt to set things right."

"Not good enough," Isabel said, the heat of her anger in her eyes still so strong, it could manage to warm the entire castle.

Arthur nearly groaned. "He has apologized, Isabel."

"To me, not to you." She glared daggers at Mordred. "Your father loves you. He has been doing his best to make up for the years he didn't even know that you were his son. And you have repaid him with nothing but hatred and retaliation in mean, evil ways."

"Isabel," Arthur began, but was apparently not allowed to finish, since she was . . .

On a tear.

Once again he knew not where that voice in his head was coming from, but it seemed appropriate, as Isabel appeared to be able to tear Mordred limb from limb.

She stepped even closer, right in Mordred's face. "He loves you, you little brute. He would have gladly taken you and cared for you had he known. But he did not know! He is paying penance for something that was not his fault. And you are adding to it, forcing guilt upon him. A burden he doesn't deserve to carry. So you either straighten up and treat your own father with the respect he deserves, or I will be certain to make your life as much of a living hell as you are making his.

"He has the resources to make it happen, but you are counting on his love to keep you cozy and safe. I also have the resources to make that happen, Mordred, but I do not give a rat's ass what happens to you, so hiding behind your father's love in my world is just not going to happen. Do not underestimate me. Capisce?"

"Capisce?" Mordred and Arthur said at the same time.

"Understand?" she enlightened.

Mordred nodded. "I . . . Capisce."

"Apologize."

"He needs not - "

"He absolutely does."

Mordred swallowed hard, and for the first time since e'er Arthur laid eyes upon the lad, there seemed to be no menace in his eyes. "I . . . apologize, Father."

"For?" Isabel persisted.

"For believing you had abandoned me. That you cared naught what had become of me."

"Not true, my son. Had I known ..."

Arthur couldn't go on because he felt choked by unshed tears.

Isabel pushed off from the wall. "Then I suppose it's time that you take him to your healer. He probably needs a brace on that knee."

Arthur took Mordred's waist, then hoisted him up into his arms.

"Father! I cannot be seen carried this way."

"Do you think you will be able to navigate those long steps on your own? I assure you that I will set you down should I hear another coming along. To keep up appearances, of course, that father and son are just upon a walk, discussing father and son things."

He swiveled, his son cradled close, as he so wished he had been able to do since Mordred was a babe. "Isabel?"

She turned, just as she was about to reenter her quarters. "Yes?"

"Do you know the whereabouts of your healer, Dick? I know that mine is far off this day, visiting the outlying huts of our farmers."

"Last I heard, he was cracking the necks and backs of many of your men. He is in what I believe you call the healing quarters."

"Thank you," he said, and it held meaning much beyond just directing him to her own healer. He had high hopes that she understood just how much.

"You are welcome. And again, sorry, Mordred, though you had it coming." Then she looked again at Arthur. "Yes, I do understand."

She stared at Mordred, cradled in his father's arms. "And you, you little jackass, try to figure out who is caring for you right now. He loves you, more than you know. Without his love for you, there would be a ton of his loyal men and women who would have demolished you by now. Including me."

As they navigated the steps that would take them to the healing rooms, Mordred looked up at Arthur. "She is a fierce warrior, Countess Isabel."

Arthur nodded, trying not to show strain. After all, Mordred was no babe at this time. "That she is, most when those she holds dear are threatened or hurt. Did you harm her horse, Mordred?"

"I ne'er meant it to be a lasting injury."

"'Twas a nasty, horrid thing to do."

"Yes, I understand now." He laid his head against Arthur's face, which was such a feeling unlike any Arthur had ever felt afore with his own son.

"Are you going to banish her for attacking your son?"

Arthur stopped for a moment, then kept taking the steps. "Yes. The same day I charge you with attacking her horse."

"So you would choose her horse over me?"