Gwen D’Morte and the Stolen Sword (The Avalon Institute Book 1)

by Eve Stone

  “A lot has happened these past few years, Tristan. If you would’ve been here, you’d know all about it.”

  “Tell me now. I’m here now, Gwen.”

  I want to scream. No matter how many times I try to remind myself that I need to let the past be the past, he’s making me crazy. His proximity is throwing me off and his words are doing things to me that don’t make sense after so many years. I want to open myself up and bleed out for him right here. I want to tell him about my lack of abilities and how hard Avalon had been at times because of it. But I couldn’t. He’s officially my competitor and I can’t give him any leverage against me. Having him this close has me on edge.

  I blow a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. Tristan stares intently into my eyes, making my skin prickle and face heat under his watchful eyes.

  “You’re beautiful, Gwen. So much more beautiful than I could’ve even imagined. I’ve thought about you every day. I’ve regretted how I left every fucking day. But there are circumstances that you don’t understand that made me stay away. Trust me when I say, I’m no good for you.”

  I frown. “That’s a bit presumptuous. I’m glad we settled that. And don’t worry Tristan, I never thought you were good for me. We’re competitors now, so watch your back because I intend to win.”

  He smiles. “I like the spirit, D’Morte.

  “Now, leave me alone,” I say, putting my head back in the book.

  His eyes remain on me for several seconds, making me squirm in my seat. I want to look up. The need to look at him is intense, but I don’t look back up. Eventually, I feel his absence as he walks away.

  I spend the next several hours determined to not think about any of the boy obstacles that we’re currently facing me. I scour every book I can regarding the Knight games. They’re brutal and so far above my abilities that I’m considering bailing out. What could they possibly say if I refused to compete? They can’t make me. Can they?

  In order to be an effective Knight, you have to have both mental and physical strength as well as magical abilities, to be able to ward off your enemies. The Knights are strong and are able to protect all of us because there is no weak link. Which further begged the question: how the hell are they allowing kids to join the round table? No matter how promising any of us are, none of us are in our full powers yet. So, what am I missing?

  Walking back that night to my room, I hear whispers coming from a vacant alcove. As I get closer, I realize it’s Chancellor Andrews and the Emperor.

  “You got it wrong,” the Emperor hisses. “Thomas is not the right champion.”

  I stop in my tracks, backtracking to hide myself. I don’t want to be found.

  “That can’t be. I’m sure of it,” Andrews says.

  “I went back through all of the genealogies for all of the champions, and Thomas is incorrect.” The Emperor sounds livid. “His bloodline is strong in Levitation, but he needs to be strong in Summoning,” the Emperor says, grinding his teeth. “Fix this.”

  I hear his loud footsteps start in my direction. I start to panic. Before too long I will be found. What would happen if he knows I’m eavesdropping? I look around frantically trying to find somewhere to hide. The small door, just barely hidden by tapestry, pokes right next to me. It’s the same closet that Lance and I had been sneaking off to when we wanted privacy. I get the door shut just in time. I hear the Emperor pass. I take a large breath of relief.

  Thomas wasn’t the right champion?

  What does that even mean? They had said that champions were going to be chosen by the professors based on a number of qualities, not just magical ability. So why is his lack of Summoning the only topic of conversation? What would they do to poor Thomas? Would someone replace him? At this moment, I know I’m right. Something is wrong. The adults are keeping secrets and I intend to get to the bottom of it.

  Chapter Six

  I hardly remember falling into my bed that night.

  The events of the day dragged me into a deep slumber and I didn’t dream. It’s an amazing break from the gruesome dreams the past two nights. Watching the men die each night is taking a toll on me. My body needs the sleep.

  However, at some point in the night I feel breath on my cheeks. My body locks up and a cold sweat breaks out. I inch my eyelids open just a bit, but only blackness meets me.

  “Gwenny.”

  I yelp at the sound of my name, jumping up and swinging at whomever was in my room. My fist gets caught by a set of firm hands.

  “Gwen, stop. It’s just me.”

  “Lance?”

  “Yes,” he whisper-yells.

  “What the hell? How did you get in here?” I screech, pulling my t-shirt down my thighs despite the fact he would have a hard time seeing me in this darkness and he’s had his hands all over me plenty of times.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve picked your lock.”

  I harrumph, falling back onto the bed. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

  He’s acted like an ass, avoids me all day, goes to the dance without me…and now he wants to talk? “I wanted to come check on you, since you never came to the ball.”

  “Did you really think I would? It’s not really something one goes to alone, and you kind a ditched me.” My tone is harsh.

  “I’m sorry, Gwen. I was pissed about Tristan being back and the Trial of Crowns...” he trails off. “Anyway, neither of those things are your fault and I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I was a dick.”

  “You’re right, you shouldn’t have and yes, you were,” I say, crossing my arms. “I never wanted it, Lance.”

  “I know,” he says, flinging himself down onto the bed beside me. “But you’ll be great, Gwenny.” He pulls me into his side. “Will you forgive me?”

  I don’t answer right away, because the fact was he had hurt me. The way he acted was so unlike Lance. It’s selfish and cruel, two things I never would’ve thought Lance could be.

  “Don’t ever do something like that again, Lance. You have no idea how horrible you made me feel.”

  He squeezes me tighter. “Never again,” he promises.

  I sigh, melting into him despite my better judgement.

  “I missed you tonight,” he says.

  “When did you have time? It looked to me like Holly chatted your ears off.”

  He snorts. “Gwen D’Morte…are you jealous?”

  “Hardly,” I retort.

  “You were there?” he questions.

  “No, I just peeked in on my way to the library.”

  “The library? What the hell did you go there for?”

  “Research. I need to figure out what I’m up against in this trial.”

  “Well, from what I know there is typically a stave duel,” he says before snapping his fingers. “Ohhh, once I heard my father talk about a maze or obstacle of sorts.”

  “Hmmm,” I say, considering these options.

  “What did you find?” he asks.

  “Not a whole lot. Mostly just Knight history. But Lance, I have to tell you something,” I whisper.

  “Sounds serious,” he says.

  “It is. I overheard the Chancellor and Emperor talking. Lucius was angry at the Chancellor because he said he got it wrong.”

  “Got what wrong?” Lance asks.

  “He said Thomas wasn’t the right champion. He said his ability favors anything, but summoning was wrong it needed to be corrected.”

  “Interesting,” Lance says. “What else?”

  “That was it. But why would that matter? They said we were chosen based on several things. Why would Thomas not favoring summoning mean it’s wrong? And didn’t they say the professors were choosing? How could Andrews get it wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Did they see you?”

  “No, I hid in our closet.”

  Lance chuckles. “My little sneak,” he says, tickling my side.

  I screech. “Stop it,” I laugh.

  “I will if yo
u promise you’ll forgive me.”

  “I forgive you.”

  “What was that?” He teases.

  “I forgive you,” I say louder, laughing.

  “Good.”

  We lay next to each other both laughing and breathing heavily.

  “Gwen?”

  “Yeah?” I ask a bit breathlessly.

  “Don’t tell anyone else about what you heard. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I answer.

  What does he think will happen to me?

  “Do you think they’ll eliminate Thomas?”

  “I really don’t know. The whole thing sounds strange. Maybe you misunderstood them?”

  “No, I definitely heard what they said, clear as day.”

  “Well, then we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  Lance stands from the bed. “I better get going,” he says.

  I grab his hand, desperate to ensure we are on our way to being back on solid ground. “Stay?” I ask. “Just for a little longer?”

  He doesn’t say a word as he sits back down on the bed, pulling me into him. In his arms I remember how safe he makes me feel. How much I missed him these past few hours. When your group of friends is small like mine, you truly appreciate the ones you have when they’re gone.

  I don’t know for how long we sit there in the dark, not saying a word, but at some point, my eyes grow heavy and I drift off to sleep. The same dream from the other night plays on a loop behind my eyelids. The last few times I’d dreamed of the dead men, it wasn’t as vivid as that first night. It’s the difference of having actually been there versus a memory recalled later. Why I’m having this horrid dream on repeat, I can’t understand. Stress? Whatever it is, it sucks.

  I wake with a start, sweat beading across my hairline.

  “What’s wrong?” someone asks from beside me.

  I scream, not expecting anyone to be in my room.

  “Gwen, it’s me,” Lance says, putting his hands on my shoulder to calm me down.

  “L-Lance?” I ask, still half asleep.

  What is he still doing in my room?

  “You stayed?”

  “I fell asleep,” he corrects.

  “What time is it?”

  It has to be around six AM. The sun was just starting to rise.

  “Early,” he says, voice full of sleep. “I better get back to my room before someone catches us.” I nod as he stands, walking towards the door. When he opens it and goes to leave, I call out, “Lance?”

  He looks over his shoulder at me.

  “I’m glad you came here.” I stand, walking toward him. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too,” he says, pulling me into an embrace.

  He places a kiss onto my forehead, arms wrapped tightly around me. It feels nice.

  “I’ve got to go. I don’t want people to talk,” he says, grinning. “Your reputation would be at stake.”

  I chuckle at his playfulness.

  “You should’ve thought about that before staying all night with her,” Tristan says from behind me.

  My body goes stiff in Lance’s arms. Noticing, he tightens his grip even more around me.

  “Got a problem with it, Locke?” Lance spits.

  “Yeah, I guess I do. You’re putting her in jeopardy.” His voice oozes with venom. “It would be her name drug through the mud. Rumors would fly.”

  “What the fuck do you know about Avalon? People here know what she means to me. They know I’d never use her like that.”

  “What does she mean to you, Lance? Seems to me that if you really gave a fuck about her, you’d consider what the Chancellor would do if he found out.”

  “Nothing happened,” Lance says a bit too loudly.

  “Doesn’t matter. She’d be in serious trouble. She was just named a champion. You’d fuck it all up.”

  Tristan’s hands drop from around me and he steps menacingly toward Tristan. I get in between them, holding my hands up.

  “We didn’t do anything. We just fell asleep,” I tell Tristan.

  “We don’t owe him anything, Gwen. What we do is none of his fucking business. He lost any right to care the day he walked out.”

  “I might not have a right to ask questions, but you can never stop me from caring for her. There will never be a day that will happen,” Tristan vows.

  Blood rushes to my cheeks. The intensity and the words he spoke did things to me that I couldn’t mask if I tried. I’m affected and if Lance doesn’t notice, he’s blind.

  “You have a funny fucking way of showing you care.”

  Lance keeps talking, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Tristan. My brows knit together, trying to figure him out. Why does he seem to care so much? He’d left without a word. Why now? Is it because he’s here and forced to see me? The thought makes me sick. I don’t want it to be about his forced visit to Avalon.

  “Gwen, tell him to leave,” Lance says.

  I turn to Lance. “I think you both better before we all get in trouble.”

  Lance’s eyes pierce mine. The hurt is evident. I can’t bear to see it, so I look to Tristan, hoping he’ll do as I suggest and leave before things got out of hand.

  “She’s right. We better get back to our rooms,” Tristan says, eyes not leaving mine. “See you around, Druitt. Gwen,” he says, tipping his head slightly before walking off.

  Lance takes off in the opposite direction, not saying a word to me.

  “Lance, wait,” I call.

  He stops, turning toward me.

  “I just wanted to diffuse the situation. He’s an ass, but he was right. We could’ve all gotten in trouble.”

  He takes a deep breath, running his hands roughly through his hair. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Okay,” I agree.

  With that, he’s gone, leaving me to wonder if we’re once again back to fighting over something I have no control over. This dance between us is exhausting. Having woken too early, I make the decision to go back to bed and try for a few hours not to think about any of my current problems.

  Late that afternoon, I remain with my head in the books of the D’Morte library. I spend my entire day sorting through every piece of literature I can find on the knights, and yet still I’m no closer to knowing what laid ahead.

  Neither the Chancellor nor the Emperor had said exactly when the trial would begin, but I know I’m running out of time. It’s one thing for everyone to assume I’m powerless, but it’s quite another to prove them all right while being mortally humiliated in the process. Plus, my research keeps me busy and prevents me from any unwanted run-ins. I’m avoiding Lance and Tristan and the library so far has proved to be a perfect escape.

  “Find anything good?”

  I groan at the sound of Tristan’s voice. Could a girl get one day of peace from her problems?

  “Nope, or else I wouldn’t be here.” I admit.

  A second later, the chair across from me screeches across the floor. Tristan’s occupying the space, furthering my annoyance.

  “By all means, join me,” I say, oozing with sarcasm.

  He laugh, earning him a glare.

  “I came with a proposal,” he says.

  My lips thin as I remain silent.

  “Since we’re both champions, I figured maybe we could help each other.”

  I raise my eyebrow skyward.

  “Isn’t that the opposite of competition?”

  He shakes his head. “To win, you have to have alliances, and I am proposing we strike one up.”

  I close the book I’ve been reading, suddenly interested to hear where this was going. “What exactly do you mean?”

  “We share information. Train together,” he shrugs. “Whatever we need to do, to be the final two standing.”

  “There are three Knight spots. Do you intend to form an alliance with someone else?”

  I’m curious as to whether he plans to include me on any other alliance or if he’ll
be leveraging two different alliances.

  “I don’t know, we’ll see.”

  “What about Malory?”

  “What about her?”

  Why wouldn’t he want to support his school’s other champion? Shouldn’t I be doing the same with Thomas?

  “She’s from your school. Don’t you want two of the three champions to be represented by Westoff?”

  “We need strong Knights. I want the best to win.”

  He leans back into his chair, looking comfortable and cocky. I fidget in my seat, hating how effected I am by him.

  “I’m not sure Malory is the best,” he finishes.

  “And you think I am?”

  It’s a question I haven’t thought through. Do I really want him to answer that question?

  “I do. I believe in you, Gwen. I always have.”

  “Tristan, let’s not pretend like we know each other. You’ve been gone for a long time. I’ve changed. You’ve changed. We’ve been over this.”

  He leans toward the table, interlocking his fingers as if he’s praying. “So let’s get to know each other.”

  I huff. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why not?”

  “For one, we’re about to start the Trial of Crowns…”

  “And two?” he prompts.

  “And two…Lance.”

  He narrows his eyes. “What does Lance have to do with us getting to know each other?”

  I groan, not wanting to get into this now.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “So un-complicate it for me,” he presses.

  “Why do you care?”

  “Because I want to know you, Gwen,” he says, sounding exasperated. “Haven’t I made that clear?”

  “You have,” I say. “But it’s not adding up. Why now?”

  “I’m here, isn’t that obvious?”

  And just like that, all my stupid hope that this isn’t about him being forced here is shot to hell. It isn’t about missing me or wanting to know me. It’s about him feeling comfortable while he’s here. Once he leaves, he’ll do the same thing he did years ago.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not interested in being your pastime,” I say, standing and throwing my bag over my shoulder.

  I walk quickly through the library, ignoring greetings from peers. My need to get away from Tristan is greater than keeping people happy. Swinging open the heavy double doors, I blow out the breath I’m holding, believing I’ve lost Tristan.