I forced my jaw to relax and stepped closer to them for another hug. “Alright.”
Kingston
Landon and I spent the drive back to Pendragon in silence. Both lost in our thoughts. After my father had shown up, I’d appeased him quickly before we’d gone to Winchester Hall. Finding Quinn unconscious, covered in blood, was a sight I hoped I’d never see again.
As much as I wanted to be furious with Max Dread, I struggled to hold it against him.
I understood it. His want to protect her. The fierce need to keep her safe, even at the cost of her outrage.
But I’d been right about her.
She was exactly what Camelot Court needed, and she wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t. And we wouldn’t lose her for it.
When the gates of Pendragon Estate appeared, I glanced at Landon. He sat stiffly, staring out the window. No doubt processing everything that had occurred today.
His memory had returned. He recalled what happened to his mother, but how much of the story he had I wasn’t sure.
He still hadn’t asked me to fill in the gaps, and as difficult as it was, I had to respect his need for time.
But the explanation threatened to close off my throat.
It lodged there, ready and waiting. Fear kept a constant pressure on it, threatening to release it too soon.
Fear I’d lose him over it.
Fear he’d remember parts I fought so hard to forget.
The car pulled to a stop at the top of the driveway, and the driver exited to open my door. With my father at Pendragon, formalities I rarely cared for had to be observed, so I waited until he released me from the car.
I climbed out and smoothed my palm over my suit.
My fingers trembled as I stared up at my home.
An odd sound I couldn’t place came from inside, muffled by the distance. I hurried around the car as Landon climbed out, another sound—a crash—taking us both by surprise.
Our eyes met, and we raced to the front door.
When we walked inside, the last thing I expected to see was my father, lost in a fit of rage. Drake D’Arthur always kept himself together. Eerily calm, deceptively level-headed, with the monster inside him kept at bay.
But he’d unleashed it in our absence.
In the foyer, glass shards littered the floor. An entryway table had been overturned, and panes on the parlor doors had been knocked out as if punched through with his fist.
Landon’s eyes widened in time with mine, and we stepped around the debris to follow the sound of his voice. He bellowed from deeper within Pendragon.
“I think he’s in Camelot Courtyard.”
Racing there, we found my father tearing across the terracotta stones. As we stood in the entrance to Camelot Courtyard, he rushed Max. Red-faced, spitting with rage, he bellowed, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, boy?”
While he matched my father’s height, Drake D’Arthur’s wide and solid frame put even Max Dread’s stature to shame. But where the other Knights and Ladies watching from theirdoorways cowered, Max stood his ground. Chin lifted, he held his gaze and wielded his smug tone with practiced ease.
“I took the girl for a drive. So, what?”
“You’ve added another mark against?—”
“Did I? Because Quinn Everly is in a jail cell with her future on the line. You think she’s coming back here while she deals with that?”
“If you’re wrong, boy…”
