Knight of the Goddess (Blood of a Fae, #4)

by Briar Boleyn

“You look like you’re tracking an animal.”

How many deep breaths did she take?

“I agree,” I said quietly, looking ahead at my friend and the woman I believed was now her lover.

Why did she describe them as trying to be discreet earlier when they are leading the group while holding hands?

Children played in the small spaces between the tents, their laughter sharply contrasting with the looks of worry and despair in their parents’ eyes.

I hope they are leaving the area cuz they are awful close to the bad man…

“Yes. Your aunt told Crescent before she left. In case she never made it back. And Crescent told me.” A blaze ripped through me. Odessa saw. “I know,” she said. “He should have told you. Over and over again. A child needs to be told. It’s not like Crescent to be so thoughtless. You were old enough to be told. I’m sorry, Medra.”

Exactly.

“Your aunt? Draven? They left to save you, Medra. Not because they didn’t care.”

Finally! Thank you Odessa! YOU are the real MVP in Pendrath right now! Maybe even the whole of Eskira for what you are for this child…being?

“But to protect. They left to protect you. They left to do something important. Something that will protect not just you but so many people. Everyone in Pendrath. Perhaps everyone in Eskira.”

Ok, why’d you had to add everybody else in there. Now you’ve made it mundane to her. Should have left it at protecting her. Smdh. I spoke too soon about your value… author just messed you up.

“So they didn’t care about me. They cared about everyone,” I shot back.

See. Smdh.

Weak and pitiful. They were the worst things to be.

How does she even have this concept in her head? Who told her that?

Lancelet’s eyes were troubled. “How could she have been hiding this from me?” She glanced at me and then quickly looked away, but I knew what she was thinking. “It’s not your fault. If you’re blaming yourself, stop.

You obviously DON’T know what she’s thinking if you said that. I doubt she’s blaming herself, but she most likely is blaming you.

“If anyone should feel guilty right now, it’s me. She must have drained herself shielding me. Staying awake too long.”

And the fact that ALL of you knew that the young HUMAN girl was having to stay up so Morgan could sleep and NO ONE tried to find a way for her to sleep in the day or something shows how much y’all really cared.

We spent at least eight hours on the road, but paused for a midday meal. And usually Guinevere would sleep for an hour or two at that time. At night, she made me sleep for at least six uninterrupted, blissful hours after taking five or six for herself.

How is this even logical to the author? Only 8 hours on the road a day, but they are riding hard? 5 and 6 hours of sleep a piece? So she’s trying to say they spend more hours sleeping than they do on the road because it means everyone else is getting 11 hours each night… 🙄🙄

I thought I could last the night, but suddenly found myself wishing I had availed myself of the chance to sleep when I had it the night before instead of lying there worrying about the road ahead.

Maybe this is why she’s like that. When she’s shielding you and you’re supposed to be sleeping but aren’t, your wasting and draining her power/energy because she can’t “not” shield during that time just in case you actually fall asleep. Idiot.

Hawl nodded. “There must be many bandits roaming these lands. These people are easy pickings.” “I wonder if they’ve been attacked before. There can be safety in numbers,” Gawain observed. “We could offer to help keep watch.” “Their leader—or whoever that man was—seemed to have a solid look to him,” I said.

They seemed to have no problem letting y’all strangers walk right in where their kids are playing…

Hawl nodded. “There must be many bandits roaming these lands. These people are easy pickings.” “I wonder if they’ve been attacked before. There can be safety in numbers,” Gawain observed. “We could offer to help keep watch.” “Their leader—or whoever that man was—seemed to have a solid look to him,” I said.

They seemed to have no problem letting y’all strangers walk right in where their kids are playing…

The camp was on the move. They had stopped only to rest a night or two before advancing westward. The same direction we were going—westward, then north into the mountains.

And no one’s going to question why this group would be going UP into the mountains that were said to harbor evil a bad fae by other Rheged natives? No one finds that strange at all? And on top of that the woman gave Guinevere a “sleeping draught” and now Morgan’s dreams can’t be blocked. It’s all so suspicious how Madoc saw her passing out when Lancelet didn’t and she’s always watching her… it’s like something made her pass out… then his wife just so happens to be the healer…

It had been a long day. And we were all worried about Guinevere.

No, you’re only worried about her because you can’t sleep.

I thought of the path we were on and the destination it led to. The Black Mountain. My father and siblings. My father’s court.

Now think of why these people are on the same path..

What sort of a court could exist within a mountain? I couldn’t imagine.

But it’s okay that Myntra exists in a volcano…🙄🙄

and I quickly pulled clothes on.

Why didn’t she have on clothes? She undress Draven, not herself…

“Draven,” I said desperately, lifting my hands to try to shield him, knowing it was far too late. “Draven, no.” A sob escaped my lips. “Draven. Please. Don’t look.”

Don’t look? So… when this beast that was Gawain attacks, he won’t have a clue?

His hands were curled into fists by his side. He hadn’t even reached for his blade. I closed my eyes, knowing what I might have to do.

Might have to do? Might? What in the hell…

All I could think of was how were we going to tell Crescent? How were we going to tell Taina?

That’s what I’ve been thinking since he first got the grail out of the saddlebag… it was clear he would die on this mission, though I didn’t think of this as a possibility.

“Where is she?” I looked down, hardly seeing Draven.

Girl, STOP! It’s his best friend of a hundred years or more and YOU are trying to act like you’re grieving more than him? Oh please it’s not about you Morgan.

For a moment, I had no idea who he was talking about. Then I remembered.

So once again… you had ONE job Morgan. ONE. Keep your eyes on the enemy, your sister currently, and protect these people and your friends. Especially after she just said she had enough of that crap for ALL of your friends. Freaking useless idiot.

I turned towards the sea of tents behind us, my heart pounding. “The camp. The refugees.”

Really? Who else could it have been? Where did you think she went after the threat of having more of that crap for your friends? Idiot

His skin was a deep shade of obsidian. Dark, braided hair hung around his shoulders

His hair was darker than his obsidian skin?

“Lorion,” I murmured to Draven. The most brutal of our father’s generals. And he carried my father’s spear.

So much for not having dreamt earlier… obviously the whole family knows where you are now.

Worse than anything I had felt with Fenyx. How could it be this bad, I wondered?

Obviously something was on the arrows then..

My sister was already there, no doubt leaving a trail of blood and destruction in her wake. I knew what she was doing, what she must be looking for. The sword. The grail. And when she found them? What would she do with the people left behind?

Lordt… we all can guess what she’s doing, but opulent it be better if you actually did something instead of just… ugh.

He was lowering me to the ground. I knew he had to. There was nothing else he could do.

But he’s not going to pull the arrows out at at the very least break them off?

In a deliberate motion, I swiftly pulled. The barbed arrowhead caught, lingering on flesh and sinew, resisting removal.

Why didn’t she break off the end and push it through? Lordt…

My mate moved with calculation, parrying my brother’s thrusts. I could see that both were deadly fighters. As Lorion moved, I thought of the countless battles he must have fought by my father’s side. He was older than Draven. Perhaps more experienced.

Did you pull the arrows out just to lay there and watch Draven and Lorion or to actually DO something to save the people and your friends? My word. She is garbage. .

I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of clashing weapons and the cries of desperation coming from the camp. My mind felt urged to action.

I guess that’s all you can do then…

A carrion bird. A harbinger of death. Was it waiting to feast upon Gawain? Or upon me?

Does it really matter?

The bird’s expression, if it could be called that, was one of ample frustration. As if I were not doing what she thought I should be.

Yeah, Tuva. You are me both…

An awakening was taking place within me.

🙄🙄 Lordt… Her awakening just happens to happen after someone important dies… every single time…

A wellspring of energy waiting to be harnessed. And I had never truly tapped its full potential. Not really. I had used what seeped out of me.

Ramble much? You mention the power and then you talk for many paragraphs before you actually take action on what you realize or discover. Ridiculous.

So there would be no more speeches.

But… you’re still talking and he’s not dead… 🙄🙄

I watched as Draven lifted the spear, his muscles rippling beneath his tunic, his eyes locking onto my brother’s face. Then with a powerful rotation of his torso, he released the spear.

The visuals on this is confusing… if he released the spear after lifting it, wouldn’t it just fall to the ground? What would be the point in twisting his torso. Now, if the thrust the spear on the other hand, that would make a lot more sense and I could actually see that…

Lorion le Fay. Long may he lie forgotten.

And her brothers were supposed to be long lived and talented powerful generals…. They died so easily, subdued so quickly after revealing themselves… the author really knows how to keep a character… in character. (Sc)

“It wasn’t the spear.” I couldn’t keep the disappointment from my voice.

Yep… and while you’re doing that, your sister is still murdering and metamorphosing people and the children and those wolves are ravaging people… so yeah, you’ve got plenty of time for this…

The refugee camp was in turmoil as we entered. Above the camp, a red fog hung in patches, casting an eerie canopy of light. We passed between the tents, stepping carefully over tangled bodies. Red tendrils spilled from lifeless mouths.

Just casually walking along through all the carnage, huh? Never mind Guinevere is dead asleep (probably) and Lancelet is probably trying to protect her while Hawl is trying to protect the kids or some shit… just take your sweet time seeing the sights…

Across the makeshift road, more wolves snarled, chasing fleeing refugees. Draven looked towards the wolves. I knew he longed to go after them and stop their slaughter. But he would not willingly leave my side. Nor give up his chance of vengeance upon my sister.

Wow. After seeing you heal yourself, walking with you and killing your sister is more important than saving the lives of these defenseless civilians that are being attacked because of your kind’s dumb war, the fae kind… way to go Draven and author…

“First Tempest,” I said, my voice low. “Then the wolves. We’ll finish this then aid the camp.”

Or split up and do both. Pretty sure Draven’s shadows could take out a number of wolves in an instant and give the humans a fighting chance… 🙄🙄

Meanwhile, dancing around the small stone circle where we had made our fire the night before were Lancelet and Tempest. Lancelet held Excalibur.

Lancelet is the real MVP!

The blade had fought for her once, yes, but only at my urging.

And you told the blade she was worthy so… did that only mean she was worthy in that moment? 🙄🙄

I felt a surge of affection towards the sword as well as panic at the idea that Tempest had gotten this close to it.

And yet you just watch instead of helping… the human against the powerful, magical, deadly fae… smooth. Real smooth.

Excalibur was allowing her to wield it, yes, but there was a difference between wielding the sword and surviving, and wielding it and succeeding. Lancelet’s movements were becoming more and more labored as she tried to keep pace with Tempest’s assault.

And yet, you just stand and watch…

She yelped and twisted, Excalibur’s light flickering as the pain from her wound washed over her. In an instant, Draven was in front of her, his own longsword out, shadows wrapped around its hilt.

At last someone finally thought to jump in to take over… 🙄🙄

“Your mate fights well, little sister,” Tempest screeched.

Was Tempest the one he mother was going to seek out for help? Since the author fails to recap important things, or seemingly important things from before, it’s hard to follow at lot of the story.