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The day my mother died, I was reading a book underneath her bed.
Next came the ones Lorea claimed to have seen with her very own eyes–and it was here I doubted her greatly while nevertheless devouring the entrancing images of the creatures from the realms of the fae.
Less fortuitous were the days on which my father would appear.
She could disarm him, charm him, persuade him. Her voice was gentle, while his was loud and harsh. I loved her. I feared him. But both were my family. Until that day. The smell of mead entered before he did. I swear I could smell it before we even heard his knock.
Instead, the voices became louder. My father stepped inside. I watched him from the knees down as he paced the tower. Even his ankles seemed angry.
Her father
“She is a beautiful woman. She is everything you are not,” I heard him spit. “I was a fool to have wed you, Ygraine. The Three know how I have rued the day.”
She overhears her father tell her mother
“I had to get out. You were the way. You will always have my gratitude for that,” she murmured, almost to herself. “But you made vows to me as well. Vows of eternal love. Have you forgotten...”
They were from him. His touch had harmed
My mother’s head had hit the stone wall beside her. As I opened my eyes, she was tilting, falling. Her sapphire eyes were open and glassy as her body hit the floor. She lay on her side, still and unmoving. I was only five-years-old. Yet I knew she was dead. My father’s legs had frozen in place.
Fifteen Years Later Bloodstains wore away. The memories of those lost faded with time, for better or worse.
Lancelet was quick and agile. She was more skilled than I–and knew it too.
Sir Ector watched closely.
might not ever be a knight like Lancelet, but this was important to me. I had been a little surprised when Sir Ector agreed these were skills I should possess.
Ector clapped slowly. “Are you sure you can’t make a knight of her yet?” Lancelet
Sometimes the tower where my bedroom lay was too quiet. Lately, various encounters with a certain someone had caused me to avoid it more and more often.
heard Lancelet yelp in surprise. We must have both run into the wall. I focused my eyes. Not a wall. A man. A huge, looming man. Standing at a towering height, he seemed giant-like in his size, his broad shoulders and muscular frame drawing my eyes up and up.
He stopped and glanced back. I swallowed, suddenly feeling the full intensity of his gaze. His eyes flickered over me with a keen, assessing look that set my heart oddly pounding. And then his expression becomes dismissive. Whatever he saw as he looked at me clearly didn’t interest him.
see you’ve met one of our new recruits. He’s a farm boy from the lowlands.
Galahad Prennell was Sir Ector’s son, but he was his father’s opposite in many
An acolyte in the temple, Galahad was dressed appropriately in a white linen robe which draped down to his ankles.
“The tavern? I would tag along, but I’ve come with Merlin.” Galahad met my eye and his smile wavered. “She’s back inside the Great Hall with the king. Your brother... He’s holding court.”
You could tell a great deal by what a monarchy chose to remember about its own history–and even more by what it
My youngest brother, Kaye, had just sat down in one of the thrones. His small, slender frame was unsuited to the large chair. He shifted restlessly, his light-brown hair falling messily around his face as if it had not been brushed in days. He was smiling a little, but I could tell he was nervous about being on display.
Unlike Kaye, Merlin sat straight and proud on the throne, her arms crossed before her, the sleeves of her gown long and flared, hanging to either side like the wings of a swan.
“I beseech you, my king,” he sobbed. “Have mercy. Am I not one of your subjects? I swear, I am no spy. Yes, I did wrong. Allow me to pay for it and accept my sincere remorse.” He held out a trembling hand, his eyes closed.
“If the boy is part-fae then his bloodline may mean he is an excellent prospect for an acolyte. As you know, many of the fae and human mixes contain traces of magic.” Merlin's voice was cool and lofty. She showed no hint of sympathy for the boy, looking at him with an expert's gaze and nothing more.
watched Merlin’s eyes narrow. She seemed prepared to say more, but Arthur was already nodding as Lord Agravaine stepped modestly back into the crowd. “I thank you, good Lord Agravaine, High Priestess. As always, your wise counsel proves invaluable.”
There were gasps from the crowd and I felt my hands start to shake. We had witnessed cruel punishments before in the Great Hall, but this... This was something both harsher and infinitely more final. I longed to push my way through the crowd, to run to Arthur and speak up as Merlin had done.
The leader of the group of guards stood looking confused. He hesitated, glancing back and forth between the boy and his king. “Now, guard.” Arthur’s lips thinned in displeasure. “Your king has spoken. Judgment is to be executed swiftly.”
He rose and gazed down at the boy’s decapitated body lying on the bed of roses and reeds, then nodded and smiled slightly as if it was all exactly as it should be. He turned and left the dais.
A tall, raven-haired man in leather armor was leaning against the wall apart from the rest of the crowd. His gaze was fixed on the throne–Arthur’s throne. His green eyes burned with a fierce intensity.
My father, Uther Pendragon, had three wives. All of them were dead now.
My father’s second wife was Arthur’s mother. Her name was Ettarde. She was young and very beautiful, but her tongue was as bitter as wormwood and she had many enemies.
Enid was my father’s third and final wife. She was young like Ettarde, but her opposite in every other way. Enid was pretty and plump and gentle-hearted, and she did what Ettarde had not. For
She died giving birth to Kaye.
Baudwin
His small frame made him seem younger than he is. He was dressed in hunting clothes which must have been borrowed from a servant. They were made of rough-spun wool and leather and were dyed a deep brown, perfect to blend in with the forest. But they had clearly been meant for someone much older, for they hung loosely on Kaye’s slender form.
watched Kaye’s face from the corner of my eye and wondered if he even knew why we were here. He’d followed me, yes, but did he understand the significance of what we were doing? Did he realize the trouble we could be in if Arthur found out his brother and sister were a part of this little group?
Florian Emrys stood leaning against the wall just outside the door to my room.
“Some of the fae may indeed have been cruel to humans. Yet our bloodlines are mingled, nearly two hundred years since the fae left Eskira, and so we must have lived alongside many of the fae in relative peace.” I could think of other less peaceful ways the bloodlines might have mingled but said nothing. “Who created all of this?”
Perun which used to be followed by past Pendragon monarchs. Hundreds of years ago,
Kairos Draven, who had killed for me.
When I opened my eyes, the door to my room was opened wider than before. Had I forgotten to lock the door? A figure stood in the opening.
Kairos Draven stood quietly off to one side looking out of a window. His hands were folded behind his back, his chin lifted.
Draven turned to glance at me and I saw the look of disgust written plainly on his face.
He passed over the picture and I quickly unwrapped it, breathing a sigh of relief as soon as the linen was removed.
whirled about. Kairos Draven stood leaning over the wooden fence. “I’ll spar with her, Sir Ector. There’s no need to bother Dame Halyna,” he said, looking over at the older knight. “I have no wish to spar with you.” I lifted my chin.
The sound of clapping drew my attention. We both turned towards the opposite side of the fence.
Arthur stood there, putting his hands together slowly. A retinue of guards stood just behind him.
Though I must say I missed all but that last part.” He let out a chuckle. “Highly entertaining.”
