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He walked away from me. I did not follow.
“Morgan.”
It was Amara. She had come out of the tent, but now stood, hanging back.
“Yes?”
She approached me slowly. “There’s something else I wished to speak with you about before you leave tomorrow...” She paused, hesitating.
“What is it?” I encouraged her.
“Your friend. Guinevere. She’s very weak.”
I was surprised. “I thought she’d recovered. She seems much better after the long rest you... gave her.”
Amara smiled ruefully. “Inflicted upon her, you mean. I know I should have asked first before delivering that sleeping draught.”
“It’s all right. I understand.” At least Amara’s intentions had been good, which was rare to be able to say about anyone these days.
“She’s being drained, Morgan,” Amara said hurriedly. “By what, I’m not sure. But the sleep she had was not enough. Not truly.”
“Are you a healer or a priestess?” I asked sharply. “Or perhaps part-fae?”
I was being rude. I knew that.
“Neither. None of those. But I have seen strange things before.” Amara met my eyes. “Something is draining her life force away.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“It means that what happened to your husband’s sister, the woman in the tent—”
“Could be happening to Guinevere?” I was horrified. “No! We would have seen signs before now. We would have noticed.”
Amara smiled slightly. “We see what we want to see, when it comes to the ones we love. Sometimes it’s only too easy to blind ourselves.”
“We’ll look after her,” I swore. “Now that I know...”
Amara nodded. “I thought you would. That’s all I wanted to say.”
I walked away, feeling stunned. It wasn’t mere sleeplessness that I had inflicted upon Guinevere. She had been shielding me. But did it go beyond that? Had she secretly been battling my father in her mind on my behalf, just as I had done in my true dreamings?
I had barely been able to face him and hold my ground myself. How could Guinevere be doing it?
The ground seemed to be rising up around me as I walked, blindly, aimlessly, crossing a small bridge that led over the stream.
Gawain. Rychel. Now Guinevere.
Would all our friends and loved ones fall around me? Would I lose even Draven at my father’s hands?
I walked without caring where I was going.
When I focused my eyes again, I saw I had arrived at the edge of the crumbling temple to Perun.
“You,” I said to myself bitterly, looking at the broken arch. “It’s always been you, hasn’t it?”
I touched a hand to the blade at my side.
“The grail. The spear. The sword. The dread curse of Three.” I shook my head. “A curse indeed. I bear the sword. I bear the curse.”
