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“About Kaye?” I asked sharply.
Camelot had many healers and the foremost of them had been brought to the castle over the last few weeks. But the only two I truly trusted to care for my brother were Guinevere and Kasie. The others seemed completely bewildered by Kaye’s state and determined to only offer physical remedies and answers. One had even claimed Kaye was fully conscious and choosing to remain prone—even though that was obviously not true, for my brother did not eat or drink yet remained exactly the same day after day.
That healer had been sent swiftly packing.
Lancelet nodded. “There’s a fine apothecary among them. Kasie sent for some herbs.”
I felt my shoulders sag. “Oh. I see.”
“Nothing has changed,” Lancelet said gently. “You would be the first to know if anything had happened, Morgan.”
I nodded, then eyed the roost where the sounds of roars and tearing flesh had started to emanate. The crowd around us looked simultaneously disgusted and delighted.
“Why don’t we skip walking to the temple? As you said, you’ve just come from there.”
Lancelet frowned. “You don’t wish to speak with Guinevere after all?”
“No, I do. But why don’t we fly? You’ve never ridden on Nightclaw, have you?”
“No, but I...” Lancelet began.
“Excellent. You’re not frightened, are you?”
She frowned. “Of course not!”
“Good. Then I’ll deliver this, ask his permission, and we’ll go.”
“Ask his permission?”
But I’d already started to walk away. I caught Draven’s eye for a moment. He seemed to understand.
“I’ll be here, waiting for you to get back.” He flashed me a grin. “Without Medra.”
The wooden doors of the roost swung open as I stepped through, but I quickly pulled them shut again behind me. I could hear a few sounds of disappointment from the people waiting and hoping to catch a glimpse of the exmoors.
But as far as I was concerned, they had already had the privilege of seeing Nightclaw fly overhead and land with his catch.
The battlecats weren’t pets or performing animals in some sort of a circus or play. They deserved their privacy.
They had already been remarkably patient with all of the fuss they’d been receiving. If I were one of them, I realized, I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to show the same restraint in not eating the crowd already.
With that in mind, I made a mental note to instruct Sir Ector to have visitors’ access restricted to just a few hours at midday. The circus had gone on long enough, and our exmoors had been more than patient.
Blinking in the sunspecked light, my eyes quickly adjusted to the shadows of the overhang above.
Across from me, in the center of the tower, the two exmoors were engrossed in devouring the deer Nightclaw had brought back. I knew they’d sensed me entering, so for a moment, I simply watched.
Nightclaw’s dark ebony fur, thick with golden stripes, gleamed in the broad rays of sunlight from the opening above. I smiled to myself. How beautiful my exmoor was. How far he’d come from that first day I’d met him in the royal menagerie, when his sleek and lustrous fur had been so matted and unkempt, his gold stripes dulled by neglect and malnourishment.
Sunstrike’s coloring was more subdued, but she was no less lovely. Her gold-brown fur blended with the courtyard’s hues as she matched her mate’s fervor in feasting upon the fresh, raw meat. Both cats’ wings were furled by their sides, quivering in anticipation as they ate.
I hesitated, glancing down at my tray, uncertain as to whether the cats would have an appetite for more.
But as I waited, Nightclaw let out a deep rumble and stepped away from the deer, gave a languid stretch, licked his lips, and then padded over to me.
Our eyes met in unspoken recognition, and I felt a thread of happiness weave through me. Tucking the tray under one arm, I reached out a hand and gently stroked his head, right between his tufted, lion-like ears.
“I’ve missed you,” I said softly, feeling his happiness at seeing me, sensing his contentment. “You did well hunting today. That deer is huge.”
