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The prophecy Orcades had turned into her reason for being. For Medra’s being.
Now we flew through the sunshine. But darkness was coming. I could feel it. I wondered if Lancelet sensed it, too.
“I’m with you, you know,” she said, surprising me. “I’m with you through it all, no matter what.” She cleared her throat. “No matter what came before. I hope you know that.”
Had I? Had I known that?
“I know,” I said softly. “I never doubted you. But if ever I gave you cause to doubt me, I’m truly sorry. You are my most dear and trusted friend.”
“Friends to the end,” Lancelet said. I heard the grimness in her voice.
“It won’t come to that, Lanc,” I said, using an old nickname, one I hadn’t used since we were children, and trying to sound as if I meant it. “Besides, you’re supposed to be appointed as regent soon...”
“For fuck’s sake,” she swore. “I won’t be your regent, Morgan. Did you really think I’d go through with that? That I’d stay behind and keep a throne warm for you?”
“For Kaye,” I said automatically.
“Or for Kaye,” she concurred. “It doesn’t matter who it’s for. You’re going to have to pick someone else.”
I knew there was no point in arguing.
“Perhaps Guinevere...” I started to say, then stopped. The new high priestess would have much work of her own to do.
“Guinevere could take on anything she put her mind to,” Lancelet said. “But you’ll have to speak to her about that.”
I nodded but said nothing as I looked down over the rolling hills.
I touched a hand to Nightclaw’s warm fur. It was time to return to the temple.
CHAPTER 4 - MORGAN
I didn’t hear the goddesses’ voices when I entered their temple like some of the most devoted did. But then, I never had.
I only heard Merlin’s.
When I stepped between the white marble pillars into that familiar courtyard, Merlin’s was the face that danced before my eyes. Her lips turned into a half smile, her expression full of kindness, serenity, and wisdom.
The temple was full of echoes, memories, and death. It felt haunted to me now and always would be.
All around, worshippers milled to and fro, kneeling in prayer before the colossal statues of Devina, Zorya, and Marzanna before rising and leaving their humble offerings of flowers, grain, and scrolls.
But when I looked at the people who had come to worship, I saw shadows behind them. The forms of Arthur’s soldiers, the fallen bodies of priestesses, and beyond it all, the look on Merlin’s face as Fenyx’s blade cut through her.
“It will never feel the same, will it?” Lancelet had been leading the way. Now she walked back over to me as I stood, hesitating beneath the shadow of the temple pediment. “Not without Merlin.”
I looked past her, trying to form a response. On the edges of the courtyard lay the shrines of Perun and Nedola, the two siblings of the pantheon. Lingering on the fringes, they had always received less attention in Pendrath than the Three.
Now I saw that Perun’s altar had been recently neglected altogether. Where once soldiers had visited and laid their weapons to be blessed, now the shrine sat barren. While a few women and a man sat in contemplation by Nedola the goddess of fate’s shrine, Perun’s seemed to have been intentionally abandoned.
I supposed it made sense, considering Perun had been my brother’s favorite of the gods—and the god had done nothing to help him in the end. Now that Arthur and his cronies were dead and gone, Perun’s temple would also be neglected and unvisited.
“Did you know,” I said slowly, “that in Myntra, the Siabra have their own temples where the Three are depicted? But instead of showing the three sisters as mortal, some have fae traits.”
“I suppose that makes sense. After all, we craft the gods in our own images, don’t we?” Lancelet said with a shrug. “We always have, since the very start.”
I gave a choked laugh, then dropped my voice. “I’m fairly sure that’s sacrilege. What if... you know... she heard you.”
“Who? Zorya? She’s made of stone.”
