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He looked behind him at the black markings on the wall. “Those will be tough to get off.”
I shrugged. “Flame wielders need a sparring room, too.” The castle of Camelot was not just for swordplay now. Not when fae of flame and shadows dwelled within it these days.
“Gawain said you’ve been at this for hours,” I said softly. “Will you come with me now?”
He nodded.
I slipped my hand into his as we walked down the hall, studying his profile and waiting for the ceaseless intensity to drop away.
But it didn’t show any signs of disappearing.
“What’s on your mind?”
He glanced down at me, then pushed his dark hair off his forehead. “Not sure what you mean.”
“Going to play it like that, are we?” I sighed. “Why don’t I help you tell me then? Kaye is in some sort of nightmarish endless sleep and I’ve been preoccupied with him. But in the meantime, there’s been Medra to care for. You’ve taken the lead on that. She’s been... Well, you’ve become closer to her than anyone. I know you love her. Deeply.” Draven said nothing, but I knew he was listening. I took a breath. “And soon I’ll be taking you away from her. But that’s not the worst of it.”
“Oh, no?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Your sister. Rychel. We hardly talk about her. But she’s a constant pain in your heart.” For all we knew, she was already dead, a small voice in my head said. But I wouldn’t accept that. And I knew he wouldn’t either. “We don’t know what’s happened to her. And I’ve been so wrapped up in this idea that’s consumed me. Destroying the grail, the sword. Finding the spear. We don’t even know where to start. We don’t even know where Rychel is. But we need to find her. I haven’t forgotten about her. Though I know it might seem like I have. I swear I haven’t, Draven. I hardly had a chance to know her, but I care about her, too.” I swallowed hard. “At the very least, for your sake. Because your heart is aching for her loss. Aching not knowing what’s happened to her. Please don’t think I don’t know that.”
Now it was his turn to sigh. I felt his hand squeeze mine back. “I know. I know, Morgan.” I watched his broad shoulders stiffen. “As for where we start. Rychel will be at the heart of it all. I know her well enough for that. She’ll be exactly where we need to go. She’ll be where the spear is.”
“How? How do you know that?”
“She gave your father the grail,” he said simply. “She wanted to get to the heart of his power. She’ll be where the objects were kept or where they were made. We’ll find her where he is.”
“Is that why you were training so hard? Because you’re afraid we’ll have to fight him to get to her?”
“Afraid?” He said the word sharply. “I’m not afraid. Not for myself. I would gladly lay down my life if it meant getting Rychel out of there.”
My heart clenched.
“Or if it meant shielding you from danger, Morgan. Or Medra.” He set his lips in a hard line. “But we’re going right into danger. Into the worst of it. And I don’t know if we’ll be coming out again.”
My eyes widened. “Is that really what you think? You?”
Draven of all people was the source of my hope. My optimism. It felt wrong to hear him sound so bleak.
“We’re coming out again,” I promised him, with more surety than I felt. “We’ll succeed. We’ll be together.”
Draven wouldn’t look at me. His eyes studied the stone floor ahead of us. “I can’t...” He took a deep breath. “I can’t watch you go through something like that again, Morgan. Like with Fenyx. I’ll do anything to stop it.”
His hand slipped out of mine, and I watched him curl it into a fist and slam it against the other. “And I wasn’t even there for the worst of it.”
He prowled ahead without waiting for me, moving into the Great Hall.
The vast room was empty. Most of the castle was in the dining hall for supper. Even from this distance, we could catch the loud roar of voices. I had been trying to lead Draven in that direction. He needed hot food in him and then some rest.
He paused to stand before the throne of Camelot, his back rock-hard and tense.
I’d never seen him quite like this before. Simmering with something too similar to fear. It was unsettling. Strange.
I was too used to Draven being the one to comfort me. To have him always be the strongest one, the one I could lean on.
But now his strength was proving to be his weakness. If he kept pushing himself like this, he was going to snap.
How long had he been approaching this point? Hiding his true fears from me? How long had I been letting him?
