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Lyonesse was being informed. They had sent no troops to the Battle of Brightwind as it had already been named. Without the help of one of our stitchers from Myntra, they had not even known the battle was taking place until it had been far too late for them to do.
The troops that had arrived to support Brightwind had been from Pendrath, bolstered by the extra troops from Myntra that Draven and I had kept stationed in Camelot as a precaution.
Pendrath, Sorega, Tintagel. Each kingdom’s troops had sustained heavy losses. Tintagel’s were by far the worst.
Though our friends had arrived late, Pendrath had held its own.
Now Gawain sat on the other side of the room nursing a broken arm on a chair along the wall, while beside him, Dame Halyna’s left eye was covered with a patch that she likely would wear the rest of her days.
“We must attack immediately, sire,” a tall, hawk-nosed noblewoman boomed, pounding her hands on the table to get King Mark’s attention.
The king of Tintagel was a wary man, I saw. Unwilling to rush headfirst into anything, even after suffering such a brutal and unexpected attack on his people.
“That would be madness,” Draven said, rising to his feet and towering over the table to glower at the woman. “You don’t even know who to attack in the first place, let alone where to attack them.”
“Rheged,” a different advisor shouted from further along the table. “Obviously this was Rheged’s doing. How can there be any question?”
“They came from the west,” others agreed. “Rheged. Yes, it must have been Rheged.”
“We hardly have contact with Rheged,” King Mark said quietly. “What reason could they have to attack us? And with fae armies, besides.”
“The fae came from Rheged,” the first noblewoman insisted. “They marched in from there. That is all the reason we need to counterattack.”
Draven shook his head derisively. “You’ve just sustained heavy losses. Do you really think you have the forces to attack Rheged without even knowing what awaits you there? Furthermore, where exactly in Rheged would you hit? The western border? That’s a vast swathe of territory for an army to cover, let alone one that’s just been weakened substantially.”
“Our weaknesses are none of your concern,” the noblewoman snapped. “You have no place here in the first place, fae-blood.” She spat on the floor beside her. A murmur went through the room.
“Sir Joaquin, kindly escort Lady Izana from the council chambers,” King Mark commanded. A dark-haired man nodded grimly and marched towards the offending lady.
King Mark looked around the table filled with his mortal nobles and advisors.
And then there was us. My friends and me. The fae empress with her strange markings, her fae husband with his horns, a Bearkin, a scarred knight, a High Priestess too young to be one. We were rather a strange ensemble of misfits by any estimation.
“Morgan Pendragon is fae, as is her husband,” the king said slowly. “You all know this. You are also aware that both are our allies. And after today, we should count ourselves extremely fortunate to have them.”
“Unless they were a part of this,” Lady Izana shouted as she was prodded from the room by Sir Joaquin. “They might have conspired with the attackers.”
“What utter rubbish,” said a dark-skinned, elegantly-attired woman seated near King Mark.
Queen Camille had remained mostly silent, but now, she rose to her feet. “We do not dishonor our allies, Izana. That is not the Tintagel way. Was I the only one watching from the battlements as the fae empress”—the queen pointed across the table to me and every head in the room swiveled in my direction—“summoned some sort of shield to protect not only the battlefield but this entire city?”
I cringed. Apparently, the shield had been larger than I could ever have hoped for.
“She saved you and your children, Izana,” the queen called after the noblewoman. “As she did mine. The Empress Morgan and her husband had nothing to do with this attack.” She looked around the table. “Nothing. And anyone who thinks they did or who harbors such ignorant phobias of the fae will kindly leave this room now. We have no time to waste on such idiocy. Not when we need every ally we can get.”
For a long moment, the queen looked at me, and I was terrified she would sink to the floor in a gesture of obeisance. But instead, Queen Camille simply nodded her head gracefully—a gesture between equals. Gratefully, I quickly nodded back, then watched as the queen sat back down beside her husband who was looking at her appreciatively.
The debate as to what Tintagel should do next and how to do it quickly resumed, though more politely this time.
A hand touched my arm. “You look exhausted.”
I glanced over at Guinevere. “I slept badly.”
In fact, I hadn’t slept yet at all. We had been welcomed into the palace after the battle. Draven and I had been given a suite, and we had bathed then retired.
I had listened to the rhythm of Draven’s breathing as he slept. But I had not dared to close my eyes.
Instead, I’d clutched the sheets, trying to stay awake. Afraid of what might happen if I let myself fall into a dreamworld again.
