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I knew I couldn’t keep it up. I might last longer than a mortal, but eventually, I would have to surrender to sleep.
But in the meantime, I planned to hold out as long as I could. The thought of what—no, who—awaited me in my dream world... Well, it terrified me.
“You don’t need to be here for this,” Guinevere said softly. “Come. Walk with me.”
I was surprised that she had no wish to remain at the council of war, but didn’t need to be asked twice. Any opportunity to speak to the increasingly enigmatic high priestess was one not to be lost.
As I pushed back my chair from the table, I caught Draven’s eye and he nodded slightly.
Gently, Guinevere took my arm and led me from the room.
We walked in silence for a while, passing carved wooden doorways leading to chambers that held the suites of lords and ladies.
It took me a moment before I realized we were not alone. Lancelet had also left the council room. Now, she followed a discreet distance behind, ever vigilant.
We reached the end of the corridor where a large row of arched windows framed panoramic views of the azure ocean below.
The Brightwind palace bordered the sea to the north. A briny freshness filled the air as I pushed open one of the glass frames and let a cool breeze blow in.
Guinevere was very quiet beside me. The owl on her shoulder looked beyond me, staring out the window at the open sea.
“I’m surprised you left Camelot,” I said finally, breaking the silence. “I never knew Merlin to do that. Leave the temple, I mean.”
“Things were different in Merlin’s time,” Guinevere said simply.
I knew she wasn’t deliberately trying to be provoking, but still, I stiffened.
“Merlin did all that was proper,” I said.
“Oh, of course,” Guinevere agreed, looking slightly surprised. “She was a fine high priestess. She conducted herself according to the will of the Three. She did all that was asked of her, and in the end, she made the ultimate sacrifice.”
And had left Guinevere in her place without even telling me that she had chosen a successor.
“How do you even know what the will of the Three is?” I asked. It was a question I had always wanted to pose to Merlin. “It’s not as if they speak to you, is it?”
Guinevere smiled ruefully. “We don’t. We simply have to try our best and hope we’re doing what the goddesses would wish us to.”
I stared. “How on Aercanum can you ever possibly know what they wish?”
“We know they wish for peace. And for balance,” she answered. “We would not serve them otherwise.”
“Balance?” I shook my head. “At one point, my father had the three greatest objects of power in all the world. That doesn’t seem particularly balanced.”
“Yet now two are yours,” Guinevere said, gesturing to the sword I still wore at my belt.
“Not mine to keep,” I said sharply. “Mine to destroy.”
As if in answer, Excalibur’s hilt glowed briefly, then darkened.
“How did one man, fae or not, get so much power?” I said softly to the high priestess. “Can you tell me that?”
“There must be a long story behind it indeed.” She looked at me until I glanced away.
“There is another name for Excalibur. My sister used it once. Ferrum deae. Have you heard it?”
Guinevere nodded slowly. “Iron of the goddess.”
“Draven called me one. Only teasingly, of course.” Why was I even telling her this, I wondered? “I suppose I surprised him when I formed that shield. I know I surprised myself.”
