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I could never do that to him.
If he was going to try to kill me, let me face him openly with a blade in my hand. I wanted to see the look in his eyes as he did it. He would find that a daughter of Pendragon did not surrender so easily. I would fight for my life. I would fight for Kaye’s, too.
My mouth felt dry at the prospect of fighting Draven to the death. No matter what he might feel for me–probably nothing or less than nothing–I had developed something towards him. I was loathe to name it. To even describe it as a feeling.
But... the thought of his death did not bring me joy.
Besides, I told myself, if he died how would I reach Valtain alone?
Draven must be carrying maps of some kind. I supposed I could find those. But what if I couldn’t interpret them or didn’t understand them?
And just how safe would I be traveling the rest of the way through the Bloodlands alone?
No. Like it or not, if Draven was using me, I had to use him right back.
I needed him to help me reach the Blade of Perun. Excalibur. Whatever the weapon was called.
But once we got to the sword, I wasn’t giving it up as easily as he seemed to think I would.
I would hold onto it no matter what the cost. I would return it to Arthur.
And then, I would protect Kaye with my life as I had promised his mother I would do.
If that meant leaving Camelot altogether, so be it.
CHAPTER 22
In the morning, Dravendidn’t get up.
Every morning, he woke up before I did and then shouted for me to wake up if I dared to remain sleeping for too long.
Now I stared at him in horror wondering if he was dead and thinking guiltily of the terrible thoughts I had in the night.
Then I saw his broad back as it trembled and shook. He wasn’t waking up because he was too fevered to do so. Just as I had been.
I walked up and crouched carefully beside him, touching a hand to his damp forehead. I was no healer, but even I could tell when a man was burning up.
