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But in my heart, I already knew. To assert his power. To send a message reminding the nobles of how quickly that power could be exercised.
“I suppose the king may have been making an example of him. Perhaps there is more going on behind the scenes than we know,” Galahad said, obviously desperate to justify what had taken place.
“Perhaps,” I said evenly. I had never been able to be entirely open with Galahad and Lancelet about just what kind of a king I expected my brother to turn out to be. Especially not when it was my fault he was on the throne now in the first place.
I raised a hand to my head, pushing back my hood and massaging my scalp. I had wound my braid into a tight knot at the back of my head and suddenly was desperate to let it down. “I’m sorry, Galahad, but I’m more tired than I thought. Please thank Merlin for... well, for whatever she said to put Kaye at ease.”
Galahad nodded.
I tugged my hood back up over my hair and walked towards one of the doors to the left of the dais.
The hall was still filled with nobles and courtiers. Those who had been covered in blood and screaming must have been tactfully removed for cleaning.
A face caught my attention as I passed.
A tall, raven-haired man in leather armor was leaning against the wall apart from the rest of the crowd. His gaze was fixed on the throne–Arthur’s throne. His green eyes burned with a fierce intensity.
The giant from the training courtyard, I realized with a jolt. I could see the turmoil in his expression and wondered what could have caused such a reaction.
His head shifted slightly and I followed his gaze to where the fae-blooded boy’s body had fallen.
The body was already gone. Servants had carried it away. Now other servants crouched on the floor, gathering up the blood-soaked reeds and flowers and shoving them into baskets to be disposed of. The blood would soon be scrubbed away and fresh roses placed once more upon the floor.
In a few minutes, there would be no trace left of the horror we had witnessed in the name of our king’s justice.
I looked back at the dark-haired man’s face. His lips were twisted in clear revulsion for what he saw.
I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for the stark honesty of his expression–foolhardy though it was to show such feelings.
Before I could reach the spot where he stood and covertly pass him by, he pushed away from the wall and stormed out of the room, his heavy footsteps echoing through the hall.
I followed at a slower pace, making my way to a staircase leading up to the upper floors of the castle where my own suite of rooms lay in one of the towers.
My body felt tired and heavy. My feet plodded along on the shallow stone steps.
Part of me wished I had gone with Lancelet. That I hadn’t returned to the Great Hall at all. But long ago I had told myself that bearing witness to Arthur’s cruelty was itself an act of defiance. And that someday, I would do much more to defy him.
Even now, I could have escaped the oppressive atmosphere of the castle and gone out into the gardens for a walk as twilight fell.
But it was time to take my medicine.
