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“The bloodshed was too much for you, Sister? Even though this man committed it for your sake? What wonderful gratitude.” He laughed loudly, looking at Draven, as if expecting the guard to join in. Then he threw up his hands, his face hardening once more. “You are a fool, Sister. Do not trust the people and their whining words. They would like nothing better than to see us dead. They envy what they cannot have, as most peasants do. You play right into their hands when you wander outside, ignorant and unguarded. From now on that ends.”
“What do you mean?” I asked quickly. “Am I to be confined to the castle grounds? Followed by armed guards?”
On the one hand the protection of armed guards did not seem like an entirely terrible idea after the events of last night. But I couldn't help but chafe against the prospect of my freedom of movement and my privacy being curtailed even more than they were in the limited time that I had left.
Arthur was quiet for a moment. “What a ridiculous question. Of course not. Do you see armed guards following Kaye about?”
I tried to smile. “You only want to keep me safe. And I am grateful to you for that...”
“But if there is another incident like this one, then yes, you will be confined to the castle henceforth,” Arthur broke in, ignoring me, his voice icy. “You would do well to consider your next moves carefully. Do you understand me, Morgan? I will not be made a fool of.”
I nodded silently, knowing better than to argue.
“Guard Draven,escort Morgan back to her room,” Arthur said, rising to his feet. “This audience is at an end.” His eyes lingered on me. “Morgan, you would do well to remember that your future lies in my hands and not your own.”
I felt a prickling of unease.
“My future lies with you for now, of course, Brother. Then it shall lie in the hands of the Three,” I replied slowly.
Arthur smiled coolly. “The Three have little to do with it. I rule by divine right, and thus whatever fate I decide for you, Sister, is fitting in the eyes of the gods.”
My mouth felt dry. Did this mean that Lord Agravaine had already approached Arthur?
I opened my mouth, trying to find the courage to ask, but Arthur had already turned away.
Draven stepped up beside me and gestured towards the door.
I marched towards it, feeling mutinous.
“Does this mean I am to have an armed escort at all times? Even while walking about the castle?” I muttered to myself, not caring if he could hear.
“Perhaps that might be for the best,” Draven murmured from behind me. “Did you ever consider it?”
We stepped out into the hall. I kept up a steady pace as we walked down the corridor.
“Of course, you think it would be best,” I snapped. “You wish to contain me. It is more convenient.”
I knew I was being unjust and unfair. Based on what Arthur had said, Draven had not even been the one to go to my brother and tell him about the events of last night. I wondered who had done so. Was Florian really watching my every move?
Draven had lied to the king and claimed he had been with me all along. Had he done so to try to shield me from Arthur’s anger?
“It would be safer, not more convenient,” he corrected me. “Based on last night, you should have at least one guard with you at all times.”
I was relieved he had not suggested such a thing to my brother but refused to say this aloud.
“Believe me, I am no more safe within the castle walls than outside of them,” I spat back at him. “If someone truly wished to hurt me...”
I paused and took a deep breath. “Then they will do so. If they really want to. A guard wouldn’t be able to stop that.”
Draven said nothing, just clenched his jaw tightly. But I could feel his eyes on me as we continued to walk.
I lowered my head, my hair falling around my face in a cloud of gray. Suddenly I felt very tired. Perhaps being trapped in my room with armed guards would not be such a terrible thing after all. I could stay there for the next year and write letters to Lancelet and Galahad instead of seeing them in person. In time, they would grow used to it. In time, they would simply forget about me.
A strong hand touched my shoulder, shocking me out of my depressing daydream.
“Stop,” Draven instructed, in the tone of a man who is not used to having his will disputed. “There is something caught in your hair.”
“What–” I began. But his hand was already pushing aside my hair, brushing it back over my shoulder, giving him a clear view of my neck.
