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Tyre's face brightened. “And then, of course, there are our infiltrators. First and foremost of which is you.”
“I haven't exactly learned anything useful yet,” I said dubiously.
“Not yet, but I have no doubt you will. And you'll be reporting to me when you do. I visit the castle almost daily, you know. Arthur likes to make a show of going to the small temple attached to his chambers and making a display of devotion to Perun. Cavan, the priest of Perun's temple, mostly takes the lead. But out of acknowledgement to the people, Arthur often concedes to offer a small prayer to the Three.” Tyre smiled ruefully. “It is not so easy to sway an entire kingdom to give up their worship of the goddesses in a matter of months, no matter how hard the king tries.”
I frowned. “I should hope not. Zorya, Marzanna, and Devina are part of our culture. They have been for centuries.”
Tyre shot me a curious look. “Is that all they are to you?”
I felt uncomfortable. “I wouldn't really describe myself as a true believer. Not like you or Galahad. But I do believe the goddesses deserve the utmost respect,” I added quickly.
Tyre nodded, then glanced around us again. “Someone is approaching,” he said softly. “We'll end things here. Remember what I've said: you report to me with anything you believe would be useful to the cause.”
I nodded, though I honestly was surprised to hear Tyre demand I report to him. My uncle had made it sound as if the Round Table no longer had a clear leader. But I supposed it made sense for Tyre to step up, especially if he was traveling between the temple, the rebels’ location, and the castle so regularly.
That reminded me that I had not actually asked where Galahad and Guinevere were. Or if Tyre knew anything about Sir Ector.
But it was too late.
A golden-haired man in gleaming armor was striding purposefully towards us. His face broke into a broad smile as he approached, revealing shining, white teeth.
“How good to see you, Lord General,” Tyre said, dipping into a low bow.
I was not about to bow to Fenyx. Though I could understand the reasons for Tyre’s false humility towards the despicable man.
“And you, High Priest,” Fenyx said smoothly without breaking his gaze. “I know the king appreciates your presence in the Great Hall. Especially on such a fortuitous day as he welcomes back his dear sister.”
Fenyx made a low bow to me. “Lady Morgan, how good it is to see you. I wonder if I could interest you in a walk with me in the gardens. They are lovely at this hour.”
This was the start of it then. My charade.
I took a deep breath, then smiled prettily. “What a kind thought.”
The Lord General held out his arm, and I took it, keeping my touch as light as I could.
Tyre was already moving off to speak to a group of nobles.
Fenyx led us from the Great Hall and out into the formal gardens. My small tower window overlooked these spaces from above. My mother had loved to walk in the gardens before she died and had passed her love for them on to me, which I had then passed to Kaye.
I tried to remember the last time I had been in the gardens with Kaye.
For as long as I could remember, the formal gardens had been the same. Whoever had designed them was long dead and gone. Some previous king or queen, I supposed. Their design may have been old-fashioned but remained beautiful. Neatly trimmed hedges surrounded lavish flowerbeds stretched out in spiraling geographic patterns, each one aligned to a specific color and flower. Some burst with vivid hues of crimson roses, others royal purple irises, and others golden marigolds. Statues of ancient heroes and mythical creatures—carved from marble and now dripping with moss—stood sentinel along the meandering pathways.
The gentle rustle of new leaves in the cool, spring breeze provided a calming backdrop to the singing of birds as they flit from tree to tree. In the center of the garden, a large fountain gurgled a watery melody which mingled with the omnipresent hum of bees and butterflies, busy at work among the blossoms on this sunny, spring day.
I glanced over at my companion. With his tousled, blond locks and chiseled features, his polished silver armor and ocean-blue eyes, he was a dashing man who seemed every inch the embodiment of a gallant, chivalrous knight.
Indeed, as we passed a group of young, giggling noble girls, my heart sank. They looked at Fenyx with adoration in their eyes, then cast jealous glances at me.
All while Fenyx smiled charmingly. He seemed more than capable of winning loyalty—not just the hearts of naive, young maidens but even of the king, my brother.
“Have you recovered from your ordeal at the hands of that white-haired witch, Lady Morgan?” Fenyx asked, breaking the silence.
“Indeed, I have. Thank you, Lord General.” I tried to strike the right tone.
After all, I, too, was just another maiden in the eyes of most of the court. Young, naive, and just the type of neglected girl who would be most susceptible to someone exactly like Fenyx.
Little did Arthur’s Lord General know, I was already married—and that my husband was crossing continents and seas to be by my side and help me put down my kingdom’s tormentors.
