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“Horrible things. Terrible things. He’s a monster.” I repeated the words as if by rote.
“Yes. He is. You say the words, and yet I wonder if you really accept that they’re true.”
I didn’t reply.
“He’s your brother,” Draven said, his deep voice gentle. “I know what that means. Believe me, Morgan, I know that better than anyone. But there is nothing you or anyone else can do for him now. He is too far gone.”
“I could kill Fenyx in a heartbeat. Melt him into the ground,” I said slowly. “I wouldn’t hesitate if I had the chance.”
“I know.”
“But I can’t imagine doing the same to Arthur.” I tilted my head up, feeling unwanted wetness in the corners of my eyes. “I know he’s a monster. I know he doesn’t love me, doesn’t care about me, is probably making plans to manipulate me at this very moment. But he’s my brother. Mylittlebrother, Draven. Just like Kaye.”
“I know,” he said even more gently. “You don’t have to kill him, Morgan. Simply try to accept that he doesn’t deserve to live.”
That was what it came down to.
I took a deep breath. “I’ve never told you this before but...” Was I really going to say the words?
Draven was quiet. He folded his arms around me, holding me closer and waiting patiently.
When I didn’t go on, he spoke. “You can tell me anything, Morgan. You know that. But you can also tell me nothing at all. You don’t owe me all your secrets. I only want the ones you choose to give.”
I nodded. And just like that, I felt release, as if those words were precisely the permission I needed.
“I killed our father. I killed Uther Pendragon.” I had never told anyone. Enid. I thought she might have understood. But she had died by then, died in childbirth with Kaye.
“No one knows this?” Draven’s voice was very soft. There was no judgment in it.
I shook my head. “My uncle... Caspar. He may suspect. He was the first to find us.”
“Us?”
“Arthur and I.”
It hurt. Even now. It hurt so much to remember. I had wanted nothing but my father’s love. Arthur, too. How different things might have been if he had received it. How desperate we both were.
“He found you and Arthur? So Arthur knows?”
“Arthur...” I felt myself shaking. Draven ran his hands over my back.
“Steady now, love. I’m here. You don’t need to go on if you don’t wish to.”
I tilted my head up again, but it was no use. I felt the wetness flowing down my cheeks.
“Arthur knows. He’s only mentioned it to me once. He threatened to tell Merlin.” I swiped at my cheeks. “He won't have the chance now.”
“How did it happen? Do you want to tell me?”
“That’s just it.” I gave a shaky laugh. “I killed him for Arthur.”
Draven went very still.
“Our father beat us, Draven,” I said dully. “But he always hurt Arthur more than me. That day, he went after him like he had never done before. Perhaps Arthur had made a mistake in his lesson with our tutor or not performed up to our father’s expectations in his swordplay. I honestly can’t remember now. But something set him off. He started hitting Arthur.” I winced, remembering how much blood there had been. “I thought he would kill him. I threw myself at him. First I begged. Then I hit and kicked.”
I could feel Draven trying not to breathe, trying not to ask what had happened next. I sensed his suppressed anger.
“He threw me to the ground like I was nothing. Which, I suppose to him, was true. I was just a child. He saw me as no threat.”
