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Arthur stared at me. “No. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t...”
“Tell me,” I said, my voice cold. “What did you do, Arthur?”
He looked around the room as if searching for a way out. “There was a man. A powerful man. He came to me after Father died. He offered me... so many things.”
“In exchange for what?” I demanded.
“Nothing. Everything. My loyalty. And to promise to help him, when the need arose. He wished to... find certain things. Things he had lost.”
“He never asked about your sister?” Guinevere’s voice was quiet but persistent.
“No. Why should he? I met him when I was quite alone. A mirror. There was a mirror in Father’s treasure room. I was in there, looking at all of the spectacular things. I touched it. And the man... appeared. At first, I thought I was imagining things. Having some sort of a vision. But after that, we spoke through the mirror many times. He became... a curse upon me.” Arthur’s breathing had become ragged.
My heart sank as I realized who the man must have been. The man who had led Arthur down this path, very slowly at first, then more swiftly, until he had reached this desperate end of ruin and desolation, with the powers of the sword and grail dangling just out of his reach.
“He helped you follow the deepest desires of your heart,” Guinevere said.
“Yes. No! That can’t be. This wasn’t me. Isn’t me. I would never.”
“But you did.” My voice was cold. “He didn’t force you, Arthur. Did he?”
“No,” my brother faltered. I could see the sweat on his brow. “Not force. But he made it so... so that I wouldn’t see things the same way. I didn’t want to. After Father, I didn’t want to feel as much anymore. I didn’t wish to care. Do you understand? He softened it. So that I wouldn’t have to. It was... a kindness.”
“A kindness? Is that what you call it?” I looked at him, horrified. “Whatever he did, whatever you let him do, allowed you to become... something terrible, Arthur.”
“My child.” His gaze was on Medra now. “I would have killed her.”
“All because of a prophecy,” I said bitterly. “Your stupid fears and suspicions. She’s a baby. She can’t hurt you, Arthur.”
Arthur said nothing. Just kept looking at little Medra. The baby had quieted now. Her little fist was in her mouth as she looked up at Draven and cooed.
She must be hungry, I realized. She would need milk.
And a mother.
There was a disturbance outside in the hall, and a messenger ran in, her face red and breathless.
“The siege is broken,” she panted, looking at Guinevere.
I didn’t understand. “We’ve won? The attackers have left?”
“No.” The messenger shook her head. “We’ve lost. They’re inside the city. Armies from Tintagel and Lyonesse. They’re encircling the island as we speak.”
“I understand. Thank you,” Guinevere said. Her serenity seemed unshaken. “It won’t be long now.”
The bird on her shoulder swiveled her head around to look at me from behind huge eyes, then rotated it again to look at Arthur.
My brother was weeping, I realized. Water glistened on his face.
I could not remember the last time I had seen him cry. If they were tears of remorse, however, they were far too late. My heart had hardened towards him.
“You understand now?” Guinevere spoke with shocking gentleness to the man who had wronged her so terribly. “You understand your crimes?”
Arthur gave a jerky bob of his head. “I nearly killed Kaye. I nearly killed my daughter. The grail, the sword. He gave them to me to use. He would have helped me overthrow my enemies.”
“They are not your enemies, Arthur. They never were,” I said.
If the man who had seduced my brother into wickedness had so generously lent his objects of power, then there must be a reason, a much darker one than we knew. I knew enough about Gorlois le Fay to understand that much.
