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I tried to understand. What would it have been like to grow up in Uther Pendragon’s shadow? To have had such a man for a brother? My uncle could not have had a happy family life either.
“But now...” he continued. “Well, I did not wish to speak of it openly at the meeting, but I have done what I can to protect you. If anyone tries to divulge your whereabouts to Arthur, they will find themselves quite inexplicably unable to utter or inscribe the words. Instead, they will find themselves filled with a strange but undeniable compulsion to throw themselves into the Greenbriar River.” He smiled softly. “My small contribution, niece. Too little, too late though it may be.”
I nodded. He wasn’t actively trying to harm me, and he had apologized for the past. It was a start.
“Your mother and mine would have had a great deal in common, I believe,” he said with a wistful expression. “If they could have spoken.”
“What do you mean?”
“Both fled the Valtain court. I have never figured out just who or what my mother was in relation to those in power, but she must have surely been close to the throne, or why run away as she did?”
“So the Valtain were—are—as brutal as the Siabra?”
My uncle looked slightly surprised. “Oh, much more, my dear.”
“The last Siabra emperor...”
My uncle waved a hand. “Brutal, yes. But a pawn. He hardly weakened the Valtain as much as the Siabra may like to think.”
“Does it matter?” I said thoughtlessly. “What matters is here, now. What matters is what Arthur is doing.”
Impatience flashed in my uncle’s eyes. “But it’s all connected, child. Surely you can see that now. There is more at play than mortal and fae, Siabra and Valtain. More at stake than any mortal war. When the very instruments of the gods themselves begin to play a part in the workings of mortal man...”
“You mean the sword?” I said. “But Arthur has that.”
“And what of the grail?” My uncle’s gaze fell sharp as a whip upon me. “You have seen it, have you not?”
I nodded slowly. “But it’s gone now.”
“Gone? Gone where?Hewas supposed to take it, safeguard it.”
“Draven brought it back.” I stared at my uncle, aware that there was more at play here than I could guess at. “He brought it back to the Siabra court. But his sister stole it. She took it to the Valtain.” I paused. “Or they took her. It wasn’t... clear.”
That was probably more charitable than Rychel deserved.
“Back to the Valtain?” For a moment, my uncle looked almost frightened.
“Does it matter?” I said. “What do any of these things matter when people are dying? When Kaye is not safe?”
My uncle’s expression turned thoughtful. “Beware the dread curse of Three,” he recited.
“The sword, the spear, the grail’s mystery.
Blood calls to blood, the dark shall rise,
Forged by the gods under sacred skies.”
“I’ve heard that before,” I said. “It was written on the stone. The stone that held Excalibur.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s an old prophecy.”
“What does it mean?” I demanded. “Rhyming words. But what does it tell us exactly?”
“At the very least, it tells us that objects better left lost are in motion once more. Playing into powerful hands. Converging upon one figure.”
“Upon whom? Arthur? He doesn’t have the grail. Only the sword.”
“Not Arthur, girl,” my uncle said. “Arthur is a fool and always has been. Toying with matters he hardly understands.”
