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He looked chagrined. “I did not. I knew the grail would be used by the Siabra at times...” I thought of Sephone raising the grail as she opened the Blood Rise competition. “But I never dreamed it would be snatched from Myntra.”
I thought that was saying quite a lot—considering just how far-reaching my uncle’s dreams must be to have recruited Draven and somehow gotten the grail into his hands in the first place.
“You hoped I would find Excalibur with Draven and go back with him to Myntra, didn’t you?” I said carefully. “Then two of the three objects would be far from Arthur.”
“It was a hope,” Caspar acknowledged. “And as it turned out, not as far-fetched as I might have feared. For you did go back with him, didn’t you?”
I didn’t bother to deny that I’d been in Myntra. But neither did I offer more information.
“Why would anyone want this much power? And what kind of power is it exactly? The power of souls?”
“Innocent souls,” he corrected. “Pure souls.”
I shuddered. “Yes, innocent children’s souls. I don’t need reminding.”
“As for what the power does...” He shrugged. “I don’t particularly want to find out. But I suspect that’s an indulgence I won’t be permitted. Clearly he has some purpose in mind, or why strive to accumulate such power?”
I swallowed. “I suppose this tells me the sort of man my... father is.”
Caspar’s eyes turned cold. “He’s not a man, Morgan. He’s hardly even fae. He’s abeing. He lives. That’s the most that can be said about him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean when one has been alive as long as Gorlois Le Fay, one wants and one takes. Whatever one pleases. Have you never wondered about the world before this one, Morgan? The world before the Siabra and Valtain split and the Siabra retreated to their far-off continent?”
I shook my head. “Most of our books don’t go back that far. Or if they do, it’s very vague.” I hesitated. “And in Myntra... Well, there wasn’t time for many history lessons.” Though I had visited the library on one memorable occasion.
“It’s incredible, really, how much can be forgotten in a few generations.” My uncle shook his head. “The world was not one you would wish to see, Morgan.”
“My father... he’s that bad then?”
“He makes Uther Pendragon look like a soft kitten and your brother Arthur, a puppy,” he said bluntly. He began to move towards the door. “Now, we will speak again. But in the meantime, know this. I work from within the castle. I work for you and for Kaye and for all of Pendrath. You will choose to feel for me whatever you must. I understand you perceive my previous actions as a betrayal—and one that must cut deep.”
I took a breath. “Not as deep as Arthur’s.”
“You must have at least been expecting that one,” he said shrewdly. “Whereas my own... Well, in time I hope you’ll believe that it wasn’t one. Not truly. I wish only the best for you, Morgan.” He cleared his throat. “I cared for your mother. Very much. She was a dear friend. A trusted one.”
And then he was gone.
