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Draven joined me a few moments later.

He crawled in, then sat, looking at me in silence.

“I lost him, too, Morgan,” he said finally.

I closed my eyes, hands tightening on the trousers I had been folding. “I know. That’s why you should hate me the most.”

I lay down on the bedroll we shared and turned away from him.

The tent was very quiet that night.

CHAPTER 26 - MORGAN

Twilight was descending upon the rocky landscape as we reached the remains of a small village. The abandoned community lay in the shadow of the first true mountain we had encountered on our journey. Skeletal, burnt-out remnants of little huts and barns whispered of a forgotten past. One where simple people had lived simple lives.

I could sense the wistfulness and sadness among the caravan of refugees as they looked at the village, perhaps reminded of all they, too, had lost and left behind.

Madoc, their leader, had a loud, carrying voice. Turning his horse to face the train of wagons and people on foot, he announced we would spend the night here.

I looked towards the north where jagged peaks loomed in the distance, shadowed against the darkening sky. Bathed in deep hues of purple and pink, they created a breathtaking backdrop as we began to set up camp. Tomorrow, we would turn off the western road and go towards those forbidding mountains, searching for my father’s concealed court.

At the foot of the mountain that towered over the village, something caught my eye. Hewn into the side of the cliffside were the crumbling remains of an ancient stone building. The entrance, marked by an eroded archway, was surrounded by rocks and debris.

“A temple.”

It was Madoc. The gray-haired patriarch of the displaced. He was much shorter and stockier, but I was still reminded of Sir Ector each time I saw him.

“I remind you of someone,” he said, seeing my expression.

I nodded. “A very dear friend back in Pendrath.”

“Ah. I’m glad it is a friend and not an enemy,” he said, smiling.

“You’ll meet him in Camelot,” I said a little stiffly, not wishing to speak of enemies. “Sir Ector Prennell.”

Madoc raised his eyebrows. “A ‘sir’ is he?”

“He’ll welcome you with open arms. No matter your rank,” I said. “Especially with the letter you bring.”

“We’ll bring him news of your friend, too,” Madoc said. “I hope we can soften the blow a little.”

I winced, thinking of how Crescent would react, hearing the news of Gawain’s death from strangers. It was cowardly, but part of me had to admit I was glad I wouldn’t be there when it was delivered.

Would I ever return home to tell Crescent face to face exactly what had happened to his husband? To explain in detail just how Gawain had died? Would he even want to know?

“It’s a temple,” Madoc said again. He pointed to the ruins on the side of the mountain. “Abandoned long ago from the look of it. Probably not safe to venture into either. I’ll have to let the people know not to let the children wander off too far.”

“A temple to whom?” I asked, my skin tingling. “To the Three?”

“The Three?” Madoc shook his head. “No, the closer you get to Dornum, the less you’ll see of the Three. Most people in Rheged are ambivalent towards the gods these days. But when they used to worship, the god we traditionally turned to was a fierce one.”

I already knew what he was going to say. Still, I cringed as the words left his mouth.

“That temple was devoted to Perun. You can tell by the symbols on the stone pedestal.” He pointed again, and this time, I saw them. Crude signs for thunder and lightning carved into the stone.

The lie I had told my sister coalesced in my mind. She was the daughter of a god, Tempest had claimed.

So then, so was I.