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I was shocked. I pulled her to me, heedless of my wounds. “I know. Morgan, believe me, I know.”

“She was so small,” my mate sobbed. “How can she not be so small still? How can she have saved us? She should be home. I thought she’d be there. I thought I’d have more time. I thought...”

“I know, silver one,” I murmured against her hair. “I know. I know.”

It was all I could say as we stood there beneath the trees.

Around us, the air was heavy with the scents of earth and pine. The forest rang with the chorus of birdsong and rustling leaves. Shafts of golden sunlight trickled down from above, dappling the forest floor with patches of golden light.

The world was alive, and we were still in it.

We stood like that, together in silence, for a long time, listening to the sounds of the world Medra had saved.

CHAPTER 41 - MORGAN

It was coronation day.

There was a saying from Tintagel that I had read in a history book once: “A valiant sword does not craft a wise scepter.”

Courage in battle or in adversity did not necessarily translate to the wisdom to rule.

We returned home to Camelot in mourning—for Medra, for Nightclaw, for Gawain, for Rychel. And then, once we had exchanged news of our losses, for Odessa.

But amidst the weeks of bleak mourning, there was always a seed of joy to carry me through. Because my brother Kaye had woken up.

To learn Kaye had met Medra and spoken with her in her last moments in Camelot... Well, it was a bittersweet blessing for Draven and me.

But with Kaye’s awakening, a new challenge arose. For, as it turned out, Kaye did not wish to be the new king of Pendrath.

Oh, my brother was not some irresponsible youth. It was not simply the call of freedom that made him refuse kingship. He was convinced—wrongly, I still felt—that I deserved to sit on that throne first.

Nothing I said or did could convince him otherwise. And in the end? What won me over was a simple plea.

A plea to let him have a childhood.

The childhood I had not had.

He did not say so in as many words, but the implication was there when I gazed into my little brother’s eyes and saw the weariness that should not have been in the eyes of a boy so young.

After that, I could not refuse him.

Instead, I looked. I looked forward into the future and saw Kaye having years to grow and explore without the threat of Arthur or some terrible war hanging over him. I imagined him surrounded by friends and family who truly loved him and would teach and protect him. I saw him becoming king not as a child, as Arthur had been, but as a man—ready and mature, confident in his abilities, and surrounded by a court of friends and advisors who would be there to support him every step of the way.

There was another tempting incentive to do as my brother had asked.

Given a few years, I knew I could rout out any lingering vestiges of corruption from Arthur’s court. Get rid of all of the Lord Agravaines and Fenyxs. Make the Rose Court into something truly worthy for Kaye and a new generation to take over.

And so I agreed—but with conditions.

My term would be limited. A maximum of fifteen years. If Kaye changed his mind, I would agree to step down before that.

Should I have any children while I was queen, they would not supplant Kaye in the line of succession.

I was tempted to ask for wording to be written in, declaring any future children of mine would be removed from the line of succession altogether. But then, I strongly doubted Draven and I would ever have any of our own. Not only were our hearts still too raw for that, but with the lingering curse upon the Siabra, Draven’s Nimue had already been an exception.

Meanwhile, the group of supporters who had called upon me to reign Pendrath had grown and grown until they’d become an influential flood. Upon my return to Camelot, I’d had to contend with the existence of a powerful faction capable of swaying not only Pendrath but Tintagel, Lyonesse, and Rheged.

Perhaps someone else might have been flattered. I was not. Instead, I saw only another source of trouble for Kaye.