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And I had vowed to care for her daughter.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in this or any world.”

They had been Orcades’s last words as she looked upon Medra. Just after the cryptic riddle she had cited.

“Who meets their death devoid of love shall surely face their end. But one who gives their soul away, eternity extends.”

“She’s grown overnight,” Draven remarked, bouncing the baby who seemed in no hurry to be delivered to her wet nurse for her next round of feeding.

“Isn’t that the sort of thing everyone always says about babies?” I smirked but eyed my niece nonetheless.

In fact, Draven might have been right. Medra did look bigger. Her legs seemed longer than they had the night before and her chubby little arms were pushing at the seams of the white nightdress she wore.

“You may be right,” I conceded. “Is this a fae trait? Rapid growth in infants?”

“Not usually.” He rubbed his nose against the baby’s. “We’re longer-lived, so we often tend to mature more slowly than mortals. But then, you’re special, aren’t you, Medra? Aren’t you, darling?”

He used a special tone of voice which might have made another person slightly nauseous. But hearing that dark, deep voice take on such a sweet tone just for my niece sent waves of warmth spreading through my body.

This man, this colossal figure with the presence of a mountain whose voice could take on the intensity of crushed rocks and whose gaze could instantly cause those around him to tremble with instinctive, primal fear... Well, it was an incredible thing watching him transform the moment he cradled our niece in his massive arms.

The colossus became a kitten.

I watched as the gray shadows played upon Draven’s features, emphasizing the rugged contours of his face. His beautiful green eyes melted as he looked down at the baby with an expression of pure affection.

Then he looked at me, and his expression shifted.

“What’s wrong?” His voice had taken on a tinge of concern.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” He reached forward and touched my skin, just below my breastbone. “You’re clammy. You’ve had night chills. What was it? A dream?”

I nodded slowly.

“Tell me,” he said softly. “You know you can tell me anything.”

I did know that.

I took a breath. “A dream, yes. A very disturbing one.”

I told him briefly, careful to leave out the dream’s conclusion. Where I had decided to simply... give myself up to Kaye. To surrender.

What did it mean? Was I losing myself to despair? I hadn’t thought so before now, but the dream... it had shaken me.

“He’s been on your mind a great deal. It’s natural. I’ve been wrapped up in this little one”—he bounced Medra gently—“but you’re filled with concern for Kaye.”

“And there’s nothing we can do,” I said hollowly. I sat by his bed for hours each day, speaking to him, reading to him. But it was pointless. No matter what I did, he didn’t even seem to know I was there. “That’s what Guinevere said.”

The young high priestess had seemed to become an expert on such things almost overnight. Even such strange supernatural events like Kaye’s cursed sleep.

Kaye slept and he did not wake. He did not eat or drink. He seemed frozen in time. Neither dead nor alive.

Too similar to the horrible undead children from Meridium than I cared to admit. At least, in my waking hours. But in my dreaming mind, a part of me must have feared that was exactly what Kaye would eventually become.

“He will wake, Morgan,” Draven said. “You know that. Once we’ve destroyed the grail...”

“He’s bound to the chalice. That’s what Guinevere said. She said it holds him. But what does that mean?” I asked sharply. “Will destroying it help him? Set him free? Or will it destroy them both?”