Page 56

“Did you?” Guinevere’s expression was as calm as ever, but there was an assessing look in her eyes. “I should think it would be comforting.”

“What? Being called a goddess?” I tried to laugh. “I assure you, it wasn’t.” Empress was overwhelming enough, but I felt certain she knew that already.

“No, not that. The other name Excalibur bears.”

“Iron of the goddess? Why?”

“Well, it tells you the blade was never meant to belong to a man. Certainly not to your father, no matter how powerful he believes himself to be.”

“Just how powerful do you think he is, Guinevere?” I said, sharper than I had intended. “As powerful as a fae high king? As powerful as, what? A god?”

“Why don’t you tell me, Morgan?” she said softly. “He brought the storm, did he not? Do you know any fae who could do such a thing?”

I had seen fae do a great many things. Some strange, some breathtaking, some simply terrifying.

I had seen a winged fae who could not fly, and I had seen a small mortal boy with fae abilities he should never have had holding a shield over a city.

“I serve the goddesses wherever they take me,” Guinevere said quietly. She was looking at the sword. “And something tells me the sword is trying to get back home.”

“It wants to be destroyed?” I was less surprised by the fact that Guinevere believed a metal object could have wants of its own.

“Perhaps.”

“Home. Wherever the hell that is,” I said sourly. I somehow doubted anywhere my father resided could possibly be “homelike.”

“Perhaps the goddesses are working through you more than you understand, Morgan,” Guinevere said. “Have you ever thought of that? You wield their blade after all.”

“I’m not a true believer. I’m not sure why they would.”

“You don’t have to believe. Not if they do.”

I wasn’t sure about her reasoning. But I wasn’t about to argue either.

“You’re saying they’re granting me their powers? To balance things out between my father and me?”

“They might be,” she answered judiciously. “That’s one possibility.”

I resisted the urge to throw up my hands in irritation. “I suppose you’ll be returning to the temple soon. I understand you’ve left Kasie temporarily in charge.”

“Who better to heal a kingdom than a healer?”

I wrinkled my brow. “Yes, but you must miss the temple.” I knew most acolytes and priestesses could only dream of having received the honor Guinevere had been granted after only a few short months of living under the temple’s roof.

She had not even been an acolyte. Merlin had simply selected her without any consultation or explanation.

I had no doubt Merlin had chosen wisely, but still, Guinevere sometimes seemed to lack a proper appreciation for the very great honor she had received. One that many women would kill for.

Well, if they weren’t pacifist priestesses.

“Is there anything else you wish to speak with me about, Morgan?” Guinevere asked.

I got the sense that she was prodding, searching for an answer she already had. Just waiting for me to say it aloud.

I thought of my dreams. The burning cottage. I had still not told Draven about it. Last night, I had thought it best if he simply slept.

I could tell Guinevere. She was a reassuring presence at the very least. I might not understand her fully. But that didn’t mean I didn’t trust her.

I looked past her at where Lancelet leaned against a pillar a ways down the hall, astutely studying her nails.