THE WITCHES OF AVALON: a thrilling Arthurian fantasy (THE MORGAN TRILOGY Book 1)
Page 19
“Me too, Ector.”
Arthur stepped forward and kissed me goodbye on both cheeks, too, but as he did, he whispered in my ear, “Make an effort with him, Morgan. I need you to help me in this.”
I gave him a cold look as we parted. As I climbed onto my horse, I looked around for Kay again, but the only other familiar face I saw was Merlin, still in his young form, loitering at the edge of the courtyard. Kay is not coming to say goodbye.
Uriens gave the shout to leave, gave a deferential nod to Arthur, and our small party departed. I wondered as we left if any of my letters had reached Morgawse. I hoped that they had. I would write to her again from Gore, so that she would know where I was. I would have liked to have seen her. I hoped that this war would not part us forever. I hoped that Aggravain was serious about protecting his mother. I hoped that he was old enough, and strong enough, to resist his father, and keep the promise that he had made to me.
As we rode away, Uriens moved beside me on his horse. I glanced sideways at him. He seemed as though he wanted to talk to me, but I was not going to make it easy for him. Not after what he had done to me this morning. But I did not need to speak first. He began, his voice tense with thwarted rage.
“That brother of yours thinks he’s so clever. So powerful. He’s just a boy. Without me, Lot would crush him in his bare hands. He thinks he’s a great king, he’s just a boy.”
I let a moment of silence pass between us, staring ahead of me as we rode.
“A boy of whom you are afraid,” I replied, pointedly. I didn’t look at him, but I was sure he was bristling with anger. Perhaps there would be parts of this marriage I would enjoy. Uriens was easy to bait, and flashed with anger fast.
“I am not afraid of Arthur,” he growled tersely.
“King Arthur,” I corrected, unable to keep a wicked smile of enjoyment from my lips. I felt him turn to look at me, burning with frustration, but I gazed off into the distance, enjoying myself at last.
The ride to Gore was not far, and we reached Uriens’ castle as night was falling. I was pleased to not have to spend a night on the road with Uriens. Perhaps he would be tired from the ride, and want to go right to sleep. I hoped so. Uriens’ castle was built like Lothian castle, tall and narrow with sharp spires, densely packed. It looked unwelcoming. Like Lothian castle, it did not have a great courtyard like Camelot with a welcoming wooden gate, but we entered through a barbican gate with two unfriendly rust-toothed portcullises. Inside, a small band of knights waited for their king and their new queen. At their head stood a knight with a torch to welcome us. In the light of the torch he held, I could see he was youngish, roughly of an age with me, not more than five years older, I thought, and handsome. Fair hair swept back from his face, dark gold stubble across his chin, and a thoughtful, angular face, just a little rugged. But I had had enough of handsome men for the moment. The young Merlin, threatening me, Lancelot kissing me then turning me away, and worst of all Kay, telling me he loved me then abandoning me at the final moment of my need.
He appeared to be Uriens’ Steward, and he greeted him first, taking the reins of his horse so that he could jump down. Making a show of courtesy in front of his men, Uriens walked around to me and offered me his hand to help me down. I took it and slipped from my horse. I landed on my feet right before his Steward, who greeted me with a confident, charming smile. He gave a small bow.
“My Lady Queen Morgan. Welcome to Rheged castle.” He kissed my hand and I gave a nod of my head in response, resistant. I was not going to give anything of myself away again. I had suffered from it too much.
Servants came out to take our belongings into the castle, and Uriens excused us, saying he was tired from the ride. He led me in silence through the courtyard to the castle’s central tower. When we walked through the door, a jolt of recognition went through me at the sight of the staircase. I had seen myself at the top of it, in my dress of black gems, wearing the crown of Gore. This was my future, then. I wondered how long it would be before I saw the red-haired woman, before she and I stood on the shores of Avalon, Excalibur drawn between us. I could not remember who had been holding the sword when I had seen it in my dream of the future. It had to be me. I would have my sword back.
Uriens led me to a bedroom where someone had lit a few candles in preparation for our arrival. I wondered if I would have a chamber of my own here. I hoped that I would. It would be well enough to have somewhere of my own, far from Uriens. But this seemed to be his chamber, for once I followed him in and he shut the door, he began to undress, unbuckling and pulling off his armour, and setting it down. He pulled off his shirt, too, and went to a basin set on the table, and splashed his face with the water, then rubbed it dry with the cloth beside the basin. I stood back, watching, dreading. Perhaps he would just go to sleep. He did not. He strode over to me, and grasped me by the shoulders, pulling me against him in a rough kiss.
I would have been glad of it if, though I hated him, I could have at least enjoyed myself in this. I knew I was capable of it, but he was too rough, his lips brusque and coarse against mine, his grip violent rather than passionate in its roughness, and I felt my body stiffen instinctively against him. He turned me around roughly and unlaced the overdress, and pulled it over my head. I thought about refusing, about protesting. He had been rude to me. He had done dishonour to me, so I did not know why he thought I would go willingly with him now.
I stepped away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. A cruel smile played around his lips. Part of me wondered if he was hoping that I would refuse him. If he had been testing my wifely obedience, how far I was guilty. How far I was sorry. He was spoiling for a fight after losing his argument with Arthur. He wanted to feel he could get someone to obey him. It would not be me.
“Uriens, you have apologised for your treatment of me in public, but not yet to me in private. I will not go to bed with you as your wife until you apologise.”
He gave a low, mean laugh. “I don’t have to apologise to you. I have to pretend I believe Arthur, but,” he shook his head, “between us, I know you’re nothing more than a whore.”
I slapped him, hard across his face, feeling the anger fire through me, heat my blood. I wished, then, that I knew more, darker magic. Little good it would do me now to change my shape. I wished I could have wrapped my hand around his eyes and made him watch something he did not want to see.
It took him a moment to register that I had struck him, then his face darkened and twisted with anger. He went red, then white, and I saw the vein bulge in his forehead. I felt a flutter of fear in my stomach. I could see the hunger in his eyes, the desire for revenge, to assert his power. He had been shamed by me, and by one he considered to be a boy. Now he was alone with me, he was going to prove the one way he was stronger.
I jumped back as he lunged forward for me, but there was nowhere for me to go. He caught me by the wrist, and dragged me over to the bed. I pushed at him with my free hand, but I didn’t have the strength in my body to get him off me. Vivid and awful, the memory of Lot holding me face-down on his table flashed back through me and I struggled hard against Uriens, but he did not loosen his grip on me. He pushed me down on the bed and climbed on top of me, pinning me down with an arm across my chest. I screamed out, screamed for him to stop, but he clamped a hand over my mouth, leaning close to hiss in my ear.
“I am your lord husband, Morgan, and you will be obedient to me.”
I kicked at him, but I could not push him off, and I screwed my eyes tight shut, against the tears, against the room around me, this awful place I had been brought to. I wished that I could move outside my body, leave it behind me. When he thrust inside me, grunting over me, and puffing out his breaths, I lay limp and hopeless, closing my eyes, trying to imagine I was at Avalon, swimming in the lake, or lying with Kay under the trees. But when I thought of Kay I felt angry and hopeless again. There was blood on the sheets this time, but I did not think he would be satisfied now. I tried to drift as fa
r from my body as I could, and all the while I thought, I will kill Uriens. I will kill him.
And after a while it became, and I will kill Arthur.
Read on now:
Book II of the Morgan Trilogy
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