I move toward my boots lined up against the wall. “I should see him right away!”
“Why don’t you get ready first? He’s the King, in case you’ve forgotten. You can’t just show up in your pajamas.”
“Fair enough.”
Lancelot nods. “I’ll be waiting in the hall.”
He casts a glance at me before closing the door. It’s only then that I realize I have been wearing only a long T-shirt that hits above the knees.
Once dressed in my uniform, I meet Lancelot outside and we walk toward King’s Tower where the private infirmary for Arthur is.
As I approach the infirmary, a knight guarding the entry motions for us to stay back. I can hear voices from within. The door is cracked open only revealing the linoleum floor.
“Your Highness, you must be patient.” Guinevere’s voice.
“You’ve had your hand on my head for hours,” Arthur says. “It doesn’t seem to be healing me. I want to sleep for a while, undisturbed.”
“It’s important that we eliminate any repercussions from your brain injury.”
“I’ve had enough.”
“Arthur,” another voice says. Merlin’s. “Whether you like it or not, you need extensive treatment. If not for you own sake, for the country’s.”
“I don’t want to be King.”
An uncomfortable silence follows.
“You’ve no choice,” Merlin finally says with a firm tone.
“I do have a choice,” Arthur says loudly. “I refuse to be King.”
Something shatters against the wall. Through the crack in the door, I see ice scatter across the floor. Merlin’s magic. My eyes widen. Merlin rarely loses his temper.
“Damn you!” Merlin shouts.
Guinevere murmurs something worriedly.
Merlin approaches the doorway as he exits. He glances at me only briefly.
“No visitors,” he simply says.
Lancelot raises a hand. “I was told by King Arthur to…”
“King Arthur is not in any state to be making any rational decisions,” Merlin cuts in. “I am currently in charge. Ms. Le Fay has made Arthur volatile, and her presence only makes him worse. Go back.”
I narrow my eyes at Merlin. He knows I’m Arthur’s half sister. How can he be this heartless?
Lancelot pulls at my arm. “Come on. You heard him. We’re going back to training.”
I bite my lower lip, flames of anger scorching my insides. As we walk away from Merlin, I can’t help but turn my head toward him.
“You’re too hard on him, Merlin!” I shout. “You’re only pushing him away.”
Lancelot’s grip on me tightens. “Cool it, Le Fay.”
I press my mouth into a hard line.
Merlin shoots me a glare of warning before marching down the opposite direction.
I work extra hard lifting weights, wanting to burn away the anger inside me that sits like red coals in the pit of my stomach. The knights pay special attention to me today. I can see their questions: Why does Morgan le Fay get to be late and skip certain days of training? Why does she disappear with Lancelot all the time?
As soon as training is finished, I make my way up to the roof of Knight’s Tower, wanting to be away from everyone’s judging eyes.
From across the building, I see King’s Tower with the vacant helipads on top of it. I remember sitting atop Study Tower with Merlin during Arthur’s Round, eating lunch together. He was so warm then. The blue sky reflected in his eyes, and he smiled with ease. He was always leaning in to hear my words.
Now he turns his back on me and probably will never smile at me again. I’m not even sure if the blue sky will ever catch in his eyes the way it used to.
As I stare at the building, I glimpse movement atop King’s Tower, and I forget about Merlin. A human silhouette moves across the helipad. The person has white bandages around his head. Arthur. How did he get out of the infirmary? Is he alone?
Arthur climbs onto the ledge of the building and then slowly stands up, outstretching his arms like wings. My heart hammers, afraid that he’ll jump. I move my hands to my mouth, ready to scream out his name.
Another figure appears from the stairwell and walks toward him. I stop myself from shouting and squint my eyes to see better. He’s wearing all black. Mordred.
Arthur turns to him. Sweat trickles across my forehead, afraid to see them alone on the rooftop. What if Mordred murders him right there? He could simply push Arthur to his death while he stands precariously close to the edge.
They both talk, Arthur still standing on the rim. Mordred reaches a hand toward Arthur. I open my mouth again, ready to yell.
Arthur takes his hand.
Mordred helps him climb down from the ledge.
He puts an arm around Arthur’s shoulder, pulling him away from the danger zone. His face is leaned toward Arthur, talking. The two walk back toward the elevator like two dear friends.
“What on earth?” I whisper to myself.
Chapter 9
The next day as I jog with the rest of the knights along the trail by the moat, thoughts of Arthur and Mordred plague my mind. Though the morning air is crisp and soothing to my lungs, it does nothing to calm me. When we finish our jog in front of Knight’s Tower, I wipe away the stream of sweat dripping down my face.
Lancelot steps through the front doors of Knight’s Tower, immediately turning his gaze to me. “Le Fay,” he calls out. “Got a minute?”
I tense, wondering what’s happening next.
Other knights are glaring with accusation as I move away from them and follow Lancelot.
Once we’re in the hall, I let out the breath I was holding. “Lancelot, it’s not safe to keep talking to me in private. The other knights are agitated. I’m worried they won’t…”
“What?”
“That they won’t respect you anymore.”
Lancelot shrugs. “I’m doing my job. There’s a visitor here for you.”
I stall, growing rigid. “A visitor? As in… from the outside?”
Lancelot nods.
“Who?” I ask though I already know who. There’s only one person from the outside who’d want to see me.
“Your father,” Lancelot replies.
My whole body rings with panic. “It’s better that he doesn’t see me.”
“Morgan. He’s your father.”
I shake my head. “He’ll be so disappointed. It’s too much for him to bear—and for me to bear.”
“Come on,” Lancelot says sternly. “He’s only allowed to see you for five minutes. I think you can handle it. You can stare at your feet the whole time if you want.”
I want to run away. Instead, I keep walking along with Lancelot. As we meander through the central courtyard, I glance up at King’s Tower, glinting in the light of dawn. My previous anxiety from the day before comes crashing down on me. For a second I almost forgot about what I saw yesterday.
“Lancelot,” I begin. “I’ve got to talk to you about something. I’m worried about Arthur.”
“We all are.”
“I saw him walking on the roof of King’s Tower. Isn’t Arthur supervised?”
Lancelot raises his brows. “He has a walk with Guinevere every evening to regain his balance. Perhaps he wanted to get some fresh air. I’m sure knights were nearby and the security cameras were watching him. What are you worried about exactly?”
“Guinevere is a fantastic healer,” I begin. “But she’s very trusting and gentle. I’m afraid Arthur was obviously sneaking away from her if he got to the roof alone. And also, I believe nobody was watching. If they were, someone would have been very afraid.”
Lancelot continues to study me. We’ve stopped walking.
“He tried to jump,” I clarify.
Lancelot takes the information in for a second before sighing. “Morgan, I’m the head of security. I assure you, our staff protects him.”
&nbs
p; “You mean, Mordred?” I demand. “Who sent him to Arthur? He’s not a knight.”
“Many Camelot members are keeping an eye on him. That includes maids, cooks, and yes, even Cabinet members. Arthur became great friends with Mordred ever since his injury. They spend many afternoons talking.”
I shudder. “What?”
“What’s your obsession with Mordred?” Lancelot asks with amusement. “He’s a little too old for you, yeah?”
“Ugh.” I grimace. “Look, I’ve got my own reasons to suspect he’s not a good person.”
“That’s not surprising. Doesn’t seem anyone is a ‘good person’ according to your standards.”
Lancelot turns to study the Grail Fountain. I can tell by the glaze in his eyes that he dismisses me.
“Mordred wants to harm Arthur,” I finally say.
Lancelot snaps his eyes to me. He then steps forward and grabs my shoulders. “Don’t just spew out crap like that.”
“It’s not crap, it’s the truth.”
“Morgan, if you’re bored with your life, I understand, but…”
“Arthur is in danger!” I snap, louder than I meant to.
“Okay,” he says soothingly. “I hope this is what Laudine has been working on with you. You’ve got to let go of that need to create turmoil and suffering. You have a new chance here.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’ll give you some turmoil and suffering right now if you don’t take me seriously.”
Lancelot sighs. “Damn it, Morgan. You can’t afford being tried for slander right now. I’m under obligation to document comments like this. But I’ll pretend I never heard it.”
“I’ve nothing to lose anyway,” I say. “Document it. Tell the Cabinet that Mordred had suggested to me that he’s a Luminary.”
Lancelot widens his eyes, growing pale. His eyes are sharper now. “Don’t do this, Morgan. Don’t do this crap without proof.”
“He should not go near Arthur,” I declare.
Lancelot’s jaw tightens. He’s furious now. “I’m going to be honest with you. You are walking on real thin ice. We both are. To tell you the truth, I put everything on the line to have you join the knights. I’m going to be kicked out of Camelot if you get into any sort of trouble. I’ve got my neck stuck out for you—got my neck stuck out real far. Now, do you really want to document this theory of yours? Look into my eyes and tell me.”
His steel eyes are sturdy yet tired. My confidence withers as I see the weariness in his face. I want to report Mordred with all my heart. The sight of him with Arthur scared me to the bones. Yet I have no proof, so the Cabinet will only be angry with me and insulted, causing more problems for everyone.
“I don’t,” I finally say.
Lancelot nods, his face relaxing. “Good. Now come on. Let’s see your old man, yeah?”
My mouth goes dry. He leads me through Study Tower and then to a nearby door in the hall where there is a small visiting room with a table and a few chairs. The windows are curtained, barely letting in light.
Father sits across the table. For a second he’s barely recognizable in his slumped-over state. He looks up, and his eyes go wide when he sees me. He knocks over the chair getting up and strides over to me.
“Morgan!” he cries.
My heart becomes heavy. I keep my eyes on the floor, unable to bear the sight. He’s saying so many words—yet no words come to my own mind to speak, even as I turn deeply inward.
“Morgan,” he repeats. “Are you all right?”
I nod, mustering strength not to worry him. Hesitantly I glance up, fearing the connection of our gaze meeting.
Yet he is not looking at me. He is scowling at someone behind me. The dark anger in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. I’ve never seen Father this angry.
“You son of a bitch!” Father suddenly bellows, causing me to jump.
Father goes past me and lunges. I whip around just as Father’s fist meets Lancelot’s jaw. Lancelot falls against the wall.
“Father!” I yell. “Stop!”
Father grabs Lancelot by the scruff. “I’ve heard the rumors! You should be ashamed. A High Knight going after a young, innocent girl! You should be in prison for sexual harassment, you damn predator!”
I grab Father’s shoulder, pulling him back just enough so I can step between them. I look into Father’s coal black eyes again.
“Father,” I repeat. “Stop! I’m a grown woman now. And anyway, the rumors are not true! Lancelot is my boss and nothing more!”
“A grown woman?” Father shouts. “You’re still a girl, Morgan. You don’t know how to make decisions yet.”
My lips tighten before my eyes burn. “I do,” I finally say with regret. “Everything that happened—me running away, kidnapping Arthur, those were my decisions. I made my choices. You can’t change that. Don’t blame anything on anyone else. If you want to punch someone, you can punch me.”
Father sobs. “You’re wrong, Morgan. You’re still young. You don’t know what you’re getting into, and I bet you don’t even know why you did those things. You still need help. I should have never let you join Arthur’s Round. It’s all my damn fault.”
I blink as his words echo in my mind. “It was not your fault,” I say firmly. “Haven’t you heard a word of what I said? You never listen to me, Father. I feel like I have to scream and light a fire to be heard—and I don’t want to be like this. Please understand what I’m trying to explain. Please.”
My plea only makes Father cry harder as his shoulders heave and he covers his face with his huge hands.
Knights come into the room. “Visiting time is over,” one says.
I watch them escort my distraught father out. As the door closes, I tremble as I hold in my own tears, glancing at the curtain hiding the window. Eventually the light stops blurring and I take a breath.
When I look back to the door with dried eyes, Lancelot straightens as if nothing ever happened. He wipes the blood off the corner of his mouth, and then he digs around in his pockets, where his cigarettes usually are. “Training time,” he says. “Let’s go.”
“How can you be so calm?” I demand, irritated. “Aren’t you bothered by his accusations?”
“Of course I am,” Lancelot says as he grabs my elbow to lead me out. Once we are away from the knights, he continues. “I’m not proud of what happened. I understand my wrongdoing. Can’t blame him for being pissed. Anyway, don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh on your old man?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You could have embraced him and comforted him.”
I frown. “How could I? He’s so disappointed and furious.”
“He isn’t any of those things, Morgan—not with you. He loves you.”
“All right,” I say, just so Lancelot will shut up.
My father doesn’t know the truth. That I’m not his biological daughter. That I was born from secret scandal. He doesn’t even understand that I’m no longer a child.
“You see, Morgan,” Lancelot continues, glancing at me, “whenever someone shows affection for you, you turn away.”
“Will you quit patronizing me?” I finally snap. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
Lancelot grabs my elbow tightly. “Don’t walk in front of me,” he warns. “Remember your position as a knight.”
I take a breath. “I’m sorry.”
The threat of being contained looms over me. Always. It’s all I see in the past now, and all I see ahead of me.
I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut twice in a row. By the time I get to the training room where other Gray Knights are waiting, I’m so furious that I’m eager to test the limits of my physical strength. I’ll do all the obstacle course and pushups Lancelot wants.
There are too many problems strangling me: my father is upset, I lost my temper with Lancelot—my only supporter in this mess, and my half brother is friends with the man wh
o wants him dead.
The expression on my face must be terrible because when I meet eyes with Agravain, he scowls and steps toward me.
“Got a problem?” he demands.
“Not with you,” I reply.
“Why so late, Le Fay?” he sneers.
I ignore him as I stretch, preparing for the workout. I do my usual routine of loosening up the tight muscles around my neck.
“Why so absent all the time for that matter?” Agravain continues.
“Leave her alone,” someone says with an Irish accent. Isolde glances at Agravain disapprovingly.
I marvel at her courage. It can’t be easy to stand up for the worst criminal in the UK. Other knights look at her with judging eyes.
“I’m just concerned for Le Fay,” Agravain says defensively. “She looks so tired. She’s busy sleeping around with the big boss, Sir Lancelot.”
“Shut up,” I snap.
“You leave with him for hours at a time,” he says.
“Get to the point,” I demand. “You want to call me a slut, then call me a slut and then leave me alone.”
“Okay,” Agravain says. “Slut.”
My mind blanks as the last string holding my sanity together snaps. I lunge at Agravain.
Before he registers what’s happening, I’m all over him, his skull knocking onto the shiny floor. I punch him in the face repeatedly, and I can’t stop myself from crushing his eye socket with the ball of my fist.
People are screaming all around. They sound far away to me. My focus is on destroying Agravain below me. Someone touches my shoulders. I shove the person back.
“Le Fay!”
The voices make me hit harder—determined to push the noise away.
A hand roughly pulls me up by the collar. I thrash, screaming bloody murder until I break out of the grasp and fall to the floor.
Once I hit the ground, I blink the stars out of my eyes and hastily stand back up.
Lancelot looms over me. He grabs me by the collar again.
“I said that’s enough!” he snaps at me.
His hand shakes. Slowly my action dawns on me.
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