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And I froze in my tracks. Standing next to her bed, clad in a dark gown and veil, was Morgan le Fey . Eris. She was standing motionlessly over my mother, watching her as she slept. My heart practically stopped beating and I gasped.
At the sound, Morgan’s head snapped around and she all but snarled. Before I could even react, she was gone from the room in a flash, disappearing in a blur of black through the doorway. Like a streak, I followed her, watching the spot of color slip around the corner of the hall. Using goddess speed, I followed her.
My pursuit landed me at the doorway of a room in the bottom of the castle. At the very dregs, next to the dungeon, the door I was facing was plain and wooden, free of any embellishment whatsoever. Breathing quickly, I pushed the door open.
Morgan faced me from across the room, standing over a shimmering mirror.
"What are you?" she hissed. "You are not human."
"Why were you in the queen’s rooms?" I answered her question with a question.
"You have no right to be there."
"I can feel that there is something different about you," she replied. "And something different about her, as well. I will determine what it is."
"You cannot enter the queen’s chambers for a whim," I sniffed. "That is not your right, even as the king’s sister. And certainly not when he is so disgusted with you."
She clenched her jaw and I could tell that I struck a nerve. She had used her position as Arthur’s sister to her advantage on more than one occasion. It annoyed her that it was a perilous position now, even though it was of her own doing.
"And you," she snarled. "You act so pious and wise, yet I have seen that you will be undone by a child. A child! All that you are, everything that you value, will rest in the hands of a child. Yet you speak to me as though I am the fool."
My heart slammed in my chest. I would be undone by a child? What the hell was she talking about? I focused on her malicious face, pushing the troubling thoughts away. I could think on them later.
"I did not speak to you as a fool," I corrected. "You are not a fool. You are evil, but not a fool. However, your back is to a wall now. You have boxed yourself in with your brother. What will you do?"
"I do not answer to you," she hissed and she disappeared, leaving me alone in the damp darkness of the musty room.
I stood for a moment, gathering my thoughts, before I looked around. Thick books of magic with weathered covers were scattered about, a large mirror was lying in the center of the room surrounded by a circle of ash. Clearly, this was her hideaway where she dabbled in witchcraft. Or, at least, she thought it was witchcraft. What she didn’t know was that any supernatural ability that she had was a direct result of her true identity.
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As I ruffled through parchments filled with writing, I came across one that stilled the breath on my lips. An entire parchment was full of notes about mythology and Morgan’s theories about Zeus’ sword. Her thoughts about his sword would not have been alarming but for one minor detail. No mortal was aware of its existence.
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Chapter Eight
Harmonia, where are you?
I heard my mother’s question in my head, her voice strangely sharp. Instantly, I imagined myself with her and within a second, I appeared at her side in her bedchambers.
"You shouldn’t do that," she observed, her long hair pulled over her shoulder.
"What if someone walked in at just the right moment and saw you?"
"I know, I know," I dismissed the concern, "But you sounded upset and we have an issue."
"Of course we do," she sighed. "We have many issues."
"This one is pressing," I replied and I told her of what I had found.
"Now I’m upset," she responded, rising to stare out her window. She tapped her finger furiously along the bricks of the sill, the rapid cadence a clear indication of her agitation.
"And that’s not all," I continued.
"Of course not," she muttered. "What else?"
"I… er… interfered."
"Interfered?" she turned with a raised eyebrow severely. "What do you mean, interfered? With what?"
"We should sit," I suggested and led her to her bed. Sinking into the softness, I shared what had happened with Arthur in the chapel. When I was finished, her face was a rigid mask of frustration.
"Harmonia!" she exclaimed in her best mother’s voice. "We’ve talked about this.
We don’t know what will happen. You cannot interfere."
"But I already did," I pointed out. "It’s already done."
"You can just turn right around and go back to him and tell him that you changed your mind. That you do not want to interfere." My mother’s face was stubborn and set mulishly.
"Tell the king that I’ve changed my mind?" I asked doubtfully. "I don’t think that would go over so well. And mother, you should have seen him. I couldn’t bear it. He’s in so much pain. And once I said that I would help, that I would talk to you, he lit up like a light. I can’t crush him. I can’t."
Guinevere sighed. "You’ve got a soft heart, daughter. I suppose I shall have to do what you cannot."
"What do you mean?" I asked suspiciously.
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"Well, you told him that you would speak to me. And you have. So now, it’s in my hands, isn’t it? I’ll just have to take a hard line with him. I shall have to not forgive him."
I gasped.
"Mother, don’t," I pleaded. "Truly, if you could just see him, you would know why I feel so strongly. He’s a good man and he doesn’t deserve any of this."
My mother’s face clouded over and she opened her mouth to speak, but a commotion from outside caught our attention and we hurried to her windows to look.
The castle’s giant gates were open and two wooden wagons slowly rolled in, pulled by tired mules and surrounded by raggedly dressed pheasants. They were in an uproar and we tried to see what the fuss was about.
I watched their dirty faces and found them full of emotion…anger, sadness, outrage. Their clothing was in tatters, most of them barefoot, all of them filthy-spattered with mud. I held my breath in trepidation as the wagons drew closer, creaking past the main hall entrance and coming to a slow stop directly beneath Guinevere’s windows.