For a long while, we rode in silence. Then, unable to restrain my curiosity any longer, I asked, “Are you certain you remember this woman correctly? Memory can be… unreliable, especially when bound to strong emotion.”
Arthur reined in Cabal abruptly. The animal snorted, tossing its head, but he didn’t move. “I see her face every time I close my eyes,” he said, his voice tight with conviction. “A face I could no more forget than my own name.”
I studied him carefully. “And none of the women we’ve seen matched her? None of them even close?”
He let out a harsh breath. “Some had pale hair, yes, but hers was…” He searched for words, then shook his head. “Different. Otherworldly. As if she wasn’t meant to walk among mortals.”
I frowned, my concern deepening. “Then where could she have gone? If she’s not in Logres—”
Arthur’s expression hardened. “Perhaps she didn’t flee. Perhaps shevanished.Or perhaps,” he said, his voice lowering, “she was never real to begin with."
"A dream then? A hallucination?"
He shook his head. "I am growing more and more convinced that she is a witch sent to torment me. A witch from Merlin.”
The accusation caught me off guard. “A witch?” I echoed. “You truly think Merlin could have sent her?”
Arthur’s gaze turned flinty. “It fits his style—testing me through temptation and doubt.”
We had discussed the idea that this could have been Merlin's doing early on when Arthur had first told me about the girl. Now I wondered if we were headed in the right direction. I hesitated. “To what end?”
“To undermine my rule,” he answered bitterly. “What better way to unravel the faith of my people than to have another draw the sword that crowned me? It would be just like him—to cloak treachery in beauty.”
“And if Merlin had nothing to do with it?"
Arthur turned to look at me then, his eyes shadowed beneath his brow. “Then the world itself has turned against me, Lance. And I don’t know which thought I fear more.”
We rode in silence for a while before I found the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at me.
“What will you do if you find her?”
Arthur’s face was unreadable. “I haven’t decided. Part of me wants her dead—for the threat she poses.” His voice dropped, darker now. “But another part…”
I knew that look in his eyes—the same one I’d seen when he spoke of Annwyn, when he hungered for Merlin’s power. It was the look of a man who wanted the very thing that could destroy him.
“I must possess her,” he said, his voice low and charged, the same tone he used when speaking of conquests—on the battlefield or in bed. “I’ve never wanted a woman more, Lance. She haunts my dreams every fucking night.”
"How long has it been since you took a woman to your bed?"
His glare was pronounced. "If you're going to advise taking a wench to bed in order to get this goddess out of my mind, save your breath. From the moment I saw her, thoughts of any other women died. They are nothing. She is…everything."
His vigor was unnerving. This wasn’t mere desire—it had now turned into full-blown obsession.
"Arthur—"
He turned to me, his eyes burning. “I must have her.”
I couldn’t speak. My throat tightened like something unseen had seized it. Arthur’s fixations were always dangerous—for his enemies, certainly, but often for those caught in the middle. This woman—whoever she truly was—had wandered straight into a storm. If she was real, that is.
I wanted to warn him against this insanity—because that was exactly what it sounded like. To remind him that not everything could be claimed by right of crown or sword. But I didn’t. And yet, the hesitation must’ve shown on my face because his gaze hardened.
"Had you seen her, Lance, I daresay you would have felt the same way."
Undoubtedly not. I might have lusted after her, certainly, but my feelings for women were straightforward—they provided a service I needed. End of story. I never got attached, and I never would get attached.
“We should return,” I said. “The Hunt Trial preparations require your attention.”
"Very well."
