I shrieked—raw and animal—and ripped myself free.
"No!" I stumbled backward, nearly falling over the table behind me. "No, no,no—"
My cock hung between my legs, still hard, still slick with her spit.
I thought I might vomit.
I opened my eyes and pushed away from her, willing my erection to fade. The witch only cackled in amusement, no doubt thrilled by the angry flush of mortification and shame that was staining my cheeks. When I could breathe again, I looked at her.
“Come closer,” Blodeuwyn beckoned, her fingers curling like withered roots.
I didn't move.
"Don't you want to know where she is? Don't you want to claim her?"
We must find her!
I stepped forward. Then again. Her scent surrounded me—decay, damp earth, pestilence. The firelight behind her threw a monstrous silhouette on the wall—more truth than illusion.
“Closer,” she whispered.
I forced myself forward, though every instinct screamed at me torun. Her gnarled hands rose toward my face, shaking with eagerness.
That’s when I saw it.
The flicker oftriumphin her eyes. Not desire. Not hunger.Victory.
And suddenly, Iknew.
I wasn’t trading flesh—I was tradingeverything. My dignity. My crown. My values. The very foundation of my rule. I was becoming exactly what I feared to be: a hypocrite, willing to embrace the darkness I’d outlawed, so long as it served me.
I caught her wrists before she could touch me. “No.”
Surprise flickered across her ancient face.
"This is not the way," I said, shaking my head as I pushed her away and stepped back toward the door.
Her eyes narrowed. "You would leave without your answers? Without knowing where Guinevere is and how you can find her? You would leave without gaining that which you came here for?”
“I would leave with my soul intact. Whatever Guinevere represents—threat or salvation—I’ll face her as aking. Through strength. Through honor. Not through desperate bargains made in shadows.”
Blodeuwyn's expression twisted into fury. “Fool! You stand at the edge of ruin! Without my guidance—”
“—without yourmanipulation,” I corrected, snatching up my cloak. “I’ve ruled Logres for years by my own judgment. I won’t surrender it now—not even to know what I want most.”
The hovel groaned. The door creaked open on its own.
Blodeuwyn's laughter followed me as I walked through it. Wild. Crooked. Mocking.
“Pride before the fall, Arthur Pendragon!” she shrieked. “Pride before the fall!”
-ARTHUR-
Seven Years Earlier
The Whispering Wilds did not like us here.
Even before we stepped into the clearing, the forest pressed close, branches knitting overhead like fingers trying to claw us back. The air smelled of damp earth and old magic—older than Camelot, older than Pendragons. The trees murmured as we passed, their leaves shivering without wind, as if they knew what we carried and wanted no part of it.
