And I believed Excalibur held the key to everything—that it could restore the balance between man and beast that grew more precarious with each passing day. Perhaps it could silence the ancient voice that grew stronger in my thoughts, more insistent in its demands.
I pulled.
Muscles strained. Jaw clenched. Sweat beaded on my brow despite the chill.
Nothing.
Not even a tremble.
"Fuck!" I shouted, startling a pair of crows into flight.
The sword remained unmoved, mocking me with its silence.
The sword rejects us for we are not pure.
I released the hilt and stepped back, chest heaving. Another failure. Another crack in the foundation of my reign. Another opportunity to be discovered as the fraud I had become.
I considered the false Excalibur displayed in my throne room, hung in the center of the wall for all to see. Eventually, someone would expose it for what it truly was—a counterfeit. And eventually, they would discover that the king had lost the ability to draw the blade and had been powerless to do so for years.
"Why?" The word tore out of me. "If I'm still the chosen one, why can’t I reclaim what’s rightfully mine?"
Nimue’s gaze softened. "Youwerethe chosen one, Arthur Pendragon. But the dragonmark corrupts." She paused. "The dragon's fire speaks louder than your heart."
Her words struck like iron. I shook my head. "You know I sacrificed myself to take the dragonmark. Without it, the realm would have perished."
"Regardless, Arthur Pendragon, the sword now finds you unfit to rule."
My hands fisted at my sides. "There would be no Camelot, no Logres if not for me. If not for the sacrificeImade."
The growl that followed my words was draconic—yet another instance of the darkness overtaking me.
"Excalibur remembers Uther’s fall. It will not support yours.”
I remembered my father's fall too, only too well. The dragonmark was the only way to restrain the dragon, but it granted inhuman power at the same time that it warped the mind. Uther grew obsessed with dominance, control, and prophecy. Eventually, he couldn’t tell the dragon’s will from his own.
"I am not my father."
It was the same thing I’d told myself countless times. Even now, the memory of the day Uther slaughtered his own men burned brightly in my mind. He'd unleashed the dragonfire on hisownarmy—blinded by rage or prophecy, I didn't know. But I’d watched it. He’d incinerated three hundred men. He hadn’t even blinked.
Of course, the kingdom had covered it up—but Ineverforgot.
"I am the chosen one," I insisted.
"Youwerethe chosen one. But now the sword awaits another."
This was the first she had spoken of this—of the sword awaiting another. The revelation struck me hard, driving the breath from my lungs as the full implication crashed over me. My eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as my heart began tohammer in earnest. The dragon stirred within me, sensing my rising fury, enjoying it.
"Tell me who threatens my rule!" The demand tore from my throat with barely contained violence, each word edged with the promise of retribution.
The lake rippled again, stirred by forces I couldn't see.
"One will come, who carries twilight in their veins."
Twilight.
"From Annwyn?"
"Neither wholly of Logres nor of Annwyn. A bridge between worlds."
