But he didn't know what had truly happened to Uther. He didn't know about the dragonmark. And he certainly didn't know I'd taken the mark to save the kingdom.
Perhaps Kay had been right back then—perhaps I had been weak. But I was not that boy any longer. Whatever softness remained had been stripped away by years of war and treachery.
Still, I kept Kay close—not from love, but calculation. A sword sharp enough to cut the king is best kept sheathed at his side.
His display today was as unsettling as I expected. He'd pointed out a fracture in one of the great hall's columns—hairline, invisible to every other eye. How many other weaknesses had he catalogued? In the walls. In the court. In me?
More than once, I caught him watching me. Not with hatred—just that same old scrutiny. As if he were still keeping tally. Still waiting for proof he’d always been right.
I stepped beneath the final archway of stone, my boots striking stone worn smooth by centuries of passage. Above me, the carved dragon loomed—marking the boundary between Camelot's manicured splendor and the wilder lands beyond.
Here, order gave way to something older.
The grove stretched ahead: a sanctuary of towering oaks, their gnarled limbs weaving a cathedral of branches overhead. Moonlight poured through in silver shafts, softening the darkness. The air shifted—cleaner somehow, untouched by the politics and suspicion that tainted every breath within the castle walls.
The Lake of Aeloria shimmered under the moon—still and silver as a mirror, the stars caught in its surface like a second sky. I drew in a slow breath.
I took another step—and froze.
A figure stood at the water's edge.
A girl. Slender. Alone.
Her back was to me.
A servant girl, by the look of her plain dress and the tattered cloak around her shoulders. White hair spilled down her back like liquid moonlight.
Servants didn't come here—they weren't permitted past the boundary of Camelot's walls. And they especially didn't come here at this hour, this far from the castle.
And yet she stood there with quiet purpose, her shoulders square, her chin lifted—as if the lake belonged to her.
I should have called out to her, demanded to know what business she had here. But I didn't.
Instead, I watched.
For reasons I couldn't name, I held my breath.
And waited.
-GUIN-
I couldn’t explain the pull that drew me to the water’s edge.
Something about this lake felt hauntingly familiar—like a half-remembered dream or a melody I’d once known but had since forgotten.
My feet moved seemingly on their own, carrying me closer.
A rational voice screamed from within:You're exposed here—vulnerable, out of place. What servant girl wanders this far from the castle at night without drawing suspicion?
There’s no one here, Guin,I reminded myself.Only you.
Still, the lake called—silent, seductive, as irresistible as a siren’s song to a doomed sailor.
Touch me,it whispered, though the air remained perfectly still.
I heard the distant sound of an owl hooting in one of the trees—I wasn't certain if the sound was a warning or encouragement to drop to my knees and touch the water.
Regardless, I knelt and let my fingers skim the water.
