When I didn’t move, he stared pointedly at the open spot at the end of the couch.
I shook my head. “Not going to happen. Quit stalling.”
“Okay,fine.”He rested his arms behind his head and crossed an ankle over the other. “So, the way they tell it is that this guy, let’s call him…Daddy D’Arthur, not to be confused with Drake D’Arthur, or any otherDaddyenergy you may have picked up on in close proximity.”
I stared blankly at him.
He pouted, but then smirked, stealing my go-to move and deflecting because I hurt his big, bad feelings.
Realizing I wouldn’t appease him, he leaned his head back and started sharing. “So, Daddy D’Arthur, they say he knocked up a nice lady, and he was all set to welcome a baby boy. The kingdom rejoiced! The next heir. Apparently, that’s a big deal or something. I don’t know.”
He peeked at me through one eye, and when I shot him a droll look, he closed his eyes again.
“Anyway, he and his lady love were sleeping soundly in their unholy premarital bed one night when it happened. The place caught fire. Newspapers called it the biggest blaze they’d seen in a century.”
My hands flew to my mouth. “Oh my god, that’s terrible.”
“Yeah, I know.” He nodded, staring out at the moon. “They almost lost Pendragon completely.”
I gaped at him. “Not the house, you numbskull! The family that died.”
“Oh, yeah.” Morty waved his hand. “Tragic, I’m sure.”
Taking a page from Kingston’s book, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How can you be so insensitive about that?”
He shrugged.
I frowned, but before I could respond, he swung his legs off the couch and sat up. Bracing his elbows on his thighs, he clasped his hands under his chin and stared at me.
And maybe it was a trick of the light. Maybe the moon casting an eerie glow added something dark and dangerous to his features. But I shivered at the intensity in his gaze.
“That fire is the reason Camelot Court is the way it is today. The reason the man in the highest chair is whoheis. Instead of all this being ruled over by a slightly less satanic option, who had the ability to love, at least, and who could see past wealth as an eligibility factor, we got blessed with our beloved leader.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That fire, those deaths, are why Drake D’Arthur rules with a bloodied, iron fist. Why he’ll do anything, no matter how despicable or cruel, to make sure nothing threatens the D’Arthur’s seat of power. Ever again. Not now thatheholds it, when it should’ve fallen to someone else.”
After tossing and turning all night, disturbed by dreams of house fires, my mom and dad, and Max, I woke too early and gave up on the idea of sleep.
Thinking through what Morty had shared the night before, I couldn’t help but wonder if the fire hadn’t been an accident.
Suddenly, I understood the fear Drake D’Arthur instilled. He was ruthless, but also unpredictable.
How did we protect what we loved against an opponent whose next move we couldn’t see coming?
And Drake wasn’t the only threat.
The Valencourts lurked in the background, too. If Max’s gesture during our lesson the day before had been a sign, they had something strong enough to keep him in line.
In that case, I had to take them seriously. Maybe I had to consider that it wasn’t as simple as I wanted it to be, that promising to fight with him wasn’t enough.
If it was the opposite, and Max had been using me for his grander plan of getting him and Vivian out of Camelot Court, a thought that soured my stomach and I refused to fully accept, I was still out of my depth here.
I also realized I hadn’t asked Max about my clue.Again.
With half the Knights and Ladies out of commission for food poisoning, I’d have time to ask him the next day, so I resolved to ask him when I saw him.
Bright and early the next morning, before I left Camelot Courtyard, my eyes gravitated to Max’s room, and I hesitated.
