Morgana seemed slightly perturbed that I wouldn’t play along, but she quickly shook it off and her unearthly lavender gaze narrowed. “Mordred is of an age to start learning swordsmanship.”
I scoffed inwardly at that. Mordred was ten and four years old, long past the age to pick up a sword. Even I had started my training when I was barely more than a babe and could hold the chipped wooden practice sword that all of my older brothers had used.
But Morgana kept her only son close, not allowing him to mingle with me or any of our other brothers. I barely knew the lad and Agravaine, Gaheris, and Gareth even less so.
Morgana continued, oblivious to my clear distaste for her coming request. “I would like for you to ask Arthur if he would be willing to teach his only nephew how to use a sword.”
There it was. The reason she had needed to speak with me.
It was not lost on me that she had referred to my king casually by his first name—purporting the closeness that they had never actually possessed.
Arthur tolerated his half-sister, but I knew that at the best of times the woman made him uncomfortable, and at the worst, heworried she would try to place her own son on his throne as his heir. Morgana’s ambition was famous in Logres and as Mordred grew older, so did it.
“He needs a strong alpha to show him how to behave like one and I believe my brother is the perfect man to do so,” she said as if she and Arthur were close.
I blinked with surprise at her words. Last I had heard, Mordred still had not awakened as anything but a beta and if he needed an alpha wouldn’t our father be the correct one to teach him?
Glancing over her shoulder at my father, I found his gaze to be hazy and far away, as if he was not really present with us.
Frowning, I looked back into Morgana’s eyes and found that they seemed to be glowing in the dim light of the corridor. They looked the same as Merlin’s had when he spoke of the portent that brought Guinevere to us. The same portent that I had been trying to mull over before Morgana had stopped me.
“Would Agravaine not be a better person to ask?” I asked, grinding out the words through gritted teeth, trying my damndest to avoid the sudden intensity of her eyes.
“No, Agravaine does not hold Arthur’s ear as you do,” Morgana said with a shake of her head, reaching for my hands and frowning when I pulled them out of her grasp. “I wish for Mordred to understand where he came from.”
Everything about what she was saying rang true as a mother’s desperate plea, but still her expression remained cold and focused.
A buzzing filled my head, making it ache fiercely as I tried to find the right words to reject her with.
“You are his elder brother, Gawain,” my father finally chimed in gruffly from behind Morgana. “It is your duty to do this.”
I pressed the heel of my hand to my head, trying to soothe away the ache.
“Come now,” Morgana’s voice reverberated soothingly in my ears. “You want to help him, do you not?”
And suddenly Ididwant to help Mordred. I had always felt… sad about the distance in our relationship. I had been sent to Arthur when I was ten and seven and as such I barely knew my little brother.
Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
The words echoed through my mind and I let out a sudden groan as the pain in my head reached a fever pitch and I nearly doubled over with it.
Then, as soon as it had begun, the pain was gone and my head was clear again.
“That will be quite enough, Morgana,” a familiar voice said from behind me and I whirled to find none other than Merlin standing a few feet away.
He was still dressed in the dark blue tunic that he had worn when marrying Arthur and Guinevere earlier. After the wedding the wizard had disappeared entirely, so I was surprised to find him here now, looking at Morgana with such a hostile expression.
“Merlin,” Morgana purred, straightening as the other man came to join us. “I was wondering when you would darken Arthur’s doorstep again and it seems you have brought a princess with you as well.”
I shifted with surprise at her words. The way she said them made it sound as if she knew that Guinevere was not from our time.
Merlin, however, did not seem perturbed by what she had said at all. Instead, he just offered the woman a slow, knowing smile. “The gods work in mysterious ways, do they not? Tell me, do you fiddle with the minds of all of your family members?”
Morgana’s own smile fell and she turned away from us, hurrying back to her husband who had said nothing since encouraging me to ask Arthur to take Mordred on.
Before she left, she turned to throw one last thing over her shoulder: “The world has moved on without you these past ten years, Merlin, do not forget that.”
Merlin watched with amusement as the pair hurried away before turning to me.
