Page 46 of The Faerie Morgana
“My lord,” she murmured, eyes downcast.
“It’s good to see you.” He squeezed her fingers before releasing her hand. “Is she better?”
“I think she is, by the hand of the Lady.” Braithe stepped aside so he could see for himself.
Arthur looked past her to the bed where Morgana sat, pillows at her back, blanket over her long legs, startling silver hair spilling over her shoulders. His smile died as he stared at her. His face paled, and his lips parted as if he would speak, but could not.
“My king,” Morgana said softly.
“Sister,” he whispered. “What— How did this—”
She held out her hand with its elongated fingers, and hecrossed the room to take it. “You’re cold,” he said, chafing her hand between his own.
“No,” she said, and one of her rare smiles appeared for the first time since she had resumed her own shape. Braithe sighed to see it, and inwardly blessed Arthur for inspiring it. “Warm enough, thanks to the brat here. I am very glad to see you, sir.”
He seized a chair and pulled it close to the bed. Braithe came to stand at the foot, where she could watch them both. “How did you come to be so ill?” Arthur said, seating himself, leaning forward to look into his sister’s face. “And what magic transformed your hair into—into—” He made a helpless gesture, finally saying, “Into this river of moonlight?”
“A romantic description,” Morgana said, glancing down at the white tresses trailing across her breast.
“Tell him,” Braithe blurted. Morgana shot her a look of fire, but Braithe spread her hands defensively. “I will close the door. Surely you can trust your brother with your secret.”
“I trust my king,” Morgana said.
Braithe murmured, “Your king should know what happened, Priestess. She could try again.”
Arthur turned his head to give her a quizzical look. “What? What happened? Who might try—” He tugged his forelock in a boyish gesture, which made him look like the lad he truly was. It was as if, in his confusion, the sobering mantle of responsibility fell briefly from his shoulders. Even his voice rose a little in pitch, abandoning the bass notes it had recently acquired. He said, “I marvel at the transformation of your hair, sister. They say such a thing belongs only to the fae, but that can’t be so.”
“You know my parentage as well as I, sir.”
Braithe hurried to close the door, and to draw the bar across. Morgana exhaled a long sigh and let her head fall back against her pillows. “Braithe is right, I think. We should tell you the tale. I will let her do it, because too much speaking tires me. But,” she added, managing despite her weakness to sound stern, “I will correct your mistakes, brat.”
“I have no doubt,” Braithe said, affecting a dry tone. She understood the warning.
Arthur said, “What are the two of you talking about? Braithe, tell me quickly!”
It wasn’t quick, but Braithe told the story as economically as she could. She began with Morgana being sent away from Camulod for having given Uther a flawed charm. She recounted Morgana’s vision of Morgause and the assassin. “This will surprise you, my lord,” she said. “But your sister posed as a man in order to gain access to the castle, and to prevent the assassination attempt.”
“You dressed as a man?” Arthur asked Morgana.
“I did.” She gave Braithe a sidelong look. “That was the easy part.”
“And what was the hard part?”
Braithe held her breath.
Morgana said only, “Dealing with Morgause and her assassin.”
“But—wait.” Arthur frowned, looking from Braithe to Morgana. “I’m not sure I understand. Did you sayherassassin? We were told a man came into the queen’s chambers to kill her forsome reason, but she managed to kill him instead. Are you saying Morgause herself hired the killer?”
“He was meant for you, my lord,” Braithe said. “To preserve the throne for Mordred.”
Arthur’s blue eyes darkened until they were almost indigo. “And Morgana? It was you who killed the man?”
“It was necessary.” Morgana let her eyelids drift down as she drew a tremulous breath. “You’re doing well, brat. Finish the tale.”
Braithe said, “I had a feeling something was wrong. I was supposed to wait for the priestess to return, but I was so worried that I set out in one of the rowboats to cross Ilyn by myself. I found the priestess on the shore below Camulod, exhausted.”
“But how could you have known she needed you?”
