Page 31 of Queen Takes Camelot: Gwen
Of course, she did not. This inferior imposter knew nothing at all. “The Welsh fairies,” I growled. “Guinevere’s father was a fairy king.”
“Daughter of a goddess and a fairy king.” Gwen sipped her tea with a bemused smile curving her lips. “Is that why I was able to pass through the veil?”
Morgan lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “Yes and no. As an Aima queen, your blood offering would have revealed the veil too. All daughters of the goddesses are welcome here. But you especially are always welcome whether you offer a sacrifice or not. The fae blood still sings in you, though you hear it not.”
Her head tipped slightly, as if she listened to the wind and the rustling branches. I held my breath, hoping she might feel the singing in her blood. That she might remember all that we’d lost. But she shrugged and took another sip of her tea.
My shoulders slumped. We had lost so much. So very much. How could we strike down Arthur now after so long? While we’d lost power, he had surely gained in strength, feeding on our misery and all the pain he’d caused.
“Gwyn fancied himself a psychopomp,” Morgan continued. “He gathered the souls of the great warriors and brought them to the underworld. Eventually the Tylwyth Teg became associated more with demons than fairies, taking on a darker edge. Gwyn reveled in his power and even kidnapped his sister, and later his nephew. He tortured and murdered at will, spreading the darkness in his realm. It was only years later, after King Arthur visited Annwyn to retrieve the stolen child, that Guinevere learned the truth. Her father had been corrupted by his ring, the gatherer of souls. The more souls it held, the darker and more malevolent its power. When King Arthur returned to your world, he stole Gwyn’s ring.”
Gwen gasped. “Shara told me that ring was the source of Arthur’s power. But Findabair chronicles recorded the ring as Guinevere’s wedding gift to him.”
“That was the story he put out.” My lips twisted sourly. “He loved being able to claim his wife was both queen and fairy, and the ring took on more significance if he claimed his royal father-in-law had gifted the treasure to him as a wedding gift.”
“Lying black-hearted bloody bastard,” Bors muttered. “Fuck.”
I grinned at him. Now I remembered why he’d been one of my favorite knights.
“Freed of the darkness, Gwyn refused to reclaim the ring and charged his daughter with finding a way to destroy it.” Morgan sighed, shaking her head. “She saw the darkness spreading through Camelot, twisting Arthur more and more every day. She loved him once and believed that if she could divest him of the ring that he would be the man she loved once more. Everything she did from that moment on was to try and undo the darkness of that cursed ring, for only something fae could destroy it.”
“Excalibur was never Arthur’s sword,” Lance said slowly, his mouth hanging open a moment in shock as the memory emerged.
Morgan nodded. “Excalibur was forged here with the sole purpose of destroying the ring. Nimue placed it in the stone for Guinevere to retrieve, but with the ring’s power, Arthur was able to discover their plan and claimed the sword as his own. The story was embellished over the centuries, only adding to his fame and glory.”
Gwen focused on me. I searched her face, trying to find any trace of my queen. Maybe her eyes? Though Guinevere’s eyes had been brilliant emerald green. This woman’s eyes were more muted. Everything about her was grayed. Lesser. Worn down by the passage of centuries. I rubbed my chest absently, trying to ease the ache.
“How and why did Guinevere send you here?”
“We needed another fae-forged weapon. Something small and inconsequential that Arthur wouldn’t suspect. After he intercepted the sword, she wanted one of us to come personally and fetch it for her. So she told me, at least. By then, Arthur kept her under careful scrutiny. He would have been suspicious if she opened the veil to send anyone through herself. She refused to ask Bors to drown again, and Lancelot couldn’t leave for obvious reasons. I was the only one left who carried fae blood who could go through the veil without her assistance. All very reasonable, yes?”
I growled and slammed my fist down on the table, rattling the teacups. Unable to continue the story. Unable to admit how she’d lied to me. Tricked me. My very own beloved queen.
Morgan rang a crystal bell. Immediately, beautiful young lads dressed in jeweled robes came to clear the spilled tea and broken dishes away. “Guinevere saw the curse unfolding as Arthur’s power grew. She saw what would happen to the world if he gained Merlin’s power as well as her own. In an attempt to stall the worst of the curse, she sent Merlin to us to protect him. To prevent him from returning, she sacrificed the last of her fae power to lock the passage back until someone of her blood was able to unlock the veil once more.”
I pushed up from the chair and paced back and forth alongside the table. “I didn’t need protection! I could have blasted him from the sky, torn off his wings and used his black heart in my darkest magicks yet.”
“The cost to your soul—” Morgan began.
I cut her off, whirling so hard and fast my robes fluttered about me like wings. “Fuck my soul! I would rather have damned myself for all time than allow my queen to suffer one moment of pain and misery. Instead, the fucking bastard king burned her. Burned her! My queen! Tortured and trapped, doomed to fail generation after generation until all that’s left is this… this…” I waved my hand at Gwen. “Shellof the great queen we loved. A fraction, a bare shadow, of Guinevere remains, our only hope of defeating him.”
“How dare you?” Lance retorted, drawing his sword partway free.
Gwen laid her hand on his arm, stalling his attack. “He’s right, Lance.”
Breathing hard, he glared at me, the muscles in his arm quivering as he fought to contain his rage and obey. “Never, my queen. You’re no shell. Camelot shines once more, and if he’s too arrogant to see that…”
I guffawed, even though I’d rather sob at all we’d lost. “You ignorant louts wouldn’t have any idea how brightly Camelot once shone. You can’t remember how great our queen’s nest was, or you’d never even suggest such a thing. I’m sorry, Gwen. I truly don’t mean to insult you, but we must face the facts. The truth is that you’re nowhere near Guinevere’s power, which affects how we proceed.”
She stood, her gaze steady, her chin up proudly despite my words. “I may not be as strong as Guinevere, but let me remind you that your great and powerful queen lost to Arthur, not once but countless times over the centuries. She died over and over, heartbroken and alone. Her magic, broken. Her house, destroyed. All that’s left of Camelot is standing right here before you.”
Tossing her head slightly so her hair fell back from her face, she straightened to her full height. Her body was taller and thicker than my Guinevere, who’d been willowy and delicate thanks to her fae heritage. I’d often joked that she might blow away like dandelion fluff if we didn’t hold her down and keep her grounded.
“Guinevere’s line hasn’t successfully called Blood in generations. I havethree.” A small smile softened her lips, but her eyes flashed with pride and a touch of anger. She rightfully did not count me as Blood. Not yet.
I didn’t know if I would ever be able to swear to her with so little of my queen remaining. Even if that was the only way we could break the curse once and for all.
“I unlocked what had been shut for over a thousand years. Even more importantly, I forced Arthur from a blood circle he’d infiltrated. We wounded him. We hurt him.” She gripped the crescent moon dangling from her throat, and I smelled her blood welling up. “I may not be as strong as her, but I have powerful allies she never had. I have friends ready and willing to do anything to help us.”
