Or to watch as their loved ones suffered the consequences. Guinevere would not let Lily suffer for this.
Hild’s brother took another step forward. His face was as still as stone, but his cheeks were wet. “You must pay.”
Guinevere met his gaze. “I agree. But you cannot hurt my sister.”
He closed the distance between them, one hand raised toward Guinevere’s neck, his eyes dead save the tears streaming from them. And then he gasped as the tip of a blade appeared from the middle of his stomach. It disappeared, and Hild’s brother stumbled to the side, falling off the edge of the platform and down the mountain.
“Guinevere,” Lancelot breathed, bloodied sword in one hand and Guinevere’s crown in the other.
Lancelot’s sword was black in the moonlight. Guinevere could not look away from the terrible length of it as Lancelot whirled, searching for more threats. “I saw him on the stairs. I ran as fast as I could to catch you. I should never have let you out of my sight. Did Morgan le Fay send him?”
“No. It was me.”
“What?”
“I made it happen. It is my fault.” Guinevere tore her eyes from the blade and stared out into the night sky pressing in around them. The night sky that had swallowed Hild’s brother. She still could not remember his name. And he was another person dead because of her. Because she was queen.
“Where is Lily?” Lancelot edged toward the drop-off, her expression terrified.
Guinevere went to the last column and extended her hand. “He is gone.”
Lily grasped Guinevere’s hand. She clung to the column and eased one foot around until it was on solid ground, then swung the rest of the way into Guinevere’s arms. “Are we safe?” she asked.
Guinevere could not answer honestly. How could she ever tell anyone they were safe? She had destroyed King Mark’s mind and thrown his kingdom into upheaval. She had killed Ramm. She had killed Hild. She had killed the dragon. She had killed Hild’s brother. She had killed Maleagant and his men, and then her choices had brought the Dark Queen back to physical form. She had brought Morgan le Fay to the castle simply by being here. And who could say what the Lady of the Lake would do if she ever found her?
No one was safe around her. She was not a protector. She was a curse.
She patted Lily’s back, then shifted her
toward Lancelot and swung herself around the column, her foot barely reaching the other side. She scrambled inside. The space was exactly as she knew it would be. Whatever Morgana had said, whatever face Guinevere wore, Guinevere had known about things only the Lady of the Lake had. Her back to the stone wall, she shuffled around the dark circle. Far beneath her she could hear greedy, eternal water. Darkness beneath darkness. She stared into the hole and wondered.
In the dream, everything that drew her here had also pushed her in. Guinevere had been terrified when she woke up, but in the dream there had been no fear. Only assurance. Purpose. Determination.
If she jumped, would she find those things again?
“Guinevere!” A strong hand grasped her arm. One of her feet slipped over the edge and Lancelot yanked her back, pressing her against her own chest. “What are you doing?”
“I do not know,” Guinevere whispered. “I do not know.”
“Come on.” Lancelot maneuvered both of them along the tiny ledge around the hole and then back onto the walkway. Lily was waiting, her eyes so wide the moon caught white all around her irises.
Lancelot escorted them back down. She instructed the guard outside Guinevere’s rooms to take Lily and check all her rooms before standing watch outside. Then she knocked on Guinevere’s door. When Brangien opened it, her expression shifted from curiosity to fear. “What happened?”
Lancelot shook her head. “Go with Lily. Stay with her tonight.” She took Guinevere into Arthur’s room and made her sit down. Lancelot handed her a cup of wine and watched, waiting until Guinevere drank the whole thing.
“Who was he?” Lancelot asked. “I did not see his face.”
“Hild’s brother. Hild died. And it was my fault.”
Lancelot looked stricken at the news but also angry. “They took you. They were holding you ransom. What do you think they would have done if King Arthur had not paid? Any violence that happened was violence they brought on their own heads.”
“She did not deserve to die.” Guinevere was not even certain Hild’s brother deserved to, either. Maybe no one ever deserved to die. Was there any greater arrogance or evil in the world than deciding life and death was a choice that could be made by a single person?
“I am sorry Hild is dead, I am, but I will not see you suffer because her people decided they would rather kidnap and steal than work.”
The door burst open and Arthur entered like a summer storm, sudden and overwhelming. “We lost her.” He knelt by Guinevere’s chair, taking her hands. “Did she hurt you?”
It took Guinevere a few confused moments to realize he was talking about Morgana. Lancelot bowed and moved toward the door.