Ride the Storm (Cassandra Palmer 8)

d the damn man in the first place. He wanted Gorlois’ forces intact, to help him take on the Saxons. Every death in that war was a loss to him, even the ones on the other side, and he was desperate to cut the fighting short before he destroyed his own army.”

“So you helped him find a workaround.”

“Igraine was the key to the fey alliance. Without her, the treaty would have to be renegotiated, probably on even worse terms than before. Thousands would suffer. But once she married Uther, well, he was not Gorlois. And not easily manipulated.”

“But why would she marry her rapist?”

Rosier shrugged. “To avoid dishonor. To maintain the alliance that was as useful to her people as it was to Uther’s. And to make his life a living hell, which, I may add, she did in spades thereafter.”

Good, I thought. And then I thought maybe. And then I decided that I didn’t know what to think. Igraine was a victim, but she’d also been an oppressor, running a trade that had destroyed thousands of lives. But Uther hadn’t been blameless, either. He’d been put in a terrible position, but he’d also done a terrible thing.

I was beginning to think that Rosier was right. The stories made it easy: here were the good guys, here were the bad guys. Root for this group, hate that one. But the truth . . . was a lot more complicated.

“And what did you get out of all this?” I asked. Because I knew Rosier. He might have genuinely sympathized with Uther, but there was no way he didn’t find a way to profit from it, too.

He didn’t even try to deny it. “I longed for peace and stability in my lands as much as Uther did in his, but it was impossible on my own. I expended power as soon as I received it, defending my people, keeping the nobles in line, quarreling with the damn high council—a thousand things. My father had no such concerns, because there were two of us, working together to stockpile power to keep the family strong. With another incubus of the royal line, I could do the same. Instead of a house constantly on the verge of disintegration, we could be powerful again, respected, even feared. I told Uther that we could help each other—”

“How?” I interrupted, because Rosier could talk on his favorite subject for hours.

“My attempts to have a child among my own kind had been futile. Our birth rate is so low it might have taken millennia to sire a child—if I ever did. I came to earth looking for a human mother, because their fertility is legendary. But my children were too strong; they overwhelmed the women before they could give birth. So I tried the fey, hoping their strength would do the trick. But they damn well never get pregnant! I finally realized that a cross between the two, part human to aid with fertility, and part fey for resilience, might be the perfect combination—”

“So you came here looking for a broodmare.”

“And I found one. I found the perfect one.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Igraine?”

“No, not Igraine! Do you read at all?”

“Who, then?”

“Who do all the legends say was Merlin’s great love?”

“Merlin? But you’re not— Wait. Wait. Merlin helped Uther at Tintagel Castle. Merlin was the one who cast that illusion. The stories all say so, but Pritkin wasn’t even born then—”

“No, but Myrddin was the name I was going by at the time, which was later Latinized to—”

“That’s why all the legends say he aged backward!” I stared at him. “There were two of you!”

“Well, of course there were.” Rosier sounded like that should have been obvious. “The stories became confused because I named him after me. I was too angry with his mother at the time to use the name she’d chosen, and—”

“And you look alike,” I said as things finally fell into place.

“He received his good looks from me,” Rosier agreed smugly. “Although I was hiding them somewhat at the time, to look less like a lusty rival and more like a valued counselor—”

“Rival for who? Rosier, who the hell did Uther promise you?”

He looked at me sardonically. “Who do you think? Who in the Arthurian legends is the only person to have the name le fey?”

Chapter Seventeen

“Morgana?”

“Igraine’s daughter with Gorlois,” Rosier agreed. “They had three, but she was the only one to inherit her mother’s abilities, hence the sobriquet.”

“But . . . Morgana?”

“Morgaine, in fact. Her name was also Latinized in the later—”