Guinevere's Grail | ✓ [BOOK 2]

~ 1 ~

THE VILLAGE OF FELLS was beginning to feel like home. Kristofer understood why Chalice loved it like they did. It was no easy place to live, their food was limited to the fish in the lake, the animals that passed through, and the small gardens they grew. The buildings were barely hanging on purely by the fierce will of magic, and their homes were small and crowded with beds as hard as stone.

But it was beautiful. The green water and the rolling hills, the low cliffs and the mossy gray stone, and the thick woods shielding them from the rest of Avalon, surrounded Kit in a peaceful, earthy haven.

He found joy in the people, as well. Chalice's friend, Cian, was a kind man. And wise, too. He taught Kit things when there was a moment to learn, told him stories and legends and things he never would've learned at the castle he grew up in.

The druids were a peaceful, generous people, happy to share their space with Kit and his friends, even when they had so little resources. They kept Lionel entertained and helped him explore his power, and kept Morgana alive with prayers and spells and medicine only they knew how to make.

Morgana was getting better by the day. It helped to have Astyr there, healing him with Sídhe methods, doing everything she could to get him better. The color was returning to his lips, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were fading back to their normal shade. Morgana never looked fully healthy, but he was looking more like normal.

"We would have him awake by now," Astyr explained. "If it was Excalibur, though, wielded by a descendent of Arthur, the power of Connor's will is keeping him from waking up. I need something to overpower that."

"Any ideas?" Kit asked, leaning against the doorframe, eyes scanning over the Unseelie's body. He was better clothed now, but the tunic he was dressed in still allowed for access to the wound.

Astyr's eyes were sad. "I have no idea. I mean, if your son knew how, perhaps he could try, but one shard against the other six would be a tough battle, even with his natural magic."

He looked at his feet. It was getting hard not to cry nowadays, and even now, he pressed his palms to his glassy eyes to keep anything from slipping out. He wished he could say this was his fault, take responsibility for it all, because at least then he'd have someone to punish for it. But it wasn't all his fault, and he hated it.

"I'm heading to bed, " Astyr told him, standing up from her chair. "You should, too."

She ruffled his hair and he smiled up at her, but it was a sad smile. "I will, I promise," he told her. "I'm just gonna keep an eye on him for a bit."

Her brown eyes were sympathetic when they settled on him. "He'll be okay, Kit."

"I know, it'll just help me feel better."

She squeezed his hand and left, leaving Kit alone at Morgana's bedside.

His wrists were chained to the bed, but there was enough slack for Kit to take one of his hands, pressing their palms together and lacing his sturdy, callused fingers through Morgana's long, thin ones.

They were so different in every way. He looked at Morgana and saw the moon, pale and beautiful, casting a gentle glow, pulling at his heart like the waves of the sea, endlessly reaching out but never quite getting to him no matter how he longed to.

Kit was the sun, bright and golden and impossibly hard to miss. He didn't think himself sunny like Giselle, he wasn't bright or happy and he didn't much light up the room. But he was fiery, hotheaded and angry. Something about Morgana was steady and cool, keeping Kit's fire at bay just as much as he fueled it.

"Come on," he whispered, eyes desperate on Morgana's face. He squeezed his hand tighter and tried again. "Come on, Morgana, take it. Please."

Kit had no idea how to give his strength, not when Morgana wasn't there to take it from him. He tried every day, but nothing ever worked. Either Morgana was too spent to even take it, or he didn't want it. But Kit didn't give up.