Guinevere's Grail | ✓ [BOOK 2]

~ 43 ~

THE MOMENT HE SAW Titania vanish with the boy in her arms, Morgana snuck into the palace after her. He had no mind to tell the others, he'd let them figure it out on their own. Namyra wasn't at her best, he had no doubts she would lose. He thought nothing more of it as he slipped through a window, tiptoeing behind Titania, his thick cloak brushing against the ground behind him.

He thought he was being quiet as he followed her into a large bedroom, wrangling the screaming boy into a closet and locking it with a vicious growl. "Shut up, you little BRAT!" she screeched, and smacked the wood of the doors for good measure. To Morgana's horror, Lionel's screaming ceased with a quiet, strangled sound, and he heard a thud against the wood.

Unfortunately, Titania didn't leave. He stayed rooted in his place, focusing on his glamour in hopes she wouldn't notice him there so easily. He'd be a fool to think it would've actually worked, but a man could hope for at least a moment of borrowed time. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as she got closer to the doorway he cowered behind, head tilted in feigned curiosity.

"I know you're there," she said, creeping around the corner. Morgana pressed his back to the wall, reaching for a knife as he strained his glamour, waiting until the last second. When Titania was halfway out the door and inches from him, and he finally dropped the magic, pressing the blade to her throat and pushing her out of the room, shoving her against the wall on the other side of the corridor.

She made no effort to move, just laughed against him. In a sudden move, she slid her own neck across the surface until blood bubbled from the cut and slowly faded away as she healed herself. Morgana wasn't so lucky. There was no trace of blood, but his coughs were wet and he clutched his throat, stumbling back from her. His head was spinning.

"You thought that was very clever, didn't you?" she mused, giving him a toothy grin. "Fine, seven out of ten, I'll give you that much. Maybe you should go straight for the kill next time." Her eyes widened briefly with the last word, and Morgana felt his stomach churn.

The Unseelie coughed, but the sharp pain in his throat subsided, and he caught his breath against the wall, blade drawn. "What do you want?"

"The sword, have you been listening?"

"Why do you want it?" he asked. "It's a mediocre weapon at best. There are better ways to take out your enemies."

Titania crossed the hall, but he was already too low on energy to fight her as she gripped his metal hand, holding it up for him to see. "I tried them, Morgana. I tried the greatest weapon of all. But it would never kill my biggest nemesis, only a few pests along the way."

Morgana's eyes turned into dinner plates when he realized what she was saying. His mind recalled the stinging pain in his wrist when Connor cut his hand clean off, how he hadn't been able to work his karma like he wanted to. It was his left hand, the side of his body that'd been most ravaged by his strange childhood illness, a case no one had ever seen before.

Of course. It was a perfect plan, if she had every intention of clearing her kingdom of all its people. Was she trying to weaken Mab? She mentioned her greatest nemesis. Of course a disease wouldn't be enough to take out a Grand Queen. They were immortal, the most pure of the Sídhe, the last remaining from when they were feral, unruly, wild and uncivilized.

But why would she risk her own people? He recalled something Mab said a long time ago, but he shook his head. It didn't make sense.

"Why do you hate her so bad?" he asked her, feigning sympathy.

The tough façade cracked only for a moment, dew gracing her eyelashes just long enough for him to catch a glimpse of weakness. "Because she is the reason why this is happening. She is the reason why we cannot be who we were meant to be. She's turning the Sídhe into humans every day, stripping them of everything that makes them beautiful. We have to start over."