Guinevere's Grail | ✓ [BOOK 2]

~ 46 ~

WHEN NAMYRA WOKE, HER head was screaming in pain, much like the rest of her body. Titania's wave had knocked her into a fountain, and the shattered rock now pinned her down in the water, which rinsed her clean of blood and dirt. She groaned as she hefted the marble off so she could sit up, and every part of her throbbed when she finally made it to her feet.

She was lucky enough to be knocked unconscious when the rest of the Seelies grieved their oppressive Queen, and though she'd dodged the pain, she could still feel her absence. She didn't know how heavy her presence was until it was gone, replaced by a younger energy, more masculine, sad but not angry as Titania's had been.

She tiptoed over the piles of bodies littering the stone steps, looking up at the crumbled palace. It was a strong building, not broken beyond repair, but it would take many hands and a lot of time to get it back to its previous glory.

The doors groaned and creaked when Namyra pushed them open in pursuit of the nearest living person she could feel. The floors were covered in broken plaster and dust, more things she had to step around in her search. She could feel the faint tug of life pulling her in the direction of the ballroom, and when she slipped through the doors, she froze in her tracks.

She hardly recognized Morgana, though he looked more familiar to her with his white hair pulled back into a loose updo than he ever did with black, streaked locks that made him look like a true Unseelie. With his light hair and his sharp, glistening wings, ripped and ragged as they were, she could at least pretend they would get along.

He was sitting on the throne, rigid and bothered, with something on his mind that formed a crease between his brow. He didn't even notice Namyra there until she cleared her throat and his head shot up, startled.

"Your Highness," he greeted bitterly.

"You can call me Namyra," she gritted. "Since I'm assuming you've ascended. You're above me now." The words caught on their way out. "Your Majesty."

He grimaced and waved his hand. "No, not yet," he murmured. "No one else knows. Mab wants me to have a coronation. Until then I'm just... waiting."

"How come you get to be King?" she asked, looking him up and down. "You're not Seelie."

"Half Seelie, apparently, and I'll be Queen," he corrected, resting his face on his fist. "I guess that matters. Mab is the only one alive who remembers the last time this happened, save for the Gods, and it's all so confusing. I wish that stupid Grail didn't choose me."

"'Grail?'" Namyra echoed.

"The Holy Grail," said Morgana. "Apparently, when Chalice made their wish, it chose the nearest child of Titania to take up the throne when she died. That way, you all didn't have to go with her when she did, because you had something else to attach to." His nose curled up at the thought of it. "I hate it just as much as you do."

"I don't hate it, I just... it's strange. It's confusing. I didn't think it'd be you of all people."

"I'm going to find someone else," Morgana told her. "I haven't said that to the others, but I figure you deserve to know. Once I'm coronated, I'm going to search for all of Titania's other children and find one that would be better at this than me. I can already feel how much the people will hate me. I'm not one of them, and I have no hope to be."

He was right. If the Seelies found out their ruler was a half-breed man, they'd riot. They'd feel they were being taken over by the Unseelies, especially if they knew Mab was his advisor. She hadn't stopped to think about how weird this all was, she didn't even feel surprised when she saw him on the throne. Her whole world was already shifted now that Titania was dead, and perhaps the nature of the Queen was easing her into it.