With My Last Breath (Page 19)

Gwendolyn nodded. "Yes, please," she replied. "I don’t have anywhere else to go."

She dropped her head in shame and I lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her to meet my stare.

"That is not your fault, young one," I assured her. "You will be taken care of here.

Are you hungry?"

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She nodded, as did the other children around her. I motioned for a nearby house servant.

"Please get these children something to eat in the kitchens," I requested the girl.

"And then show them to a clean guestroom. I’ll check on them later."

She nodded and hurried away with them, leaving me to stare at my mother in bewilderment.

"What is going on?" I asked. "Why is she here? And in the same exact body as in the Spiritlands? There is not one thing different about her but her name. Her hair, her eyes, her voice is the same. And in the Spiritlands, I found her in a pile of rubble, also.

Here, she came to us with a group of orphans. There must be a correlation, but what?

You know that it must mean something. The Fates are using her for a reason."

My mother nodded, her eyes absent as she thought. "I know not," she finally admitted. "I will consult with your father when next I see him. Perhaps he can remember something that we can’t."

"Have you seen him this afternoon?" I asked suspiciously, but her eyes widened innocently.

"No, of course not," she replied quickly. Almost too quickly. "I’ve been in my rooms and the knights have been with Arthur. There has not been an opportunity. But I will make sure that I do tonight."

"Just use care," I cautioned her, my eyes suddenly drawn to Mordred, who was standing at a window above us. He was watching me with glittering eyes and an almost menacing expression before he turned away. "I feel as though we are being watched."

"Well, we probably are," she shrugged her shoulders. "You knew that this life wasn’t easy when you came here, Heleyne."

I nodded wordlessly, watching the hungry peasants assemble around the servants carrying large platters of warm bread for them. Dirty fingers reached to snag pieces of the fragrant prizes as the servants pushed through the teeming crowds.

There were so many of them, all homeless now, some of them orphans, some of them parents who had lost their children. Grief was everywhere around me and there was nothing I could do about it. And it wouldn’t be so hard to bear if it was simply a random act of violence. But the fact that Fate orchestrated all of these horrible things simply to entertain themselves while they ruled in Zeus’ rightful place made my blood boil.

"I feel weary of all of this," my mother whispered as we sank onto a nearby bench.

"All of the pain and suffering. It wears on me."

I reached over and grasped her hand.

"You read my mind," I agreed. "It is horrible. Life is not always fair, but with the Fates involved, it is never fair. And that is an atrocity."

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She nodded her head in agreement, watching the melee in front of us as peasants scrambled for food and items of clothing. We tucked our feet underneath of us so that we wouldn’t get stepped on in the chaos.

We sat that way for a good while before Arthur once again emerged from a side doorway of the castle. Scanning the crowd, he quickly found us and the sea of people parted to let him pass as he made his way to our side.

Bowing low, he took Guinevere’s hand from mine and kissed it gently, his blue eyes seeking out hers. In his, hesitation and fear lingered and I knew he was afraid that she had not forgiven him. I watched anxiously, waiting to see what she would do. Unable to bear the thought of Arthur’s pain, I almost squeezed my eyes shut so that I didn’t have to witness it.

But before I could, my mother stood and pressed her lips to Arthur’s. In surprise, his hands clasped at her back and then he pulled her into him for a deeper kiss. As the crowds around us cheered, I met my father’s dark stare from across the courtyard. He turned abruptly and stalked from the commons. I felt a twinge of guilt.

It must be hard for him to be here, to watch his beloved married to someone else.

Once again, we were stuck in a parody of the Fates’ choosing.

Guinevere finally pulled away, her cheeks flushed. Arthur kept her clenched to his side as he turned to face the crowd.

"In Camelot," he shouted. "There is always hope. And when there is hope, anything is possible!"

The crowd cheered once more and I clapped with them, happy to see the joy that was shining on so many faces. Arthur was truly a charismatic man, someone whose very presence could excite crowds, someone who people innately trusted.

But as I stood in appreciation of the atmosphere, a wave of nausea washed over me.

Intense heat flushed my cheeks and the courtyard began to spin. The sea of faces and noises blended into one another and before I knew it, I was on the ground with my cheek resting in the dirt.

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With My Last Breath, Book Three

Chapter Nine

My mother raced to my side and knelt next to me.

"Heleyne," she uttered as she rubbed my back. "What is it?"

I tried to open my eyes but every time I did, dizziness threatened to make me vomit. I moaned just slightly, but enough to cause my mother to panic.

"Heleyne! Are you in pain?" She looked into the crowd. "Someone send for the medicine woman!"

Before anyone could move, Lucan pushed through the throngs of people and scooped me into his arms. I gazed up at his handsome face for just a moment before I squeezed my eyes shut against the dizzying nausea.

"When you find her, send her to Heleyne’s rooms," he instructed my mother over his shoulder. His long steps made short work of the courtyard and before I knew it, we were entering the cool darkness of the castle.

Once out of the sun, I opened my eyes. Lucan was staring at me worriedly as he carried me down the halls toward my bedchambers.

"Are you alright?" he asked anxiously. "You’re very pale."

"I’m fine," I answered, although in truth, I felt horribly weak. My hands were shaking and I didn’t know why. "I feel better now. I think maybe I got too hot in the sun."

He glared down at me. "You shouldn’t tax yourself so much, woman."

"But it is nice to be rescued by a knight in shining armor," I quipped lightly.

Unfamiliar with the phrase, he scowled at me. "I’m not wearing armor."