CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN #2
"I don’t know what to think. I want to trust you, but I don't know if I can.
" It was the truth. I turned to face her as she circled me, not wanting to show any sign of weakness.
Now that I knew her true identity, I had some figuring out to do because this wasn't just a matter of whether she was an ally or a foe.
It wasn't about whether I could trust her.
She was Morgan le Fay—that alone meant I couldn't trust her.
"You should never trust anyone, especially here, in Camelot."
Her steps were unhurried, confident. Her gaze didn’t leer like Kay’s—it assessed, appraised. My heart pounded anyway.
"I make you nervous," she continued.
"Yes."
She was behind me now, but I could still feel her eyes on me. My breath came faster. Unlike Kay’s presence, which had filled me with revulsion, Morgan’s was different—no less dangerous, but somehow compelling.
"You are worried I will touch you again? Taste you again?"
I breathed in deeply but then nodded—there was no use in pretending. She would read through a lie as easily as reading a book. "Yes."
She laughed. "You're mostly worried you'll… enjoy it again."
I didn't respond to that. She continued to watch me, and I felt like a field mouse to her owl.
"Your carnal feelings toward Lancelot are safer ground."
I swallowed hard. "Yes."
"And you even prefer your desire for Arthur to your desire for me."
I breathed in deeply. "I don't know that I would categorize my feelings toward you as desire."
She stopped walking around me and studied me for a moment. "No?"
"I… I don't know." I looked up at her then, deciding I needed to solve at least one mystery regarding this woman. "When you lay with Lancelot as Elenora…"
"You mean when Lance fucked me?"
I swallowed down the instant jealousy that visited me and just nodded. "Did you…"
"Did I enjoy it?" She raised a single brow at me and then just stood there studying me. "Of course, I enjoyed it. He's a gifted lover with a perfect cock. And he's easily the most beautiful man in Camelot. Why wouldn't I have enjoyed it?"
I immediately regretted asking her. "That is not why I asked."
She smiled, wide and knowing. "You are worried I might only prefer women?"
I nodded. "Not worried. Just curious."
"No, Guinevere, my carnal desires extend to more than just your quim." She smiled again and took a step closer to me. "Though I will admit, I did love the taste of you."
She reached out then and brought her fingers to my chest, just above my heart. I didn't step back or push her away. I just stood there, watching her watching me.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” Her voice curled around me like smoke.
"Feel what?"
“The power inside you. Untapped. Surviving. Waiting.”
She twirled her fingers into my hair, wrapping a tendril around them.
“Such potential," she continued. “You could be so much more than Merlin’s pawn or Arthur’s downfall.”
“What do you mean?”
Morgan was now facing me, and she stepped closer until only an inch or so separated us, shadows flaring around us as she leaned in and whispered, “What if I told you I could help you unlock your true abilities?”
I stood frozen, heart pounding in my chest as Morgan leaned closer still, her eyes glinting with a dangerous light.
Before I could process her words or the power emanating from her presence, she reached out and gently tugged the sheet from my grip.
It slipped through my fingers, falling to the floor in a soft whisper.
The cool air prickled against my bare skin as I stood before her completely naked, and I felt exposed—raw and vulnerable—yet somehow electrified. A strange power hummed between us, making my heart race and my breath shallow. Morgan's gaze dropped, tracing the contours of my body.
"You desire me." Her words were a whisper as she looked up at me.
"No." I answered too quickly and realized my response wasn't actually true. "I don't… understand what's…" Confusion swirled in my mind; I'd always been drawn to men, yet now I found myself yearning for her touch in ways I couldn't explain or deny.
"Such beauty." Her voice was rich with temptation, each syllable dripping like honey in the dim light. "You've hidden yourself so well beneath armor and illusion, but this—" she gestured to my exposed form, "—this is your true power."
She reached out then and traced the curve of my left breast with her index finger.
She moved with deliberate slowness, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake before lingering on my nipple until it hardened beneath her touch.
The contact sent sparks of sensation radiating outward, making my knees weaken and my breath catch.
Her touch was so different from Kay's. Where his was dominating, meant to possess and control, hers was soft, delicate, exploratory, and awed.
I stood transfixed, unable to move as conflicting emotions warred within me—shame at my nakedness, fear of my own unexpected response to this woman, and a hunger I'd only felt for Lance and Arthur. Morgan's eyes held mine captive.
"I could promise you pleasure you've never dared to imagine."
"You're trying to seduce me, to keep me from asking questions."
She shook her head. "No."
"Then—"
"—I simply want to taste you again."
She came closer, and I reached out, pushing my palm against her to keep her at arm's length.
"Why help me?" I asked directly, wanting to focus on anything but the effect she was having on me.
"If you've known my identity all this time, you could have exposed me—or used the knowledge for leverage weeks ago. "
"I didn't save you from Kay merely out of kindness, though his actions disgust me." Her voice was like velvet. "I saved you because you and I share a unique position in this conflict—a position few others could possibly understand."
I struggled to maintain my composure, acutely aware of how exposed I stood before her. The cool air of the chamber raised gooseflesh across my naked body, something she noticed as she reached out and ran her fingers down the numerous bumps covering my arm.
"What position is that?" I managed to ask, my voice embarrassingly breathless.
"We are both pawns in a game between powerful men. Pieces to be moved, sacrificed, or captured according to their design. Tools in a war neither of us started, yet both of us must survive." She paused. "Do you wish to be a pawn?"
"No."
She nodded and trailed her fingers up my arm, to my collarbone, and down to my breasts. I didn't stop her.
"The quarrel between Merlin and Arthur began as principle but has devolved into something far uglier—pride and vengeance dressed as righteousness.
" Her voice was steady as she brought her face so close to mine that I could feel her breath against my cheek, warm and scented with something I couldn't place.
"Arthur fears magic he cannot control; Merlin resents authority he didn't create. Both men claim to fight for a better world, yet both destroy what stands in their way." Her emerald eyes held mine captive. "They're more alike than either would ever admit."
When she brought her lips to mine, I didn't fight her. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if she were testing my resolve or perhaps her own. But when I didn't pull away, when my body betrayed me by leaning into her touch, her mouth became more insistent.
My hands found their way to her raven hair almost without conscious thought, fingers threading through the silken strands.
She tasted of secrets, of power barely restrained, and dangers I couldn't yet name.
The kiss deepened, and I felt her tongue in my mouth.
Something inside me awakened—not just desire, though that was certainly there, but a recognition of sorts.
As if some part of me had been waiting for this moment, this connection with someone who understood the dangers I faced because she faced them too.
I managed to pull away from her. "And where do I fit into this game?"
Morgan leaned forward, her gaze locked with mine. "You are Merlin's most valuable piece—his knight on the board. His daughter."
I couldn't help the surprise that ricocheted through me. "You know?"
She smiled slyly. "As I told you, I am in the business of knowing." Then she paused. "Merlin sent you to infiltrate Arthur's inner circle. Yet you're more powerful than even he realizes."
"And what piece of this puzzle are you?"
"The piece I play is ever-evolving." Her smile twisted, bitter as winter. "What I will tell you, however, is that I was once Arthur's betrothed."
Morgan must have seen my confusion written across my face because she continued.
"Arthur and I were betrothed briefly when he first took the throne.
A political match arranged by his advisors to strengthen his claim through my royal blood.
But I saw the path he was choosing—his growing fear of magic, his need to control rather than collaborate.
I refused the match, choosing exile over a crown that would have made me complicit in his suppression of our kind. "
"Then you've known all along that Arthur would change from the idealistic young man he once was—you knew what would happen."
She began pacing the small room, her movements fluid, beautiful. "Of course—I’m a seer."
"As well as a dreamwalker?"
She nodded.
And then I remembered something. "If you are able to walk in dreams, and mine specifically, why did you give me the talisman that protected against exactly that?"
She smiled as if she were pleased I'd remembered. "Because I'm not the only one." I frowned, and she continued. "There is one other dreamwalker among us, here in Camelot."
"Then the talisman was meant to ward him away from my dreams?"
"It was."
"Who is he?"
"His name is Vaelen—he's a dreamwalker and a shapeshifter, and he's also a figurehead for the Northern Rebellion."
"I have not met him."
Morgan shook her head. "No, you would not have, as no one knows he's here, with the exception of me, of course."