lit themselves to illuminate the way to the turret stairs. He was headed to a bedchamber on the uppermost floor. One that would guarantee this woman had no choice except to stay here until they killed her.
It was a room that was segregated in the northernmost tower where no one could hear her screams. Not that it would matter. There was none here, including he, who would ever render aid to another. It was merely a courtesy to the others that their ears wouldn't be abused by her wretched cries and pleas for mercy.
Like the rest of the castle, the room was decorated in black and gray. The only color in this land was found in Morgen's direct domain. The fey queen wanted nothing to detract from her beauty or her presence. So all color had been banished.
Kerrigan laid the woman down upon the black bed and pulled back the covers for her. She was pale and fragile against the darkness. Her long, straight hair was so fair as to be almost white.
To his surprise, she wasn't a beautiful woman. In truth, her features leaned toward plain, except for her eyes. A clear, crystal green, they were large and almond-shaped like a cat's. Her nose was of average shape and form, and her lips were full. Her body was undernourished and thin, with next to no feminine curves to cushion a man who might take her.
There was nothing remarkable about her. Nothing that marked her as the future mother of a Merlin.
She reminded him of a simple mouse.
And even unconscious, she still clung to the vibrant red cloth in her hands. He frowned at her actions, wondering why she bothered. He started to take it away from her, then paused for reasons unknown.
"You trusting fool," he snarled at her. He couldn't imagine ever reaching out his hand to someone for help.
And what had it gotten her? Nothing but her own doom.
A shadow slithered into the room from the keyhole of the door. "Mistress Morgen wants word with you, my lord."
"Tell her I will come in my own good time." It never boded well to keep her waiting. Morgen possessed a nasty temperament that was matched only by his own. But then Kerrigan refused to let anyone, even Morgen, command him.
Besides, there was nothing more the fey queen could do to him. He was already damned by his own actions, and no one, not even she, could kill him.
The sharoc, or shadow fey, continued to hover beside him as if it were trying to rush him.
"Leave me," Kerrigan snarled.
The sharoc retreated immediately.
Again alone with the unknown woman, Kerrigan found himself studying her curiously. She was unlike the women who lived here in Camelot. Granted they, due to their magic, were all beautiful to behold, but none of them possessed the spark that seemed to glow from within her.
Her skin appeared somehow softer, more appealing. Inviting.
You are being a fool. She is nothing but an insignificant mortal.
Aye. And she most certainly wasn't worth his time.
"Anir!" he called for his gargoyle servant.
The beast flew through the open window and hovered over the bed where the woman rested. Anir's stark yellow eyes glowed against his dark gray, stonelike skin. "Aye, my lord?"
"Guard her and let me know the instant she wakes."
The gargoyle nodded, then came to rest on the foot of the bed. He crouched there in a small, watchful pose, then hardened back into his true form of stone.
Kerrigan paused as he took one last look at the woman who beguiled him. He still didn't understand her appeal. Not that it mattered. The time she had left to live was extremely finite. Even if those at Avalon gave over the table he sought, she would still be killed.
She was to be the mother of a Merlin. That alone carried with it a death sentence.
"What do you mean she got away?"
Gawain cringed at Merlin's question. He looked to Agravain for some reprieve, but none was forthcoming.
"Lord Smooth," Agravain said snidely, "told her she was going to be the mother of the next Merlin, so she panicked and ran."
Merlin pressed her hand to her head as if she had a fierce ache above her brow. A tall, slender woman, Merlin was the epitome of beauty. She had long, golden hair that flowed around her lithe body, which was covered by a white gown trimmed in gold. Truly, there was no woman more fair.
Or more angry than she was at present.
She glared at them as a