Guinevere's Grail | ✓ [BOOK 2]

~ 3 ~

"Yeah. It's kind of cold, too, don't you think? I only remember warm rains here."

"We've only been here a week," said Eurion. "Maybe cold rain is common."

Kit didn't think much of it and left it at that, turning his head back to Giselle and Morgana. They were still standing there, and while Morgana's hair was damp with the rain, Giselle's repelled the water.

"I wish I knew more about them," Eurion thought aloud. "Their story is interesting, I'm sure. I wonder what makes her trust him so much."

They seemed so different. Giselle was a dreamy, careful, diplomatic princess. Her countenance was bright, and her beauty enchanted everyone who saw her. Morgana was angry. His morals were unclear, even to himself, and despite his rigidness and cold logic, there was a chaos to him. Giselle was everything he was not.

But they worked. They worked so well, and they brought out the better in each other. There had to be something significant to give them a bond like that.

"Kit."

Kit turned his head, breaking away from his thoughtful trance to rest his eyes on Eurion. "Sorry. I was just... you got me thinking."

"Do you think she'll free him?" she asked.

"I have no idea."

After awhile, the faeries made their way back from the beach, likely seeking shelter from the rain.

"You should talk to him," Eurion crowed, nudging his arm.

"What, right now?"

"Now or never, Kit," she said. "You need your answer, I can tell it's driving you crazy."

He gulped, glancing back at Morgana and Giselle, who were getting ever closer.

"Fine. Okay."

Eurion gave him an encouraging shove, mouthing a 'good luck' to him, before he stepped in front of them. It took him a moment to build up the confidence.

"I need to talk to Morgana," he said to Giselle. "Alone."

To his surprise, Morgana didn't protest. Giselle gave him a wary look, but he did his best to look reassuring.

"Don't be an ass," she warned.

"I'll try not to be," he told her, and followed her with his eyes as she walked away.

Morgana sounded bothered. "What do you want?"

This was where Kit froze. How the hell was he supposed to ask this? He was bad at words, to the surprise of no one, and he hated it like nothing else.

"I just need... to know something. It's not that important, but it's driving me crazy, and--"

"Is this about the kiss?"

Kit opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, he heard an unmistakable call in the distance, one that rattled his bones with dread. Without a word, he took Morgana's arm and pulled him behind the nearest building, holding the faery to his chest and clamping a hand to his mouth.

Morgana bit his palm and squirmed against his hold.

"Stop," he hissed. "Stop. They're Connor's knights, they're looking for us."

Morgana pulled his head from Kit's hold, freeing his mouth. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

"You killed Wylan, they'll probably execute you the moment they find you," he whispered. "Not that it would work, you're like a cockroach. You can't seem to die."