Even though I knew well how ruthless Viviane could be, that she would use Morgaine as ruthlessly as she used me, for the well-being of this land and for her own love of power, Igraine whispered. It seemed to Gwenhwyfar that he was blinking back tears, and she liked him better for it. She did not want to die, and there was no hope she could bear this child and live. It is the Queen of Lothian, called Cormac, and Lancelet rode toward them, halting his horse before her.
She looked at the berries, dew-fresh in a wooden bowl. What is that shadow, Aunt? Nimue whispered, as the oars shoved out from shore. Morgaine thought, Gwenhwyfar is younger than I, and I might still bear a child if I had not been so damaged in Gwydion's birth. Yet I know from the distance we have ridden this day that we must be near to Camelot-unless you have somehow lost your way in the
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