Snippet #1489948

Why did you say those words? Henry thought as he stared at Morgana's dying, bleeding figure. Years ago, she had sworn to him that she would raise Lionel as her own. How well he remembered those days! She had lost her own son, and Lionel was only a few days old ... born in secret to a serving girl who had briefly been his mistress in the weeks before their marriage. It had seemed so perfect ... they were unsure if Morgana would carry another child, unsure if the secret of Lionel's birth could be concealed. It had seemed the perfect solution. And now it had ended with this chaos.

The world had narrowed. He made no move to follow or call after his eldest. Instead, he dropped to his knees before Morgana, his hands grasping for her own. There were tears in his eyes, but they would not fall. He would not let them. Could not.

"No," he said, his voice rough. "I command you not to."

She was with child, he realized. That was the reason for her knowing looks, her distant smiles, the way she had touched her abdomen in that strange, comforting way of late. Even were she to live, that child, their last child, was beyond his grasp.

How could Lionel have done this?

The rage, the politics - it would come later. For the moment, his heart was bleeding and dying, just as much as Morgana began to fade away from their world.

~

Jane did not laugh when the Winslers' bard turned her back, but Benjamin did: a full, hearty laugh, with his head thrown back and his shoulders in shakes.

That was not wise, she thought. One never turned their back one of royal blood, at least not without dismissal, especially not when that royal blood was in the veins of a Damian. She did not see the killing blow, but she heard the reaction, and looked up only to have her lady-in-waiting faint across her lap.

"Addie!" she hissed and shook the woman's shoulder.

"I will not have a bastard and a slut take the throne!"

"I said he was a bastard," Benjamin said, his voice eerie in the silence after those words.

"Addie, you must wake up," Jane whispered. "You're being a goose, fainting--"

He used the Queen as a shield. The whole collection of tables seemed to gasp as the sword plunged into Morgana's belly and Jane covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes wide and her lady-in-waiting (who then began to rouse) forgotten.

"Whore," Benjamin decreed, his voice low and ominous. "Let the pups suckle elsewhere."

Jane looked at him. "The youngest, the boy, is hardly more than a child."

"And mine were hardly more than babes when their mother was taken."

You bitter, stubborn old man, she thought. It was a common train of thought for Jane. Benjamin was dear to her, much like a second father, and she loved him - but she could not bear his unshakable opinions, his solid mindset.

"Where is your heart?"

"Dead. With my wife."

His eyes were like flint. "And I suppose our Houses should leave, lest we be slaughtered when the King makes his declaration of war. For you know he will, Lady Strake."

"War?" she cried. "For what reason?"

"Because I declare it. Because his son is a bastard and a murderer, because he murdered a bard of my House, because--"

"She turned her back!"

"Does that justify such a death? Are you doubting your loyalty to Winsler?"

"Reason, Jane," her father had said when she became frustrated. "Reason is the sister of Peace."

"I do not doubt," she said. "But I have no wish to be dragged into a pointless war. I've nine sisters to think of, my Lord, and none of them a warrior to defend---"

"Then marry and have a son," he said harshly. "You've hips built to bear a child."

Jane's fingers dug into the palms of her hands.

How easy it is for a man to speak those words.