“Indeed. Beneath the hill there was a lair. It belonged to another dragon who had occupied these lands before the coming of the Romans. A white dragon. As long as it was there, Vortigern could not settle. He would never become the true king, according to the prophesy. The same applied to Uther, once his older brother Ambrosius was killed. But Uther had an idea. He devised a scheme to fight dragon with dragon. And he knew just the dragon to do the job—Merlin.”
“History, myths and legends had it all wrong,” Ere murmured again.
Wolfe looked to the man.
He could tell that Ere’s mind was streaking like a comet. What was he thinking? What history? They were living in the present.
Weren’t they?
“Uther tried to convince the dragon Merlin to do his bidding and defeat the white dragon beneath the prophesized hill. He tried to bribe Merlin with treasure, he coaxed and threatened. But Merlin merely told him to—”
“Fuck off,” Sorin supplied succinctly.
“Indeed,” Morgan acknowledged, her lips quirking at one corner.
“Nevertheless, Uther had captured Merlin’s curiosity. It had been ages since he’d had aught to do with men. He wanted to see how the world had changed. So, one day, when Uther held a celebration at his castle for all of the surrounding chieftains to attend, Merlin attended as well, under the guise of one of the warlords.”
“Gorlois,” Rui whispered.
“How did you know?” both Morgan and Ere said at the same time.
Wolfe looked to her as well.
How could she possibly come up with a name in Morgan’s tale? She was a foreigner in these lands. She seemed to know nothing about this place, his culture. And yet she spoke a name that was obviously significant.
Who the hell was she?
Rui shook her head swiftly, indicating that she didn’t want to explain. Her frantic gaze urged Morgan to continue with the story.
“Aye,” Morgan confirmed. “Merlin took Gorlois’ form to attend the festivities. One of Uther’s consorts was also present. A woman called Igraine.”
Wolfe inhaled sharply, swaying on his feet.
He felt as if his chest had been speared with a lance. What did hismotherhave to do with this?
Morgan held his gaze as she spoke, her eyes wide and unblinking. Hypnotic in their intensity.
“Igraine was a beautiful woman. She was Uther’s favorite. He even married her, some say, though there’s no proof of it. But whatever they had together, he never sired a son on her. Only a daughter. Me.”
Wolfe’s eyes blazed as he stared at the red-haired witch.
How could it possibly be? Morgan was his half-sister?
She nodded, as if he’d asked the question out loud.
“We share a mother, aye. And there’s more.”
More?!
He didn’t know how much more he could take this night!
“What Uther wanted was a son. He needed an heir. Wrestling rule away from Vortigern, fighting back the invaders, and subduing civil unrest were dangerous tasks, mortally dangerous, he knew. He couldn’t do it alone. He might not even be able to do it in his lifetime. He needed apowerfulheir. First among warriors. He saw how the dragon looked upon the Lady Igraine. He saw his chance.”
“Holy shit,” Ere breathed.
Wolfe was not familiar with that invective, but he went with it. It was uttered with enough vehemence to convey his own emotions at hearing this.
“Uther bargained with Merlin that the dragon could have Igraine for a night if Uther could keep the offspring if the union bore fruit. Specifically, if the liaison produced a son. Merlin cared naught for mortal affairs. He simply wanted the woman. He agreed.”