Chapter Twelve
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Don’t miss opportunities, time doesn’t come round again.
“You’re winning too easily. You’re drawing too much attention.”
Rui sat once more in the tent she shared with Ere and Sorin, polishing her sword after the afternoon matches.
Her blade never drew blood, so this made cleaning it easier. She hadn’t needed to slash through skin and stab into flesh. Her large, heavy, lumbering, armored opponents moved so slowly, they were like unintelligent boulders waiting for her to crush with just the right pressure at the right point.
She’d won all of her matches in less than seven moves. Except for the one against a man called Gawain. His skill and strength exceeded the others by far, but even then, he was down in the dirt in less than two minutes.
“Isn’t that the point?” she retorted, not looking at Ere, still focusing on her sword. “Winning the tournament as quickly as possible.”
“Obtaining the prize is certainly the point,” Ere agreed. “But when you win with such speed and flair, your enemies will single you out and plot your downfall. I didn’t like the gleam in Guinevere’s eyes as she watched the proceedings. Gawain is one of her best warriors. His easy defeat has made you a target.”
“I am not here to put on a show and pretend I am less than I am,” Rui said, her lip curling with disdain.
Ere sighed heavily. She got the sense that he was frustrated with her, though she didn’t understand why.
“Rui,” he said with gravity, “there are forces and schemes at work that put you in danger. I have not gathered enough intelligence to definitively deduce what Guinevere’s motives are, but I would bet my entire Celine Dion record collection that she intends for her squad to win the Dragon’s Eye. That squad includes Gawain, Modred and Lancelot.”
“Why doesn’t she just demand the jewel?” Rui asked. “She’s the queen.”
“Because it isn’t hers. It’s Morgan Le Fay’s. And from everything I’ve gleaned, Morgan didn’t offer it up by choice. This whole tournament is a ruse to take it away from Morgan by force.”
Ere rubbed his smooth jaw in contemplation.
Even in his human form, it seemed he retained some immortal physical traits, including the hairlessness of his skin. Rui was the same. But Sorin was different. He grew beards and sported chest hair that Rui could see over the neckline of his tunic.
“Perhaps there’s more,” Ere continued to speculate. “Perhaps the transition of ownership of the Dragon’s Eye needs to be officialized, else Guinevere cannot fully control it.”
“You assume it is imbued with magical power,” Rui read between the lines.
Ere nodded.
“I’ve heard many tales over the course of today’s investigations that Morgan Le Fay’s power is tied to the Dragon’s Eye. That’s why Guinevere wants it. These are all rumors, of course, but some say the Eye gives its owner the ability to remain young, to heal rapidly, to see events that haven’t occurred, to control the actions of others.”
Rui frowned at that disturbing list. If the Dragon’s Eye was truly its namesake, then the dragon who was missing the eye must be formidable indeed.
“It could be any of these powers, or none, or more. But I’m certain of at least one thing: The Eye is powerful and will grant its wielder access to those powers.”
“If so, then this Morgan must be very powerful as its current holder,” Rui argued. “How did Guinevere convince her to put the Eye up for competition in the first place?”
Ere narrowed his eyes at that.
“The queen seems to have her own power, though it is ‘unnatural’ to me. There’s something…off about it.”
“Stinks,” Sorin put in.
Ere glanced at his Mate with a lopsided smile.
“Ever eloquent, my love,” he murmured.
“And always right. Yes, there is a distinct metaphorical stench about Guinevere. The sort that we can sense as natural creatures of magic around a human who is trying to manipulate the world artificially through witchery or malfeasance.”
“You think Guinevere is somehow controlling or forcing Morgan to offer the Eye,” Rui concluded.