Free THE CURSE OF EXCALIBUR: a gripping Arthurian fantasy (THE MORGAN TRILOGY Book 2) by Lavinia Collins Page B

their cups together, except Kay, whose eyes I felt on me. He had not been sat far from her. He must have felt the Otherworld, too. When I caught his eye, he stood from his seat to come and stand behind Morgawse and me. He gave a sly smile.
    “What do you think of our new Queen?” he asked, archly. He had obviously drunk enough that he had forgotten to be nervous and awkward around me.
    Morgawse, beside me, shrugged, and the wine that filled her cup sloshed out the side a little. With my eyes on the Queen’s cup, I had not noticed that my own sister’s cup had been filled and emptied many times, too. I supposed that this could not have been easy for her.
    “She seems angry,” Morgawse said, slurring slightly.
    I turned over my shoulder to look up at Kay. He was gazing off where Arthur had gone. I had hoped to find him sharp and alert as always, but either he was drunk or even he as well was picturing himself with his brother’s new wife.
    “And well she might be,” Kay answered, thoughtfully. “When we picked her up at Dover yesterday, Arthur was with us, but he didn’t reveal himself to her. He told me it was because he wanted to be sure she had Queen Maev’s Otherworld blood in her. I think he just wanted to check she wasn’t ugly. Well... I think she’s even more lovely than Arthur hoped. Beautiful.” Kay’s tone was odd, worried. Morgawse, beside me, hiccupped. Kay put a gentle hand on the top of her head, a gesture of comfort.
    “Poor Gawse,” he said, softly, and she turned to give him a bleary smile.
    Uriens beside me, whom I had been doing my best to ignore all evening, leaned over to join the conversation. He stank of ale and I could see from the lack of focus in his ugly, dull old eyes that he was drunk as the rest of them. I hoped he would continue drinking, and be too drunk to stop me slipping away to sleep side by side with Morgawse.
    “You know, they say that red-headed women like her,” he jabbed his finger clumsily off after where Arthur had gone, “and your sister Morgawse here…” He jabbed his finger in her direction, narrowly missing catching me in the face. “They say that red-headed women love to be fucked by a man.”
    “ Be quiet , Uriens,” I hissed at him. People were looking already, but he carried on, droning with all the loud, drunk crassness he could muster.
    “I bet that Breton girl squirms like an eel when Arthur fucks her tonight. Oh, of course she looks angry, but it’s the angry ones that want it, really. Except Morgan, of course. You’re always angry, aren’t you? And you never want to be fucked. Funny, isn’t it, how the King fucks all the best women, and leaves me with you ? You’re hard and dry as an old twig, aren’t you Morgan?” I refused to look at him, gazing off across the table at my mother whose face was turned away, and who was making polite conversation with Ector beside her, but who I could tell was listening. She should have come over and silenced Uriens. She was still a queen. Uriens had leaned across me to leer at Morgawse now. “All you red women love the feel of a man, don’t you?”
    Beside his mother, Gawain banged his fist on the table and made to stand; the only thing stilling him was his brother Aggravain’s hand on his arm. I was sorry for it. I had hoped that Gawain would strike Uriens. Gawain was strong enough to kill him, I thought, with a well-judged single blow to the head. I would have been grateful for that.
    Aggravain spoke, low and threatening, not lifting his hand from his brother’s arm, and the harsh, cold sound of his voice seemed to sober Uriens a little. “Be careful what you say, Uriens. Our mother is your sister by marriage now, so any shame you say to her is shame upon yourself. Besides, do not think because our father is dead that Lothian has lost its strength, and will not crush those who dishonour Lot’s blood. You are drunk, sir, and have been foolish. But remember this: the next time you insult the sons of