Free The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2) by C.M. Gray Page B

tribal lands. Yet, for the most part during Uther's reign, the tribes had managed to slow and often halt the spread of Saxon rule. They had managed to keep the western part of their lands free of settlers and Arthur still had a Kingdom.
    'You are smiling. When I was called to attend you, I thought I might arrive to find you dying, not smiling. You look as though you just kissed the Beltane Queen.'
    Uther surfaced from his thoughts and slowly managed to part his eyelids. Morgana was sitting close to his side, wringing out a wet cloth. She must have just wiped his face, but he hadn't felt it.
    'Welcome back to the land of man, you have slept for quite some time. I have sent your puppy, Maude, out on an errand. She fusses over you while you sleep and has been spending far too much time in here getting in the way of my nuns, but she will be upset that she was not here when you finally awoke. Where have you been, where have your dreams taken you while you have been away from us, Uther?'
    Uther's head was swimming, and his head was pounding. 'I was…' his voice felt weak in his raw, dry throat. 'I was… thinking about Arthur. Thinking… thinking how, despite everything, that he might still have a Kingdom after all this is done. That maybe it wasn't just another battle that will mean nothing, the same as so many of the others seem to have been for nothing when we cast our minds back. I was daring to think that this time, we might possibly have done as Merlyn proclaimed and stopped the spread of Saxon rule, stopped their settlers long enough to…' a fit of coughing took him and pain lanced up his side and pounded in his head as his wounds came back to remind him of their presence.'
    'Rest Uther. I have faith that you will heal with our help, but I am a great believer in sleep to aid in that healing. If your body tells you to rest, then do as it asks and sleep. Here, drink this.' She gently lifted his head and held a clay cup against his lips. It was warm and aromatic with the smell of summer pastures and warm, soft hay. He looked up at her as he sipped feeling the warmth spread through his body as it slipped down his throat.
    'This is a herbal infusion of my own making,' said Morgana smiling down at him. 'It is a blend of camomile and feverfew to bring you rest, some mint and yarrow to aid in the healing of your wounds and the essence of a few other plants to help loosen the secrets from your mind. Rest and sleep will assist in the healing of your body. However, we must also place no little concern for the healing of your mind and of your soul, and for this we must talk. You will tell me the truth of your life so that we can unravel the mysteries and make you whole, both within this life and also in the eyes of our Lord. You are going to say of how you first met my mother, the truth of what transpired and why she would never tell me what truly happened to my father. This shall be your real healing, Uther, and I shall be your confessor so that you may heal without any guilt upon your soul… are you, perhaps, ready to bear your testimony?'
    Uther Pendragon gazed up into the stern black eyes of Morgana and tried to order his thoughts. It felt strange that he would tell all to Morgana le Fey, yet strangely he also felt somewhat compelled. She tilted his head, and he drank a little more of the brew. It continued to warm him, seeping down inside him to send a glow out through his body, and felt good. He glanced up into her kindly face and felt a growing urge to explain everything, all his thoughts and dreams, his schemes and confidences. It suddenly felt that it would be such a relief to purge his mind and body of all the secrets that he carried… and so he drank more.
    'What should I tell you? What would I say? You know I do not follow your nailed God. I am a Pagan in the eyes of many.'
    'You are the son of God and a good man, Uther. I want to know more of you. You knew my mother of course, but you also knew my father, and I still do