Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

“Just leave the shift?” He seemed to read her thoughts. “Really, Emma. Don’t be absurd.” “My body’s changed. You’re not the only one with some vanity.” “I’m not even going to dignify this with conversation.”

The sword isn’t anywhere on her person, that he can see. But then this sickly form beside him is just one aspect of what Nimue actually is. She’s every river in the realm, every stream or limpid pool. The sword could be anywhere or everywhere. Hidden in an underwater cave. Spread finely in the morning mist. Raining down on the mountains in the old

This is the same Morgan who once trapped him in the cellar of her castle for three months, back in the old days. The first rumours about him and Gwenhwyfar probably passed as whispers from her lips into Arthur’s ears, to sow discord at Caer Moelydd. He has a glut of reasons to dislike her. But there was always something about her that he faintly ad

“I think he might feel guilty because of the other thing he said while he was here, Arthur.” Arthur sighed, and Felicity looked to Pru, who looked like the cat that got the cream. “What was it?” “How did he put it?” Pru asked with a smile that gave Felicity the keen sense that her sister-in-law had committed whatever Devil had said to memory. “Ah.

She had met more men in the last few days than in all the other days of her life combined. It would take some time to decide how she felt about them in general, and him in particular. Though he was by far the best of them. She suspected she could meet every man on the entire vast island and still find Arthur the best.