“Take care, Morgana Pengragon, for the consequences of your actions will be dire should one word slip out of place,” the blind crone had warned.

xXx

    “Lancelot?” Guinevere calls softly as she enters the great hall, twisting the silver bracelet he gave her absentmindedly around her wrist. What am I doing here? she wonders. I প্রণয় Arthur. I’m marrying Arthur tomorrow.
    But I cannot seem to pull away, she realizes as her feet keep propelling her forward, towards the black shape behind a pillar.
    She...