His features smoothed as his breathing slowed, the lines of hatred and anger that had marred them over the last year disappearing until he resembled the boy who had welcomed me upon my return to Camelot from captivity, rather than the bitter monster he had recently become.
In my lap, Arthur groaned. His eyelashes fluttered and he opened his good eye, squinting at me. “I knew you’d come.”
“I would be nowhere else.” I squeezed his hand, ignoring the twinge in my gut that told me his seeing me meant he was near death as well. “Arthur, I love you. If you remember nothing else, let it be those words.”
He shifted, turning his head to have a better view of me. “And I you.” He caught sight of his son, slumped in Morgan’s arms. “Son?” His voice was thick with confusion.
He did not know what he
