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had no need for heavy cloth. We had the luxury of beauty over functionality.
    I sighed as I realized that if I was comparing the Spiritlands to Camelot, then I was truly wide awake. I knew I was not going back to sleep now. And if I was going to be awake, I might as well reacquaint myself with the castle. We were here on a mission and failure was not an option. I could sleep when we returned to the Spiritlands. I quietly crept past my bed where Lucan blissfully slept and slipped silently out into the hall, closing the door softly behind me.
    The corridors were cool and shadowy, the light from the flickering torches slowly dying. My nose twitched as I sniffed at the lamp oil. They would just barely last until morning, each hour burning lower and lower until they burned out just as they sun came up. Like everything else in Camelot, they did their jobs perfectly. Arthur made sure that everything worked like a well-oiled machine.
    As I walked, I trailed my fingers along the rough-hewn blocks of the walls. How could I ever have forgotten this life? It was astounding to me that the Fates’ had truly Courtney Cole 22
    With My Last Breath, Book Three
    held that much power over me. They had literally played games with my mind and I had allowed it. Never again , I vowed to myself, as I turned a darkened corner.
    A flicker of movement stilled my footsteps and out of instinct, I stepped back into the cover of darkness. With interest, I watched a figure emerge from the king’s bedchambers and then I saw Guinevere’s face in the dim torchlight. I sighed in relief.
    Sleep was alluding her, as well, and it would give me a chance to speak with her.
    I moved toward her, but something was wrong and I froze once again in the shadows. A dark light shimmered over her body, flickering and swirling up and down the length of her. It made her appear as a mirage. I blinked my eyes closed, but she was the same when I reopened them.
    And then she was no longer my mother. Her body twisted and contorted and she morphed into Morgan le Fey, the half-sister of the king. She stood quietly for a moment, completely still. But while her dark blue eyes stared straight ahead, I was able to see something within them.
    She was Eris. Morgan was actually Eris, the goddess of strife and discord- my polar opposite. She had been a thorn in my side for several millennia and she had never been more devious than she was as Morgan.
    In fascination, I watched her catch her breath, lifting a shaking hand to tuck a long tendril of dark hair out of her face. Eris had kidnapped Cadmus in the Spiritlands-feeding him a love potion to make him think that he loved her. I never had a chance to confront her about that because the Fates had enslaved her and in fact, that was where she currently was now—trapped in an empty fire pit with them on Calypso’s island.
    My fingers itched to carry out vengeance on this version of Eris… to scratch Morgan le Fey’s eyes out- to use my goddess strength and hurl her from the nearest balcony.
    But I did not. I clenched my hands tightly at my sides instead, knowing that I was likely drawing blood with my fingernails. Contempt filled me up and I had to literally fight with myself to contain it.
    What was Morgan doing in Arthur’s chamber? Especially disguised as my mother?
    And then realization, a dark, hideous theory, dawned on me and I swallowed my own bile. Surely, even Eris wouldn’t… surely not. She didn’t sleep with her own brother disguised as Guinevere. That would be positively the worst thing I had ever known her to do.
    But I knew that she was agitated with him. She and Arthur Pendragon shared the same mother. It was his father, Uther, who had the royal blood and Morgan had always resented him for that. When I was here last, I suspected her of sabotaging the king, but it had not been her who had ultimately done it. Or had she? Had she been involved all along?
    The heavy bedchamber door interrupted my musings as it creaked open