Sudden sympathy for him rose in Morgause-bastard, not even an acknowledged one, he was even more of an outsider than Lancelet had been. She caught up the linen sheet from the bed, tore it, and wadded it against Gwydion's wound. Avalon! Have you come here from that unholy land? Morgaine thought, Once I would have been angry with her. I won't say no to that, Mother.
After a moment he murmured, My beloved, my precious white bird, my own sweetheart-forgive me-forgive me- Nimue realized that now she could use even her own very real fear for her own ends. why, 'tis three years come Midsummer. They will gossip about the King's kin, whether or no, Gwydion. If the traveller seemed harmless, she might ask him what news; if not, well, she would lie here hidden until he was out of sight.
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