But his glance wandered beyond her, to the railing of the pavilion, where asphodel grew. Above the white blossoms perched a shining black bird.

Vivien turned to see at what he looked, and the sadness that tinged her smile only made it more sweet. She said, “There he is, once again at one with his soul.” She turned to the King and said, “He will guard your sleep and await your wakening. He will live for as long as you need him.”

Arthur gazed at the raven, his gray eyes widening. “Mordred?” he murmured.

The raven lifted its wings and glided to the foot of his bed. In the harsh croak of a bird it spoke a single word. “Father.”

The King’s eyes filled with tears. The King wept. “Mordred,” he said. “Mordred, my son.”

Sneak Peak of A TALE FROM CAMELOT: I AM MORGAN LE FAY

Turn the page for a sneak peek at the next installment of Nancy Springer’s A Tale from Camelot: I Am Morgan Le Fay.

1

MY FATHER LOVED ME.

He was the only one ever to love me truly.

They killed him when I was six years old.

I am Morgan le Fay, and I will never die. I hover on the wind, and fate falls out of each slow beat of my wings. That is what my name means: Morgan the fate, Morgan the magical, fey Morgan of the otherworld, Morgan who must be feared. But I was not always Morgan le Fay. When they killed my father, I was only little Morgan.

I saw him once after he was dead. I will never forget that night.

While he yet lived, I saw him perhaps eight or ten times that I remember. My father was the Duke of Cornwall, and he was often absent, at war. At first I thought he went out to fight a dragon. Later I understood that he fought a king with an odd name, something about a penned dragon. I did not understand or care what the battles were about; it was the nature of noblemen, evidently, to fight one another, and my father was very much a lord and a warrior.