Cameron brushed his hand lightly over Neve’s hair before he stretched and rose from his seat on the edge of the bed. Behind him, she murmured something and reached for him, more asleep than awake. He smiled and tucked their blankets a little higher.
“Stay asleep a little longer,” he murmured. “If anything really needs your attention, I’ll come get you.”
She didn’t even open her eyes, just snuggled deeper into the covers and sighed softly.
Cameron kissed her temple and started getting dressed. It was still fairly early, unless he missed his guess. Camp still seemed quiet—not that it ever got that loud, not with the community being as small as it was. Maybe he’d be able to catch up with Thom or Thordin, J.T. or Phelan before someone else waylaid them with something more important than his curiosity.
I need to talk to Phelan about this damn sword.
It hung scabbarded from a peg on the wall, its hilt gleaming dimly in the lamplight. It looked brand new and utterly ancient all at once, beautiful and mysterious and deadly.
The sword was Excalibur, and he still couldn’t quite fathom the circumstances that brought it to his hand.
I never believed in fate. So why did it happen to me?
It was a question he’d asked himself over and over again since the day he’d found out what it was.
“You could come back to bed,” Neve murmured from her cocoon of blankets. Her eyes were shining crescents in the dim light, half hidden by shadows and the comforter she’d half pulled over her head. “What’s dragging you out into the cold?” One of her hands inched from beneath the covers, reaching for him.
He smiled and finished tugging on his pants before he went back over to her and took her hand, squeezing her fingers gently. “One of us has to show our faces so they know we’re still alive, right?”
“Mm.” Her eyes slid closed again. “I guess so, maybe. Will you be long?”
“I’ll come check on you after breakfast,” Cameron said softly. “Would you like me to bring you any?”
“Tea,” she said. “Maybe some bread or toast or something.”
“I’m bringing you meat if she made some,” Cameron said as he stepped away again to tug on a sweatshirt.
“As long as it’s not venison.” Neve curled into a tighter ball, tugging the blankets higher up over her head. “I don’t know what it did to my stomach…”
“I won’t bring you any venison,” he promised. “Not for a few weeks, anyway.”
“Good.” She shivered and he tried not to wince.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“Still?”
She snorted from underneath the blanket. “Cam, I worked magic when I sang those spirits home to their rest. Why do you think I was so adamant that Phelan find someone else to do it?”
He rocked back against his heels. “I didn’t realize—”
“No one except for Phelan and I—and maybe Thordin—did.” She sighed quietly. “I’ll be all right. I’ll just want to sleep for a few more days. That probably has more to do with how much I still hurt, though less than anything else.”
“Has nothing to do with other things, huh?” Cameron managed to smile at her as he snagged his jacket from near the door.
“Well,” Neve said softly. “Maybe a little. Probably a little.” Her eyes came open again. “Turn off the lamp when you leave?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
He gave her one last kiss and turned down the lamp before he walked out the door.
