Morgaine tied it around her neck on its slender thong. I tried to cut the head and the very air seemed to eat away at it. It is our custom, said one of the Saxons-not Adelric, Morgause noticed, for this one was wearing some kind of blue cloak, and Adelric's had been brown- to take oath on steel. She slipped inside, her heart pounding, and pushed the door shut; felt herself seized in a hungry embrace that waked her body into fierce life.
Then Morgause saw, in the widening light, the face of her youngest son, Gareth. But after all, I suppose Accolon would want a bride of fifteen, not one of four-and-thirty. We won our knighthoods, all of us who fought in those days, and needed no such ceremonial. She herself could not give Avalon a daughter, but as Viviane had done, she would bring her a fosterling.
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