Camelot's Blood by Sarah Zettel

and that was Morgaine, called the Goddess and the Sleepless.
    Called enemy to King Arthur and Queen Guinevere and all who stood with them.
    Agravain folded his arms over his chest, in part to keep his hands from clenching into fists. “Moving how?”
    Ros shook his head again and his fingers twisted and tightened, looking for something to hold onto. “Not moving. Waiting. At parley, it’s thought, with the Pict and the Dal Riata.”
    So. It’s come. It’s come at last
.
    Although he was sure he already knew the answer, Agravain asked the next question. “And no one has moved against it?”
    â€œNo, my lord.” Ros’s voice changed tone subtly, becoming not angry, but harder. Sour, as if he’d spit if he were not in such company. “Our neighbors are all waiting to see which way the wind blows, Lord Pedair thinks.”
    â€œDoes a lady wait with the army?” asked King Arthur abruptly.
    This took Ros aback. “A lady, Sire?” Perhaps he had not heard the stories, although Agravain doubted that. More likely he had been so intent on delivering his news, he had not had the opportunity to think on what it might mean.
    â€œYes. She will have black hair and black eyes.”
    Ros considered, searching his memory as well as the faces of the men around him. All stayed quiet, giving no hint as to the answer they wanted. “No one has seen such lady. No one I’ve spoken to. The raven army is led by a man in black, though.”
    â€œWhat man is this?”
    Ros shrugged, seemingly abashed. “He rides a black horse and wears armour all enamelled in black as they do in the eastern parts of the world. He is a shadow at midday, and they say he commands the earth underfoot and the skies overhead. I don’t believe it myself, but I’ve seen him …” Ros faltered. “Well … I’ve seen him.”
    Agravain gritted his teeth briefly. “What force is there left to Din Eityn?”
    Ros licked his lips. He ducked his head for a moment, then seemed to remember some pride of place, and straightened. “None, my lord,” he said and his voice was steady. Flinching from this truth would be useless. “We’re a hollow shell. We’ll crack as soon as the hammer falls.”
    The king nodded, tugging at his beard and contemplating the fire again. “Thank you, Ros. Get some rest. We may send for you tomorrow to repeat what you have told us before the full council.”
    Ros knelt again, and took himself out of there, not without a backward glance at Agravain and Gawain. Agravain barely spared him a thought. All his attention turned towards the king. His frame thrummed with tension. Arthur must order him home. Now. At once.
    Sir Kai shuffled past them and did what few were allowed. Without waiting for the king’s permission, he sat, pulling his lame leg towards the fire.
    â€œForgive me,” he said. “It has been a long night for these misshapen limbs of mine. What counselcil then, my king?” He looked up expectantly at Arthur.
    Agravain at first thought this was mere flippancy, but he watched how Kai’s words made the king recall himself from across the distance his thoughts had travelled. It was no good road, but when Arthur spoke, his voice still held his familiar strength.
    â€œSo. The Dal Riata and the Pict are negotiating an alliance. If there were time, I’d lay another curse against Vortigern for inviting those men of Eire to our lands.”
    History. History of battles that had left blood across the land and stained men’s minds with hate. That hate moved them down the generations.
    â€œWe cannot believe that this new alliance, and these five hundred men from the south, will not be turned against us.”
Not with the raven flying over them
. But Arthur did not say that. “And given the timing, we must believe its road south will lie straight through Gododdin,” he went on.