'You?' Gawain asks, taken aback.

'Is it that surprising?'

'I suppose not,' he says, feeling stupid and suddenly uncomfortably aware of his state of undress, unlike Nimue, who continues:

'I will hold the throne while we lay out a strategy to place you on the throne.'

'I would appoint you regent, but there must be a law that forbids - '

'There is not. I checked,' Nimue replies sharply.

'But even if I do appoint you, there will be conflict and discord, among the knights - '

'I can hold the throne better than any man,' says Nimue, crossing her arms and raising her chin, daring him to defy her. Gawain thinks he sees a hint of playfulness in her eyes, but he also thinks she looks in appearance like a dragon with coiled neck ready to strike, and all the more lethal because its small stature hides its deadliness.

Nimue continues, 'If there is discord among the knights, they are welcome to bring their concerns to me.'

Gawain furrows his brow and looks back up at her. 'What type of strategy are you talking about?'

She purses her lips, irritated at the question, but whether it is the question's timing or content, Gawain does not know.

'If we want you to be king, then the first step is that I hold the throne as regent until you are coronated.'

'Do I want to be king?' Gawain asks.

'I want you to be king, Gawain.'

'Why?' he says, a tone of desperation in his voice.

'Because I have watched you for many years, and I have come to know you, and because of this I believe that you will be the best king among the available choices.'

'A resounding endorsement,' he replies.

'But a logical one. Should we consider those choices that are unavailable?' A beat of silence before she proceeds. 'More important than me, in terms of the law, is that Arthur wanted you to be king.'

'You have said this before. How do you know this?'

'Consider his actions, that he carried out with dedication for years. He kept you as a son, Gawain. You saw him more and spent more time with him than you did with your actual father, who has always been loath to leave his island stronghold. How many hours did Arthur speak with you, teach you, sit with you, share his thoughts with you, listen to the thoughts you shared with him?'

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Gawain considers: 'Quite a lot.'

'Do you think he was wasting his time? Arthur was a man of many faults and many sins, but he did not waste his time.'

'No, I suppose he did not.'

'Also, Merlin wants you to be the next king of Camlann, and then the next High King of Britain.'

'How do you know this?'

'Do I need to answer that question?' Nimue replies, sardonically. 'But let me ask you something else. Where do you think Arthur conceived the idea of making you his heir?'

'Merlin?' Gawain guesses, bewildered if the answer is in fact true.

'Yes, he planted the idea in Arthur's mind and nurtured it for many years, as he nurtured Arthur.'

'Did Merlin task you with carrying out this plan, of making me king?'

'Merlin tasked me with nothing. And if he did, I would have refused on principle. And I am done speaking about him. Arthur is gone. Merlin has been sent away, by me,' Nimue says, index finger jabbing at her heart.

'I am not sure that I want to be king,' says Gawain.

'No one who is good wants to be a king. Did Arthur want to be king?'

'That is a complicated question,' Gawain replies.

Nimue retorts: 'The short answer is no he did not want to be king.'

Gawain begins to respond to this but Nimue interrupts: 'Listen to me, Gawain. There is the symbol, and there is the power that gives the symbol meaning. A symbol is like a staff. It channels power. Without power, a staff cannot do magic. And without power, a symbol is meaningless, and impotent.'

'So I am to be the symbol, and you are to be the power.'

'Yes.'

'I am to be the staff that you hold in your hand?'

'You may think of yourself in this way if it gives you pleasure. But I do not use a staff to do magic. The power comes through me. Nevertheless, in Camlann, the people need to see a king.

Because of me, you will have power, and it will be the power that I give you. You may defy me in this, but if you do, I will find another.'

Gawain is cornered by this statement. 'Then I accept. I will seek the throne, and I will receive the power that you give to me.'

Nimue nods, her face unreadable. As a final thought, she states: 'Tomorrow morning, we will carry out the executions of the prisoners. And after that, will you accompany me into the forest, to the druids? I need to speak with them, and more than that, they need to speak with you.'

'I will accompany you to the druids, but about the executions...' But Nimue holds up a hand to stop him.

A rapping at the door, which she answers, and a servant enters with food for breakfast. Nimue eats two strawberries, drinks a glass of water, and returns to the bed. Gawain follows, and when they have finished making love again, less urgently than last night, Nimue sleeps.

But Gawain lies awake staring at the lengthening shadows of the late morning sun, and the motes of dust that drift through the rays. His thoughts run in many directions, as circuitous as a herd of sheep evading the dog, and just as pointlessly, because in the end his thoughts are corralled into a single direction: whether he seeks the throne to become king or to prevent Nimue from finding another. To serve Camlann, or to serve Nimue.

Gawain ponders all of this in his heart as the sun reaches its apogee in the sky, which is cloudless and brilliantly cerulean, until he too falls asleep with Nimue into a dreamless empty slumber.