Chapter 24 – Lies and Deceit:

Arthur took less than a second to weigh his options. Expression unyielding and muscles taut, he announced coldly, "I will not have loose ends. We're giving chase. This ends here."

Tristan tacitly surrendered the wheel to Arthur and retreated to stand with Isolde. The couple was immediately commandeered by Merlin to help adjust sails, leaving the prince alone at the stern.

Arthur's stance screamed 'relaxed', but had the others been present to observe, they would have seen through the nonchalant facade and noticed the restless thrum of energy buzzing beneath his skin. His hands gripped the familiar wooden knobs and grooves of the wheel tightly, knuckles white and tendons in his wrists in stark relief. He could feel the rapid staccato of his heart rate pounding in his ears, could feel the dizzying rush of adrenaline fluttering in his chest, and the sickly swoop of nerves settle behind his naval.

But he could also feel the elated thrill dancing through him, tingling in his fingertips and humming through his nerve endings. There was something heady and exhilarating in the freedom and power this bundle of wood and canvas afforded him.

Merlin had already rigged the sails to optimize speed. Now she adjusted them to squeeze even more out of the yacht. The prow of Excalibur sliced easily though the water and they glided forward with effortless grace. Arthur silently counted down the distance to Nimueh's rowboat. Three hundred yards, two fifty, two hundred, one fifty-

At a hundred yards away, Arthur heard the boom swing and had to stop himself from automatically ducking his head at the sound. Excalibur shuddered and slowed down to a crawl as the wind left her sails. They cautiously closed the final hundred yards with bated breath and gut-wrenching anticipation.

As Excalibur inched closer, it was obvious that there wasn't a living thing aboard the mysterious rowboat. It was unnervingly still and absent of human presence.

At this distance, Arthur was able to make out a big streaky black mark that marred the inside of the rowboat. It radiated outward from what appeared to be a pile of—

"Are those bones?"

Arthur flinched when Merlin suddenly spoke. Though she sounded more morbidly fascinated than disgusted.

The prince steered Excalibur so that she drew up alongside the smaller boat. From there they could clearly see ashes and bone fragments sitting in a charred corner of the ship.

"Definitely bones," Isolde said, coming to join them port side, Tristan a step behind her. "But whose?"

Merlin hazarded a guess. "Nimueh?"

Arthur frowned. "It sounds too good to be true, but I don't know who else it could be. This is definitely the boat she stole?"

Merlin nodded emphatically. "I'm sure. It matches Leon's description perfectly: small, standard model, newly commissioned, serial number 0391."

Isolde peered at the grotesque remains. "I wonder what happened. I mean, there's nothing here that could have started a fire. No flint, no match, nothing flammable around. How did she catch on fire in the middle of the ocean?"

"Lightning?" Tristan found three sets of startled eyes suddenly fixed on him. He shrugged. "It's far fetched, but plausible."

Arthur nodded uncertainly. "I suppose we got really lucky that the woman we're hunting was conveniently fried by lightning."

They looked on in troubled silence for a minute. Then Arthur jerked the steering wheel to the right and the Excalibur veered away from the ashes and its floating vessel. As Merlin tugged on different lines, each sail unfurled and filled with air. By increments, the yacht picked up speed until they were hurtling through the waves at top speed once again.

/

Arthur felt a tugging sensation and glanced down to find Freya clutching the hem of his shirt. "Hi-hi Prince Arthur."

He scooped her up into his arms. "Hey-o Frey. How's my favorite lady doing this morning?"

She yawned widely, her mouth slack and tiny nose scrunched up.

Arthur laughed. "Still tired, huh?" He angled himself so she could see out cross the sea. "Do you know where we are?"

"Dragon?"

"No sweetheart, Excalibur."

"Essaliber," she tried.

"Ex-cal-i-ber."

"Eksaliber?"

"Right!" Arthur beamed at her.

Tristan snorted from behind the wheel and Isolde looked away to hide her mirth.

"What?" Arthur demanded.

Tristan pretended to be preoccupied with the buckles on his boots, while Isolde fetched an amused smile. "Nothing."

/

They were docked in Saint Peter by the end of two hours. It was a quaint fishing village, indistinguishable from the dozens of other tiny towns that dotted the coast. In its entirely, St Peter was nothing more than a main street, a wharf, and a handful of whitewashed homes nestled in the shadow of a rugged mountain.

The grizzled fishermen, who were mending nets and gutting fish by the marina, gaped at Excalibur; her elegant lines, glossy finish, and avant-garde aerodynamic model made her immediately conspicuous among the shabby fishing boats. By the time they disembarked, word had spread and a sizable crowd of curious villagers had gathered to greet them.

Arthur had scrounged a cap from somewhere and used it to conceal his conspicuous golden hair. He spoke with an absurd, affected accent and lilting voice. "Greetings, people of St Peter. I am Lord Ruhtra of Tolemac." He gestured to Merlin. "My beloved wife, Lady Nilrem and our daughter, Freya." He waved an arm in the general direction of Tristan and Isolde. "Our servants Natsirt and Edlosi. We seek lodging for tonight. Which of you good people is the keeper of the inn?"

One of the villagers cleared his throat. "Er. Milord, I'm afraid our humble village does not receive visitors very often." The man finished apologetically, "We have no inn."

Arthur only waved genially. "Absolutely fine. A spare room then? You will be well compensated for your troubles."

The villagers bowed their heads together to confer. After several minutes of hushed arguing and agitated shuffling, living arrangements were made. Arthur, Merlin, and Freya would stay with Andrea, a widow, who lived with her teenage daughter in a cabin by the sea, while Tristan and Isolde would inhabit the hayloft in someone's barn not too far away.

To keep up appearances, Tristan was burdened with their various bags as they trekked out to Andrea's house. He came up a step behind Arthur and spoke quietly in the prince's ear, "What did you call me back there? Mat-shirt?"

"Natsirt. It's 'Tristan' backwards," Arthur responded just as quietly. He heard Tristan mumble 'ah' as he figured it out.

On his other side, Andrea was cooing over the child in Merlin's arms.

"Her name is Freya," Merlin told her shyly, ducking her head. She absolutely loathed the 'docile little wife' facade she had to put on, but, as a woman, it kept her from standing out.

Andrea smiled fondly and somewhat wistfully at the little girl. "I remember when my daughter was that size."

Merlin glanced up curiously. "How old is she now?"

"My Amelie is fifteen. She went out this morning with a search party to look for her friend. Daisy went missing two days ago." Andrea shook her head disapprovingly. "That Daisy had a pretty face with an empty head. It's obvious the silly girl ran off with some boy. They won't find her."

Merlin hummed noncommittally. "Is Amelie your only child?"

"I've another. Henri, my oldest, is a servant with the king of kings himself," Andrea said proudly.

"Wow," she murmured, pretending to be impressed while ransacking her memory for a face to go with the name. But the Ygraine easily employed thousands of servants and Henri wasn't that uncommon. Merlin scowled. She hated not knowing.

They came to a stop before a two story house perched right at the edge of the beach. It had been painted blue a long time ago, but the wind and the sand had rubbed the house gray. The peeling shutters framed meticulously clean window panes, through which cheerful curtains peeked.

"Here we are," Andrea announced unnecessarily. She guided them inside. There was a main room that functioned as a kitchen and sitting room, a bedroom on the side, and a steep set of stairs that led to a another bedroom on the second floor. "My lord, you and your family will stay in my son's old room upstairs."

Arthur nodded and sent Tristan up first with the bags. He gestured for Merlin to follow while he took up the rear. The stairs shifted and groaned beneath their feet, vehemently protesting their combined weight. They tried to move faster, but the steep steps proved difficult to scale.

The room at the top was sparsely furnished, containing a single bed and a plain desk. It was spacious but severely limited by the slant of the ceiling. Even at the highest point, their heads skimmed the plaster standing at full height.

Tristan dropped their bags by the bed, nodded at them, and left without a word. Merlin deposited Freya on the mattress and went to open the curtains of the tiny window, while Arthur inspected his blades. A stilted silence filled the air between them.

"Merlin."

"Arthur."

He sighed. "Are you-are you mad at me?"

Merlin turned to face him. "No."

"Then why won't you talk to me?" He hated this distance between them when it had always been so easy, so simple.

She sat down on the bed beside him, their shoulders brushing, but didn't look at him. "It's still too new. It's hard for me to—Just give me some time to get used to it."

Arthur was lost by her cryptic words but didn't want to admit it. "Right. So, um. Are we okay?"

"Of course." She turned her head and sought his eyes. "You're my best friend," she said earnestly.

Arthur couldn't stop the grin that bloomed across his face.

/

Andrea wrung her hands nervously as they dug into the broth. "It's not as fine as my lord must be used to. And the room too. Oh dear. Not anywhere as fine. Goodness what was I thinking—"

Merlin put down her spoon and smiled gently at the other woman. "Oh no, Andrea, everything is lovely."

Arthur jumped when Merlin's sharp elbow dug into his side. "Yes! Just lovely," he said hastily, nearly forgetting his fake accent. "We are very grateful for your hospitality."

"Oh but it's hardly fit for a lord and a lady," she fretted

"Andrea, it's perfect,"Merlin said firmly. "It even reminds me of the house I grew up in."

Andrea was surprised. "You have houses like this in—in—"

"Tolemac?" Oops. Merlin floundered for a moment and decided to stick with the truth. "Er no. Before I met my husband, I lived in a fishing village not a half day north from here."

"You grew up around here? I knew it from the second I saw you! I thought, this girl looks just like a local! With that lovely pale skin and your beautiful dark hair. My goodness, I can hardly believe it! A Terrestrial becoming a lady. And one of our own to boot. Goodness gracious! I am terribly honored to meet you."

Merlin blushed, the tips of her ears burning. "Thank you, Andrea, you are too kind. But it was my husband really. He made me a lady."

Arthur shot her a panicked look as Andrea began to coo over him as well.

He was saved by the door banging open. A teenage girl walked in then stopped dead when she spotted the strangers in her kitchen.

Andrea stood to greet her. "Amelie darling, you're back. Any news?"

The girl shook her head with a frown. "None. We can't find her anywhere."

"That's too bad, love. I'm sure she's fine. Come eat." She went to fetch another bowl.

Amelie shed her cloak and stared at the guests curiously.

"Oh! Darling, this is Lord Ruhtra, Lady Nilrem, and their daughter Freya. They'll be staying with us. Milord, milady, this is my daughter Amelie."

They murmured greetings and exchanged nods and curtsies. Freya forgot about her dinner and watched Amelie with wide eyes.

"Mum, I almost forgot! I picked up a letter while we were in Northumbria." Amelie pulled out a square of paper and unfolded it. "It's from Henri."

Andrea took the letter and squinted at the words. "We'll have to have Sen read it to us some time."

It dawned on Arthur that unlike Merlin, most Terrestrials never learned how to read or write. He added it to the list of things he would change when he was king. He spoke up, "I'm sure Mer-Nilrem would love to read it for you."

Amelie gaped at her. "You can read?"

Merlin smiled. "I can. Would you like me to? If it's private I won't—"

Andrea pressed the paper into her hand. "Oh no, my lady. It would be an honor."

Merlin cleared her throat.

"Dear Mum and Amelie,

Thanks for your last letter. I hope you're doing okay. I can't believe we stopped so close to home and I won't get to see you. The Ygraine only stopped in Northumbria so the king's guests could get off. He invited a bunch of princesses so Prince Arthur could choose one and marry her. The Prince was supposed to announce his bride this morning but he never showed. Everyone is saying that his advisor Lady Merlin seduced and kidnapped him. And that she was the traitor who released a dangerous prisoner last week. The king has banished her and put a high price on her head. She's very dangerous. Be careful in case she comes your way—"

Merlin dropped the letter, hand shaking. Arthur took her hand in two of his and squeezed. She glanced at him and read the myriad of emotions on his face: shock, anger, and something else. Guilt.

And suddenly she knew. Merlin wrenched her hand away. "Excuse me." She stood jerkily and fled upstairs.

She left a stunned silence in her wake. Freya looked confused and a little afraid so Arthur pulled her into his lap. Andrea frowned at the letter, concerned. "Will she be all right?"

Arthur scrutinized the grooves in his palms. Finally he spoke quietly. "My wife, she—she loved the prince once."

The pain in his voice was not caused by the reasons they thought.

"What happened?" Amelie asked. Her mother tried to shush her.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know," he said honestly. "She won't talk to me about it."

"They'll find him," Amelie declared. "They'll find the prince and punish the bad lady."

Arthur grimaced. He knew she was only trying to help.

"What if he wasn't kidnapped," he said quietly, "What if he wanted to leave?" Not waiting for an answer, Arthur excused himself and went upstairs, leaving Freya in the kitchen.

He pushed the door open slowly, heart beating out of his chest. It was forebodingly silent. Arthur let the door swing all the way open. "Merlin?"

She sat on the bed, stone still and staring resolutely out the window.

"I'm sorry. I—"

She whirled around, eyes flashing and features set in a fierce snarl. Arthur took a subconscious step back in the face of her rage. "You're sorry? Is that all you have to say?"

"Merlin—"

"No!" She screamed at him. "I'm not done. I trusted you, Arthur, I thought you were on my side."

"I am," Arthur pleaded. "Merlin, I am!"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Merlin shouted at him. "Why did I have to find out like this?"

Arthur couldn't help raising his voice as well. "I was going to tell you!"

"When? I know you knew," she hissed. "When were you going to tell me that I'm a fugitive wanted for treason?"

"I didn't know about any of that! We left because my father was going to arrest you and exile you, that's it."

"And when were you going to tell me about that? Don't you think I had a right to know?" Merlin knew that she was being unreasonable, that she should give Arthur a chance to explain. But all she could feel was this ugly, terrible, boiling rage that twisted her insides and lit her skin on fire. It drove her cruel, lashing words and filled her heart with a seething mass of cold anger. And she knew, that if she let go of that anger, she'd be left completely and horribly empty. So she let those vicious thoughts fuel her rage and pushed away the chiding voice of her conscience.

"Please believe me, I was going to tell you, but I didn't know how." His eyes begged her to understand. "I didn't want to hurt you."

Wrong thing to say.

"Did you think I couldn't handle it? Is it because I'm too weak? Too much of a girl?" she sneered. She didn't mean to say it but somehow all of their arguments came back to this. After all these years she chafed under the injustice of it all. Being a female on a Mariner ship was a demeaning experience. All those balls and banquets just so women could parade around like livestock. She was doomed to be seen but never heard, valued for her face and her body but not for any product of her mind. Merlin was lucky really that Arthur afforded her as many liberties as he did, and that he fought every time Uther suggested hiring a real (read: male) tutor. Still, she couldn't silence that snide, resentful voice at the back of her mind.

"No, of course not—"

"I thought you said we were equals yet you treat me like a child! You won't tell me anything, you're never honest with me and you're always keeping secrets," she accused, unbidden tears welling in her eyes.

Arthur wanted to reach out for her. How could he convince her to believe him? "Merlin, how could you think that? I never thought I was better than you. I have so much respect for you—"

"But you lied to me."

And there was the crux of the matter. Arthur couldn't meet her eyes. He ducked his head, shame burning behind his eyes. "I did."

"Get out." Her voice sounded hollow and frigid and wrong. Merlin was supposed to be warm and cheerful. This Merlin was angry and hurting and Arthur hated himself for causing the pain he had tried to shield her from.

He told himself the least he could do was give her some space. He took his sword and left the rest with her. Suddenly weary, Arthur descended the stairs.

Sitting by the fire, Andrea was trying to comfort Freya, who had been frightened by the muffled shouting. Great. Now he felt bad about that too.

Freya squirmed away from Andrea and ran to Arthur. The prince scooped her up and held her close. "It's okay Frey, you're okay. We're not mad at you, all right? Don't be sad, love."

Freya sniffled. "Are you going away?"

"Frey, no, you'll see me in the morning. I'd never go anywhere without my favorite princess, right?"

She nodded, appeased.

He looked at her seriously. "I want you to go upstairs and give Merlin a big hug for me, okay?"

Freya shrugged her little shoulders like she'd seen other people do. "Okay."

Arthur set her down and watched as she raced upstairs.

"Good night, Princess Freya," he called.

She giggled. "Good night."

/

Isolde rapped twice on the bedroom door and let herself in. Merlin looked up, surprised. "Isolde?"

"Hey Merlin. I'll be staying with you tonight if you don't mind." When Arthur showed up at the loft where she and Tristan were staying with a kicked puppy expression, Isolde couldn't not feel sorry for him and agreed to switch places with him for the night.

"Oh, you don't have to—I didn't mean to make you move," Merlin said apologetically.

Isolde sat on the mattress next to her. "It's okay, I don't mind. I understand what it's like. Do you want to talk to me about it?"

"I guess." Merlin took a deep breath. "I've been—banished. From Camelot."

Isolde winced.

Merlin narrowed her eyes. "You don't seem surprised," she accused.

"I knew," Isolde admitted. "I'm sorry! Arthur wanted to be the one to tell you and I didn't think—"

Merlin sighed. "It's fine, Isolde. I don't blame you. I just wish Arthur would be honest with me. He's always lying at court and lying to other people but I thought at least he'd tell me the truth."

"I think he was trying to protect you,"Isolde said gently. "He cares about you, Merlin. He doesn't want you to get hurt."

"He should have just told me. He doesn't have to protect me, I'm not weak!"

Isolde tried to reason with her. "It's not because you're weak, and it's not even because you're a girl. It's because you're his best friend. Even if you were a man, Arthur would have still tried to protect you, because that's how he is."

Merlin frowned. "I think I deserved to know. He had no right to keep it from me. He tricked me and lied to me and that's hard to forgive."

Isolde squeezed her hand. "He broke your trust and that's something hard to forget. Take a break from him, take some time to think about it and calm down. But eventually, I think you two should talk about this. What you have his something precious and I would hate to see you throw it away."

Merlin nodded grudgingly. "Thanks, Isolde."

"It's nothing. What are girl friends for?"

/

The next morning, Arthur, Merlin, Tristan, and Isolde sat around Andrea's table, studying a map.

"So right now, we're in Saint Peter. Isolde and Tristan, you two want to get to Northumbria. That's about—" Arthur measured the distance with his fingers. "—fifteen leagues Southwest of here."

Isolde shook her head. "I sent a letter to our ship. They're meeting us here in a few hours. It saves us the journey and I'd rather not get tangled up in Northumbria."

Arthur nodded. "Excellent. Well Merlin and I are headed to Camlann. We're meeting someone tonight."

Tristan checked the map. "Camlann is five leagues North of here."

"Then we should leave soon if we want to make it by sunset," Arthur announced.

Merlin frowned, going over calculations in her head. "It shouldn't take that long—"

"Not by boat," Arthur interrupted. "We're walking."

"Walking." Merlin's eyebrows shot up incredulously.

"Excalibur is too conspicuous, so Leon's coming to pick her up. We're walking to Camlann." Arthur informed her.

Merlin seethed in silence. Typical. Arthur didn't even bother to discuss things with her. She stalked upstairs to retrieve their bags and marched back down.

"Ready?"

Merlin scowled at him. She was being childish but she honestly didn't care.

"I guess this is it." Isolde stepped in between them. She hugged Merlin. "It's been good to meet you, darling. Write me if you ever need anything. I hope everything works out for you."

"Me too." Merlin offered her a genuine smile. "Thanks for everything, Isolde. Have a safe journey."

Tristan approached to say his goodbyes to Merlin, so Isolde went over to where Arthur was standing.

The prince looked up and smiled at her. "It was good to see you again, Isolde."

"Likewise." She pulled him into an embrace. "You're a good man, Arthur Pendragon. You'll make an excellent king some day."

"Thank you, Isolde. As you'll make a lovely queen."

Isolde took a step back and waved a stern finger at him. "And you be good to Merlin. Treat that girl right, you hear?"

Arthur ducked his head. "I'll do my best. Good bye, Isolde."

He swung one of the bags onto his back and Merlin picked up the other. They each took one of Freya's hands and thus linked, set off into the forest.