Epilogue

"No!" Morgana snapped urgently, gesturing for Agravaine to keep well back from the edge of the shield. "I don't know what basis it's using to keep me out; you dare not cross it. You might not be able to get back in, and then my plans really will be all to ruin."

Her eyes flashed in the torchlight. Agravaine was nervous someone might see the light, here where it wasn't supposed to be, but he didn't want to aggravate his mistress any further, and the threat of what might happen if he messed up lingered in her tone—a promise of pain and agonizing death.

Looking into those light eyes—green, like summer grass—he didn't feel fear, or even wariness. No, Agravaine was delighted to serve someone so—so—

He didn't know the word for it, exactly. But it was close to dedication, close to madness. Close to obsession. A dark passion, perhaps, to destroy everything in her path—Agravaine included, if need be. It was something he admired in her. A ruthlessness he couldn't fail to aspire to.

"I won't fail you, my lady," he assured, and not the least worry seeped into his voice. "You only need tell me what to do."

"Listen well, then," Morgana said. "A shield such as this—covering the city—it cannot be sustained without an external anchor. Not for all the magic and concentration in the world could someone keep this up without help. And if you destroy the physical anchor, the shield will come down."

Agravaine resisted the urge to move closer. There was a way to bring the shield down? Him, without the aid of magic? "How?" he asked.

"Usually these things are guarded, to prevent interference—but I doubt my dearbrother has done such, as he is keeping up his pretense of not using magic. So you will have to find the anchor. It would have to be large and relatively complex for such a thing—a symbol, most like. Or runes. Probably it is carved somewhere in Camelot, to make the connection between the magic and citadel easier. There should be only a few places Arthur could hide such a thing unnoticed. You must find it—tonight." She was intelligent, his lady; as the last High Priestess, she probably knew more than most any sorcerer, except perhaps the druid matriarchs.

"And then I shall destroy it?" Agravaine asked. Large symbols… Perhaps the cellars, where they stored food? Or the dungeons—except with the cells, there were likely no open places…

"No," Morgana said. "You will wait for my signal. I'll send someone—most of my mercenaries were slaughtered by that wretched beast—" She could only mean the dragon, which she had complained of in their last meeting, not even a day ago—"but they can get through the shield. Not enough to put even a dent in the defenses, but he will find you, yes?"

Agravaine nodded. "Yes, my lady. It is an exceptionally clever plot." For all that Morgana said she hated his excessive flattery, there was a certain satisfied gleam in her smile whenever he was subservient. She was meant to be a queen, and she knew it; she couldn't help but enjoy the respect she knew she was due. "And in the confusion…" He tilted the last word up in question, but she was already nodding.

"Yes—it may be the only chance you will have for a while, should this fail. I do not think it will, but—" Her face twisted into something between mania and rage. "Arthur has proven himself to be a hypocrite many times the likes of Uther, using magic so blatantly, even as he condemns it."

Privately, Agravaine thought his nephew had seemed open to the idea of pardoning the sorcerers who had done this—and he had given no hint that he had been the one giving them orders. But disagreeing with his lady was not done—not unless he wanted to be short a limb—so he only nodded.

"Naturally, my lady."

And that was the end of that.

The someone or someones who had put up the shield were not very intelligent, Agravaine found. He had gone looking in the cellars and the dungeons; there was nothing, except the steward (who was sorting out an enormous pile of grain) had given him a sour, but thankfully not suspicious, look. So he had tried his luck elsewhere, exploring the lowermost hallways of the castle in the hopes of discovering something.

He'd come across an innocuous door, which he hadn't thought would lead to anything, except it led into a grand cavern—where, at the bottom, was his prize: clearly magical symbols, carved into the rock. Agravaine stole one of the torches from its bracket outside the door and went down the stairs to examine the symbols. He would have to mar them in some way. He unsheathed his sword and experimentally swiped at the floor—not near the symbols.

It left a scratch, but nothing substantial. Agravaine sighed, but resigned himself to finding a pickaxe or stronger tool. Surely it wouldn't be too hard.

He'd done it. The castle was all in chaos, and the shield had fallen. There was but one thing Agravaine had left to do. He rushed up the stairs—to anyone observant enough to notice, it would seem as though he was going toward his rooms, which he was.

It just so happened his rooms were on the same level as Uther's.

Agravaine didn't duck into an alcove or any such nonsense as guards sprinted by; he wasn't suspicious, and he doubted they would remember him. And if they did, well, it would certainly be too late by then.

The cries of the Sluagh and the dying reached Agravaine, even though the windows were high. He supposed that wasn't much of an issue when the Sluagh could fly. Agravaine ignored the noises, making his way to Uther's rooms. The guards had left their post in the chaos—possibly they were going to one of the windows, knowing that was a more likely entry point for a threat to the king. Or perhaps they were cowards. They were only less people for Agravaine to kill.

Uther's chambers unlocked easily; it had been a simple thing to steal the key from the maid who usually attended the sick man. No guards were present on the inside, nor was anyone else. The kingdom was far too busy to look after its old invalid of a ruler.

Too bad.

Agravaine let a smile creep onto his face as he closed the door gently behind him. It shut with hardly a click, the hinges well-oiled. The chambers, naturally, were fit for a king, aside from being slightly stuffy. The scent of herbs lingered in the air, and Agravaine noted the empty glass bottles on the king's nightstand—the remnants of Gaius's tinctures, no doubt.

Agravaine approached the bed, slipping his dagger from his belt. Oh, how he had longed for this moment, ever since Ygraine had been married off to the tyrant. He had seen the unhappiness in her eyes, her unwillingness. But Ygraine had put her family first, and she had paid the price. It had been Uther's idea to use magic to sire a babe, and it had cost Agravaine a sister. Then, a brother, too caught in his grief to realize the futility of challenging Uther to a duel.

His nephew Arthur was hardly a nephew at all, considering. Begot in the womb by some foul spell that, in the end, had taken Ygraine's life. What kind of child did that give way to? What kind of man? No, better that Arthur died, too—and a final end to Ygraine's misery.

So Agravaine savored Uther's ill look: his cheeks hollow like dark pits, his eyes bulging as though he were already a corpse, his complexion yellow. The eyes—those wretched, wretched blue eyes that Arthur shared—opened. Agravaine found it was better, this way. He wanted to see the light go out of them.

"…Ygraine?" Uther murmured, and Agravaine laughed. He was told there was something in the face, between he and his sister—the same nose, similar dispositions. And with his longer hair, pulled back so the man could not see it was dark, not gold like his wife's…

Still, he was clearly addled.

"You may think of me as her, if you like," Agravaine whispered. "I'm certain she has a thousand hells waiting for you, when you see her again. If your other sins don't lend you enough punishment."

And before the man could say another word, or call for help, or even take a breath, Agravaine slit his throat.

Preview of A Warlock in Camelot: The Trial (Book Two)

As soon as they had their arms around him, he fainted. Lancelot barely suppressed a yelp of alarm, Merlin going limp in his grip; he held fast, preventing the man from bashing his head on the stones. Leon had no such qualms, and he immediately stepped back, like he suspected some kind of trick.

Lancelot wanted to snap at him: this was Merlin, not some stranger. And he'd just saved all of Camelot—didn't that merit some kind of respect? But Lancelot could only see fear and disdain in Leon's eyes, mirrored in the faces surrounding them. These knights didn't even know Merlin as well as Leon did; they knew only the hapless servant, in contrast to the powerful, fearsome warlock.

Arthur approached, face impassive save for a slight wrinkle between his brows. "What's wrong with him?" he said, leaning down. Was that worry in his expression? No, Lancelot must be imagining it. Mostly, the prince's tone seemed indifferent.

Lancelot could feel Merlin's breath, see his chest rise and fall, which soothed the panic tight in his throat. "Exhaustion, sire, if I had to guess—or perhaps blood loss," he replied. "Sir Leon, if you would be so kind as to help me; I cannot carry him all the way down to the dungeons myself."

The dungeons. A fine place to put their savior, not that Lancelot had been expecting anything different. In fact, he'd been expecting far worse, so he supposed this was the best-case scenario. Still, the cells wouldn't be good for Merlin: the man was pale, bleeding from a wound on his head and shoulder, and other bits of pale skin were already bruising. Worry churned in Lancelot's gut like the storm Merlin had conjured.

"Yes, of course," Leon said belatedly, coming forward to take some of Merlin's weight.

"You will see to his wounds, Lancelot," Arthur ordered brusquely, turning away. There was something off in his voice, in his manner—suppressed anger, perhaps? That didn't bode well, except maybe he would wait to cool down before he decided to pass judgment on Merlin. "Ensure he is as comfortable as can be expected."

AN: That's a wrap! My first completed fic. Thank you all so so much for the response! Please let me know what you think, and I hope you all will enjoy the sequel :)