Bounty
Merlyn and Gwen's journey home was hindered as the sky grew darker over the course of the morning. Heavy clouds gathered ahead, capping the White Mountains and ruining any chance they had of crossing the higher, narrower pass on which they had previously ridden. Disgruntled, the pair turned their steeds northward towards the lower, wider Pass of Camlann, but they were still struck when the clouds dropped their load. Bitter wind blew icy rain into their faces, soaking through every layer they wore within minutes, but they trudged on through their shivers since no relief would be found on this side of the range. Their poor steeds clomped forward faithfully, heads tucked low, even as it was obvious none of them were going to make it much beyond the pass without needing to find shelter. The beasts had already been pushed to make it so quickly to the Isle of the Blessed, and neither human had slept since leaving Camelot.
Thankfully, the Pass of Camlann was close to the East-West Road, which was one of the main thoroughfares across Camelot, and was appropriately populated with many inns for travellers such as themselves. Both women were exhausted when they finally stumbled into such an establishment, seeing their horses were tended to before changing from their soaked clothes and settling in for a hot meal in the tavern beneath their rooms. The two sat in a corner near the bar front, eating broth and bread in companionable, tired silence while the din of the crowd hovered at a low roar.
But someone was watching them. The knowledge swirled in Merlyn's gut, itching up her spine like marching ants. Normally, – as two women travelling unaccompanied by a man – they would eat in the security of their room, but the innkeeper had assured them of his establishment's reputability and his imposing wife had promised to keep any unwanted advances away. Yet, the black-haired girl could feel eyes burning into her flesh, searing it with the unwanted attention.
Casually, Merlyn lifted her eyes from her bowl and let her eyes drift over the occupants of the tavern, pursuing the gaze that had the hairs at the nape of her neck rising. She found it quickly, the grubby man making no attempts as subtlety. He leered when he caught her attention and lifted his cup in a toast. She grimaced and snapped her gaze back to Gwen, hoping he was just a seedy drunk looking at fresh faces. Her curly-haired friend raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but Merlyn shook her head dismissively only to grit her teeth as the man's shadow fell over their table.
"Now here are two lovely ladies lacking the attention they deserve," he said, words slurring minutely. He leant against the wooden top and raked his brown eyes over them appreciatively.
Gwen's features curled in distaste before she looked up to the looming man with a false smile. "It is not that we are lacking, good sir. It is that we do not seek it. Your compliment is appreciated nevertheless."
As far as dismissals went, Merlyn was impressed with Gwen's diplomatic conclusiveness. The only offense the man could take was on being refused at all.
And, indeed, the man did not take no for an answer. He leant forward, his hot breath stinking of stale beer. "I see no men at your sides. Two fine lasses such as yourselves deserve good company."
"Our men are not far away," Merlyn said, unable to completely withhold her ire. She tempered herself when Gwen narrowed her eyes warningly and added a little more politely; "We are not up for entertaining right now. We require rest for our journey on the morrow."
"Oh," said the man, eyebrow quirked curiously. "And where is this important journey leading you, lass?"
She jutted her chin and met his eyes with a glare. "That is none of your concern, sir. Now leave us in peace."
His brow twitched in irritation, but the landlord loomed up behind him and tapped his shoulder with a heavy scowl. The drunk turned and saw the older man, raising his hands placatingly.
The landlord said in his gruff drawl; "Away with you, lad, unless you wish to sleep with the pigs tonight."
"No harm, friend," he said with a smarmy grin. "I was just leaving."
He winked to the two women and sauntered away, disappearing into the throng of bodies moving between the bar and the tables.
"Apologies, fair ladies," he said in a kinder tone, wringing his hands on the towel tucked into his half apron. "Would'a come sooner if I'd seen. Didn't bother ya too much, did he?" His eyes flicked to the bar where his wife handled the crowds, exposing his desire not to let the tavern's reputation be tarnished by this scene.
"We are well," Gwen assured with a tired smile. "We are to head to our rooms now, but I thank you for your aid."
"Of course," he mumbled. "I'll send up a pot a tea free o' charge."
They nodded in thanks and the pair abandoned their table to retreat to their room, the promised tray of hot brew appearing soon after. They sipped from their cups until the drowsiness couldn't be ignored then settled in for a rest. They shared a bed, not willing to waste their funds on a two-bed room when they were just as comfortable with a single. Both were too tired to worry about courtesy anyway, and they dropped into sleep almost the moment their heads hit the pillow. So great was the yearning for rest that Merlyn forgot to set a boundary alarm; an oversight she soon regretted.
He came in the darkness of early morn, when most of the tavern patrons had stumbled drunkenly from the building in their search for a place to lay their heads. He slipped from an empty room when the sounds around him had eased into grunts and snores and creaking beds, ghosting up the narrow hallway to the door he sought. His keen sight had watched the two women retreat into the room earlier, brown eyes shining with reflected torchlight while the rest of him lingered in shadow, unseen by the women's usual vigilance.
They did not stir in their bed when the lock gave a faint click nor when the door inched open on silent hinges and a shade slipped inside. The two were intertwined beneath the blankets, Merlyn's face pressed against Gwen's breast, cuddled against her torso like a child clutching her teddy. Her sleep was deep and restful, but the closer the man drew to their bed, the more her brow crinkled as her magic niggled at her unconscious mind. She heaved a sigh and nuzzled her nose into Gwen's shoulder, causing the other woman to stir slightly. Dazed brown eyes blinked open drowsily and latched unfocusedly onto those of the intruder, and he pounced as belated realisation flashed across her features, glint of silver shining in his hand.
"Merlyn!" she squealed as she rolled atop the younger woman, attempting to protect her from their attacker. Merlyn awoke with a disoriented gasp, flailing against Gwen's weight before a shadow loomed above and a blade came swinging towards Gwen's unprotected back. Merlyn flung out her hands and a burst of magic shoved him off the bed, giving the two time to untangle themselves from the sheets and each other.
The man leapt up with a snarl, so Merlyn raised her hands defensively and he paused. She demanded in a sleep-rasped voice, trying to blink the blurriness of slumber from her eyes, "Who are you? Why are you attacking us?"
"Who I am matters not," he sneered, teeth bared in a threatening smile. "Only that you will obey me if you do not wish for harm to come to your pretty friend."
Merlyn did not look at Gwen, but ire shot up her spine at his daring. "You are at a disadvantage, sir. She is not within your reach and I will not let her be harmed by you. You have seen what I can do; tell me why you are attacking us!"
"What does it matter?" he sneered.
Merlyn retorted, "I would know why someone is trying to kill us!"
He cocked his head, smirk playing on his thin lips. "Who said anything about killing?"
She faltered for a moment in incredulity then barked, "Perhaps the knife you wield!"
He looked at the blade in his hand and shrugged in concession. "A precautionary measure, I assure you. You are worth much more alive."
Merlyn felt Gwen tense at her shoulder and a protective hand was placed on her shoulder. "To whom?" the darker woman demanded.
The man cocked his head as if confused by the question. "To Hengist, of course," he said, and the rush of realisation left Merlyn lightheaded.
"He has a bounty on my head," she realised, and the man bowed theatrically at her accuracy.
"A large enough sum for me to live prosperously for many years," he said merrily, as if it was something of which to be proud. "I can only be thankful that you saved me the trouble of venturing all the way to Camelot; dodging those pesky knights with a live package can be so troublesome."
"Hengist is being starved out of his stronghold," Gwen declared. "Any attempt to go to him will have you found by Camelot's knights."
"My dear," he said condescendingly. "There is always more than one way to traverse a castle. Hengist may not be able to raid villages or trade with his neighbours, but one man is hardly as noticeable as a horde. Men like he do not fall for long."
"Regardless," Merlyn cut in, jaw clenched and her magic to itching under her skin with irritation. "I will not be going with you."
"Do not think I am the only one who was watching you," he leered. "No matter your efforts, someone will hunt you down. There are people who bear the tools to subdue one such as yourself. Would it not be better to submit on you own than be shackled in a cage? Keep some dignity at least."
"My dignity does not need your attention, and I certainly do not need your guidance." She shoved her palm forward and barked; "Astríce!"
Caught off-guard, the man flew back into the wall, breath knocked from his body before he could so much as yelp. It didn't stop the loud thump of his back connecting with the wooden boards of the wall, probably disturbing the entire tavern before he crumpled to the floor. He was very obviously unconscious, and Merlyn quickly seized the opportunity to light a candle and gather their belongings.
"We cannot stay here," she panted as she shoved their few clothes into her travel sack. Gwen moved alongside her, collecting their boots and waterskins. Merlyn was jamming her arms into her jacket when there was a loud knock on the front door.
"Everythin' alright?" barked the barkeeper's wife, her lowborn accent strong. "There were complaints of noise."
Merlyn glanced towards Gwen with wide eyes, but the other woman drew herself up and marched towards the door boldly. She swung it wide and spoke with displeasure; "I'm afraid your reports are true. A man snuck into our room minutes ago and tried to accost my companion and I." She stepped back and to the side, allowing the burly woman to step inside and see the lump against the far wall. Her firm features darkened with a scowl, but she turned gentle eyes on a nervous Merlyn, jacket still half over her shoulders, then back to Gwen, holding onto her composure with both hands.
"Did he harm yeh?"
"No," said Gwen. "We awoke before he could trap us. He wasn't prepared for us to fight back."
"They never are," the woman growled, and she strode closer to the unconscious man, holding a long-handled broom in one hand, unlit pricket in the other. She noticed Merlyn's gaze upon the broom and hefted it with a fierce smile. "They never 'spect a broom to be a weapon neither." Merlyn couldn't help the grin that pulled at her lips, liking this woman more and more. Though her husband was the owner of the tavern, it was clear who the true ruler of the household was.
She lightly kicked the downed man and, when he didn't stir, she handed the pricket to Gwen so she had a free hand to grab a fistful of his collar. She dragged him towards the door without hesitation or concern. "Apologies for such gross misbehaviour under me roof. If you want ter move rooms, yeh more than welcome. There's a two-bed room three doors down; no charge. I'll make up a pot of tea ter settle yeh nerves."
"Actually," Merlyn began but Gwen cut her off.
"You are most generous," she said with an appreciative dip of her head. "We will be grateful for a place to wait out the night."
"Good," the woman said and dropped the man in the corridor before leading the pair to the correct door. She unlocked it with the keychain hanging off her belt, took the pricket from Gwen and lit the candle atop it with one of the small corridor torches before handing it back. She waved them inside with little fanfare. "Let me deal with this sad sack and I'll return with yer tea."
Merlyn followed Gwen inside with her jaw clenched unhappily. She didn't ask what 'dealing with the man' meant but she was more concerned with her friend trapping them at the tavern for the night. As soon as the door shut, she opened her mouth to question the curly-haired woman, but Gwen spoke before she could, carrying her candle over to light the other two sitting on the small bedside tables. She was focused on her task, but it was obvious that she had anticipated Merlyn's ire. "Riding out in the middle of the night is asking for attention, not to mention the danger of travelling in the dark. That room was no longer safe, no, but now we have time to plan our next step. This was a sensible action, Merlyn."
The black-haired girl paused, her indignation falling away as she forced herself to consider Gwen's words. It made sense. If they'd fled the inn, who knew if there weren't worse things waiting further along the road.
Begrudgingly, she conceded her friend's wisdom but the nervous jitters in her belly didn't ease. "He said he wasn't the only one listening. We must be on our guard for more attacks." She shook her head, a little unnerved at the knowledge that a bounty sat upon her head. Gwen seemed to agree.
"We must return to the protection of Camelot swiftly," she said quietly. "Arthur must know of this as soon as possible."
Merlyn wanted to scoff at the notion he would care. He would probably assume she deserved it for having magic, even though sorcery was not why she was hunted.
"Once I have returned, there is little hope of me leaving again," she said morbidly. "I doubt Arthur will permit me from his side."
"He must still know. We know not the price but if it is as much as the man was saying then some may still try in the prince's presence, which puts him, and any others nearby, in danger also."
She had not thought of that.
"I will tell him when I have the chance," she conceded on a sigh and turned to inspect the room. It was much like the one they had just vacated; slightly larger and holding two beds instead of one, with a small window between the headboards. The brown curtains were drawn for the night their edges just brushing the back of two small tables just large enough for a candleholder each.
Gwen sat the candle in her hand atop the table of the nearest one and folded down the crisp blankets before sliding under. She drew the blankets over her lap with a tired sigh and Merlyn eyed her as she absently rubbed her belly, concern bleeding into her mind. What if the spell had worked incorrectly?
"Are you in pain?" she asked, nodding her head towards Gwen's hand.
The curly-haired woman shook her head. "More of a discomfit." She shifted thoughtfully. "Like bloating before a moon cycle."
"Are you due?"
"Not for another week. I am fine, I promise you. I've had worse pains in my belly for less of a reason in the past. This is nothing."
Merlyn said nothing but tucked away that piece of information to appraise later. Unexplained pains could have been her body telling her something was wrong; perhaps related to her prior infertility or, gods forbid, something else. She'd have to review with Gaius when she had a chance but there was no point worrying Gwen if it was nothing.
There was a sharp rap on the door before it opened and the landlord's wife stepped inside, carrying a tray laden with tea, milk, biscuits and utensils. "Here yeh are, girls. Strong black; add what yeh want, I'll collect it in the mornin'. Rest as long as yeh need; here's the key, leave it behind the barkeep when yeh go."
"Many thanks," Merlyn murmured, and the woman left them alone. Before she took a cup, Merlyn set a boundary alarm along the length of the room, focusing in particular on the door. Gwen locked it for good measure and the two settled down on their separate beds, a steaming cup of tea in their hands. Neither relaxed enough to drift to sleep but the silence between them was staid and heavy with fatigue. Merlyn let the familiar scent of tea wash over her senses and dull her thoughts, sleepiness laving at her consciousness even as uneasiness sloshed in her gut. She didn't want to close her eyes and risk another attack, even though exhaustion dragged at her eyelids like physical weights.
As if Gwen had read her reluctance, she said quietly, "We should try to rest a little longer. We are safe for tonight."
Merlyn didn't reply, words too much effort to form, but she also didn't move. She agreed with her friend, and she longed for sleep, but summoning the will to shuffle into a comfortable position proved too much at that moment. She continued to stare at the door, listening to the sound of light rain on the roof.
Gwen seemed to understand and after several minutes of uninterrupted silence, she finally heaved a sigh and shifted atop the bed, placing her teacup down and blowing out her candle. "Goodnight," she murmured before she closed her eyes, drawing her blankets over her shoulder.
"Goodnight," Merlyn returned on a breath, listening as Gwen's inhales steadied and softened as she was carried away by dreams. She tried to fight it, but it wasn't long before she, too, was asleep.
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As soon as the grey of predawn lightened the air, Merlyn and Gwen were continuing along the East-West Road towards Camelot. The weather of the previous day had blown away, leaving only a few high clouds in dusky pinks and purples, transforming quickly as the sun crept upwards into glowing yellow smudges upon the balayage sky. Mist coated the ground like a blanket, but lifted swiftly under the light of day, thinning into nothingness like steam from a cooking pot.
A good night's rest had rejuvenated their horses, and they walked with vigour, gear jangling merrily as they moved. It was an odd contrast to the two women, whose night hadn't been so peaceful, and they rode in silence, thoughts plagued by the information revealed.
This part of the East-West Road was less active than the Southwood, which carved its way north through towns and connected to other well-worked roads, but it was the main path to the White Mountains and the western kingdoms of Gwynedd and Dyfed, so it was maintained almost as well, with semi-regular patrols guarding the travellers on their journeys. With that in mind, they were caught well off-guard by the ambush they sprung.
They were traversing a part of the road that cut into the slope of a gentle hill, the high side thick with tall trees while the low continued downwards before levelling into a low, marshy plain. The path was a little narrower than the rest of the road, but wide enough for a decent carriage, and the overhanging branches provided shade against the midmorning sun. Neither rider anticipated the strategic placement of the lowest branches until three figures dropped from their heights.
Two went for the horses' reins while the third landed atop Merlyn, tackling her from her saddle without mercy. She crumpled beneath the lithe figure and slammed hard into the ground, breath propelled from her lungs as her skull bounced off the dirt. Black spots exploded in her vision and her ears fell victim to a high-pitched squeal that drowned out all other sound, disorienting her as she flailed like a landbound fish.
The figure that tackled her pressed her into the ground, strong thighs clamping her arms to her sides as a cloth was shoved in her face, wet and stringently sweet. If Merlyn had been able to inhale, she would have been unconscious in seconds, but her breathlessness aided her as her magic shot defensively from her skin. The weight atop her disappeared.
She immediately rolled to her side, flinching as sharp pain radiated down her neck, but forced herself upwards as instincts overrode her desire to curl up into a ball. Her vision was still hindered by blackness, splotched like drops of paint in her eyes, but she could see a horse-like shape that had to be Gwen's steed, rearing in fright while a mass of brown and cream was dragged from his back.
Merlyn pressed a hand to her head as her hearing slowly returned, Gwen's angry and frightful shouts, and the deeper grunts and growls of their assailants weaving into her numbed ears. She blinked in an attempt to clear her vision but staggered unsteadily as her sense of balance wavered. She raised a hand regardless, trying to aim for their attackers while her world spun uncooperatively.
"Merek!" a woman's voice snapped, and a broad, tall shape dislodged itself from the blur to rush at Merlyn.
She blinked, and he was on her, grabbing a wrist and spinning her so she faced the opposite direction. Her legs folded at the abrupt movement and she slumped against him in disorientation as a slimmer, cloaked figure filled her vision. A rough, hessian bag was shoved over her head and she whined as the action sent a sharp spike down her neck, cringing towards the ground in an instinctive attempt to escape.
The one holding her grumbled and let her knees hit the ground before a rope was wrapped around her wrists to bind her hands at her back. She didn't fight as much as she could've, a little stunned from her injury and the suddenness of the attack. In a distant part of her mind, she was laughing hysterically at the familiarity of the scenario; the second time in less than three weeks that she was being kidnapped. This time she was sure Arthur would not come.
Merlyn swayed in the man's grip like an unsteady drunk and heard Gwen be restrained somewhere behind her.
"What're we doin' with this 'un here?" the third man grunted, his speech almost unintelligible with his rolled words.
"She's married," a woman's voice spoke, and Merlyn realised it was the slighter figure. Her voice was harsh, clear but sharp. "She'll be worth nothing in sales. Kill her."
"Can we have a little fun first?" the one holding her asked, his tone a dull droning slur. The one called Merek. Neither of the men appeared very bright but their innocent question held no kindness.
The woman sighed in resignation and Merlyn clenched her teeth. "Since you were so helpful, you can have her first – but that one goes untouched. Understood?"
There was a scuffle and the distinct sound of Gwen's whimpers and Merlyn clenched her bound hand into a fist. No.
No.
Magic spiked under her skin and when the man holding her tried to lift her to her feet, she thrust herself upwards and the top of her head collided with his chin. It radiated over her crown like the strike of a hammer, spikes of agony drilling into her skull, but she twisted out of his loose grasp as he automatically jerked away. She felt the crackle of energy over her fists and she pulled her arms apart as the rope frayed beneath the onslaught of her anger.
She ripped the bag off her head and was glad to note that ire had sharpened her vision enough to see individual objects. To see her enemies.
Gwen was pressed back against the other man, his meaty hands wrapped around her front as he groped her savagely. He was staring at Merlyn dumbly, blinking as she let the lightning beneath her skin crackle in the air, her hair rising with static. The woman was a little smarter, crossbow raised, and arrow directed at her heart, though her expression was terrified as she acknowledged its inadequacy. The man she'd smashed in the chin was on his knees with his hands cupping his face, blood dribbling from his mouth. He looked far more shocked as he gazed at the blood than he did at her display.
But Merlyn was too angry to care. How dare they think they could hurt Gwen like that. How dare they think they could hurt anyone like that. And the woman! The woman allowed it! She, more than any man, should understand the utter depravity of such a debased act. The very real fear that they all lived with. Why would she condone it when she was just as vulnerable to the same attack?
"Let. Her. Go." She snarled at the man holding Gwen and he emitted a cry as energy snapped at his hands, leaping back from the curly-haired woman.
An arrow darted for Merlyn's thigh, but she had expected it and sliced it into twigs before it connected, shoving out her other palm and watching the woman be propelled into a trunk. She connected with a sickening crack and slumped to the ground at its base; still as death.
Both men released a cry and jerked as if to run to her side, but Merlyn threw out her arm and they, too, flew backwards with force. They did not rise. Merlyn turned her eyes on her friend.
"Gwen," she whispered brokenly, hurt at seeing the stalwart woman hunched in on herself as if to protect her body from ghosts. Tears trickled down her flushed cheeks, but she met the black-haired girl's eyes with resilience.
"I'm alright, Merlyn," she sniffled, uncurling herself and wiping her face. Her eyes darted to the downed figures. "Thank you."
"Do not say that," Merlyn hissed, stumbling to her side and dropping to her knees beside her kneeling friend, Gwen's figure warbling in and out of focus. "They were after me. I put you in danger – I should have realised Hengist would do something like this. Kendrick warned me when I escaped, but I thought he was saving face when he realised he had lost. I didn't…" She tucked her chin, ashamed at ignoring the blatant threat. "I haven't even thought about it with everything going on."
Gwen touched her shoulder comfortingly but let her words sit unanswered. There was little she could do to ease Merlyn's guilt. "We should move on," she said instead, and pushed herself to her feet. Merlyn closed her eyes, head spinning at the thought of moving. "We do not want to be here when other travellers come across this scene."
She was right, of course, and Merlyn took a steadying breath before she, too, climbed upright, a little wobblier than her friend. "Our horses are gone," she said forlornly. "We will have to make the rest of the journey afoot."
Gwen tucked her hands into the folds of her dress and pulled out a small purse that tinkled with coin. Despite this find, the curly-haired woman looked a little disappointed. "It is not enough for a room come nightfall," she stated, peering into its depths.
"Everything of mine was atop Hotshot," Merlyn admitted contritely, too used to Sunstrider's loyalty to consider the risk of losing a steed. A stupid misstep in hindsight. She lifted a hand and pressed it to her throbbing head, avoiding the sharp points of pain carefully.
"We should travel off the main road," Gwen suggested, casting her eyes to their surroundings. "This was the second attack in twelve hours. It is unsafe for you to be seen."
With weak fingers, Merlyn untied her neckerchief and unfolded it so it could tie around her head, hiding her dark hair and larger-than-normal ears. It wasn't the best disguise, but it might dissuade unwanted eyes for long enough.
Gentle hands touched Merlyn's shoulder and the black-haired girl squinted at Gwen with pained eyes. "Will you be able to walk?"
She was going to have to, one way or another. "I'll be alright," she murmured, trying not to think of the journey ahead of them. Nausea sat thick in her throat, making her tongue swell, but she managed to control it with careful breaths, wishing the black spots edging the corners of her vision would ease as well.
"Let us go," she murmured, and the pair trudged forward slowly.
At this rate, she could only hope on her return that Arthur would hear her out over sending her to directly to the gallows, for the time-limit on his ultimatum will have certainly lapsed. And she still had to find a way to free the dragon before she was unable.
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Gwen could do little more than hold Merlyn's hair as she vomited into a nearby clump of grass. The poor girl was very obviously concussed, two tight knots forming beneath her raven mane as random bouts of dizziness and nausea besieged her weakened frame.
Gwen was not a healer or physician, but she understood – as did every sensible adult – that head injuries were serious, and within them lurked unseen danger. She hoped the damage was not so bad that the younger girl would slip into unconsciousness, knowing those instances required immediate attention from a physician. As it was, she wouldn't turn away even a wet rag for Merlyn's sweaty face.
She wished Lancelot were here.
She had refused to look upon the bodies as they'd moved away, the sight of their still chests twisting something inside her belly, but she had worked up the nerve to grab the abandoned crossbow and quiver from near the woman, her need to be armed outweighing her aversion to seeing the dead.
Admittedly, she didn't know how to wield a bow, but she hoped any travellers would be apprehensive to take advantage of her situation while she held it. With the kind of journey they'd faced so far, it seemed a safe bet to keep.
She brushed back Merlyn's hair as the spasms seemed to ease, panting breaths all that was left of the girl's bout. Merlyn wiped her teary eyes and spat the sourness from her mouth.
"I'm alright now," she mumbled, a grimace on her face. Gwen wished she had a water skin to offer but settled for helping her move away from the mess as she withheld a sigh.
"You are anything but alright, Merlyn. You need to be seen by a physician."
Merlyn chuffed as they continued on their trek, stepping over branches and sticks and shrubs of the forest that grew beside the road. They were only a few metres from the thoroughfare, following its path so they didn't lose their way, but it was sufficient cover to remain unnoticed as the vegetation remained dense. It was, however, terrible on their attire, shredding the hems and catching on threads so their dresses were soon picked to tatters, spattered with mud flicked up by heels from the recent rain. And, of course, ended at the banks of a quickly-flowing river. The road continued on over a bridge, but to cross it themselves meant to leave the security of the trees. On a good day, the waters could be navigated by a horse and rider, but the recent rain had swelled its banks and churned the water into a muddy hazard.
"We need to get back onto the road," muttered Merlyn, staring at the branches bobbing along with the swift current and imagining the other dangers hidden beneath.
"We will move quickly," Gwen stated, eyeing her friend apprehensively. She doubted Merlyn could move much faster if she tried. She was trying to disguise the depths of her injuries, but the curly-haired woman could see how her eyes were glazed, her skin sallow, and her balance undecided. If Gaius were here, Merlyn would be on strict bedrest.
Gods… she wanted Lancelot.
The vegetation was too thick to simply step from their path and onto the bridge, so they retraced their path until they came upon a crack in the foliage – a deer track – and let it lead them to the road. From there, there was little they could do to remain hidden but be swift.
They trudged over the bridge without seeing a soul, only to find the forest edging the road beyond was lined by thorny brambles. The wild shrubs had taken advantage of the easy sun and had grown into large sentinels beside the road, leaving no easy way back into the trees.
Merlyn lifted her neckerchief and wrapped it over her hair and ears once more, but as her strength began to wane, Gwen worried that it mattered not if her identity was hidden, for they were easy prey to any man seeking violent release. She hitched the black-haired girl onto an arm so she didn't fall behind, and tried to ignore the lengthening shadows as the sun tipped to the west, concentrating on putting one foot before the other as her friend slowly deteriorated at her side.
It was then that they were happened upon by a most unexpected presence.
"Excuse me misses, are you two alright?" a man asked and Gwen, who had zoned into a listless stupor with her repetitive movements, jolted like she'd been zapped by static. Her head shot up and she blinked in surprise at the image of a tall, muscular young man mere steps away, bearing the reins of two fully tacked steeds. Two very familiar, fully tacked steeds.
"They're our horses!" she exclaimed, nudging Merlyn, who barely responded as she sagged into her friend's shoulder. "How came you by these?"
The young man glanced back at the two beasts with a shrug. "I was hunting through the forest and came across them eating within a glade. It is not so uncommon near the main roads. I was going to turn them to the nearest inn…"
Gwen finally took in his full appearance. A sharpened branch and a battered sword were strapped across his back with rope while his weathered tunic had no sleeves, displaying biceps that bulged from his arms. His skin was tanned a soft bronze and his close-cropped honey-brown hair framed a boyish face and square jaw; a contradiction of child and adult. He looked like a warrior playing at peasantry and it made her nervous.
"Well," she cleared her throat as her voice warbled. "There is no need now. I thank you for finding them."
He nodded slowly, his blue gaze tracking from Gwen to Merlyn, whose head drooped towards her chest in exhaustion. His brows furrowed, seemingly in concern. "Is she unwell?"
"She is as well as can be expected given the circumstances."
"The nearest inn is almost an hour east unless you backtrack over the bridge. I can –"
"No," Gwen interrupted firmly, the thought of an unknown man dogging their path sending shivers up her spine. "We will be fine on our own."
"I assure you, I mean no harm." He said it in a gentle, sincere tone.
"That does little to reassure me. I know not what your word is worth."
"More than some," he assured, and held out the reins. "A token of my respectability: your horses, returned to you with no cost to you nor harm to them."
She eyed him warily, but reached out and took the leathers, remaining tense even when he did nothing more than take a step back. She didn't know what, exactly, she expected him to do – perhaps jump at her or shout boo – but there was no relief when he didn't. The recent incident was too raw for her to relax.
Still… that didn't eliminate her manners.
"Thank you," she murmured, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement.
"Merlyn," she called quietly, nudging the girl lightly to draw her from her mind.
She flinched, and her head lifted as if disturbed from slumber. Her brow was pinched with discomfort, and her eyes narrowed like the light was causing them to ache, but she managed to stare at the stranger in front of them without blinking.
"Who are you?" she asked, as if only just realising he was there. Her gaze flicked to Gwen and their surroundings as clarity slowly reasserted itself in her expression.
"Percival, Miss," he replied. "Would you like a hand mounting your steed?"
Merlyn's eyes flicked to Hotshot then back to Gwen before she swallowed and said, "That would be welcome."
It was obvious she was disorientated but Gwen preferred to wait until they had a little space from Percival before she spoke with Merlyn. The ball of anxiety living in her belly also helped stay her tongue. There was much too much risk in this situation as it was, she didn't want to go about pointing it out.
The curly-haired woman kept a sharp eye on Percival as he legged Merlyn into the saddle, pleased to see his touch remained chaste and he didn't leer at her proximity. He also saved the unsteady girl's seat when she lurched too far to the other side, the abrupt change in position unsettling her balance. Her face was pale, expression pinched with pain as her breath laboured, and she clutched at the pommel with both hands, foregoing the reins entirely.
Once it was clear she was going to remain in place, Percival let go of her boot, and Gwen graced him with a tight smile. "I thank you for your aid; your kindness will be remembered."
He hesitated, looking like he wanted to argue, but he quickly ceded to her desires, giving a short bow. "I wish you care upon the road." He glanced to Merlyn and added, "The innkeeper's wife is named Drysi. She will help tend to your ails."
Gwen nodded and took Merlyn's slack reins before mounting her own horse. The black-haired girl could concentrate on staying on, Gwen would guide them to where they needed to be.
She clicked her tongue and Streaker moved forward, Hotshot falling into step when he felt the pressure on the bit. Gwen cast one more glance back at Percival then faced forward and refused to look again. Let him just be a kind stranger to remind her that the world wasn't full of predators. Nothing more, nothing less.
As it was, she had no intention of going to the inn he suggested. The last thing she wished for was a repeat of the last inn at which they lodged. No. Camelot was not too far. They would make it if they continued into the night; she would make sure of it.
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Merlyn's awareness returned in dribs and drabs the longer they travelled, consciousness sharpening like a dull blade worked against a sword grinder. The pain in her head throbbed a little less, which helped her concentration, but light still pressed into her eyes with irksome persistence, causing an entirely different type of headache.
She did attempt to straighten herself up when they passed travellers, unwilling to appear an easy target, and she did so again when the sound of thundering hooves grew ever closer from ahead. There was no forest on this stretch of land, the road paved between two gentle pasture hills with only a lone tree or two providing shade; there was plenty of room for the speeding rider to pass, but not much of an escape should he turn out to be malevolent.
With all her calculating, it caught her by surprise when the rider came into sight.
"Lancelot!" Gwen cried breathlessly, recognising the curly-haired knight at the same time as Merlyn.
The man recognised them also, sitting into his seat to slow his mare from her fast canter and into a trot, pace dropping further until he dismounted and led her by the rein.
"Guinevere," he replied warmly, the woman dismounting as well so they met on the ground. Lancelot touched a kiss to her lips before leaning their foreheads together in relief.
"Lancelot," Gwen murmured again, the tenderness of her tone expressing her affection better than a declaration. She closed her eyes, seeming to soak in his presence before he drew back and turned a bittersweet smile upon Merlyn, his hand maintaining a grip on Gwen's.
The woman drew his attention again with her question, "What are you doing here?"
"I received your note," he said. "And Arthur gave me leave after I returned." His eyes flicked to Merlyn. "I think he knew I would search you out."
"To what end?" Merlyn asked, fear spiking in her belly. She glanced behind him, almost expecting a troop of soldiers to come pouring from around the bend, ready to drag her back to her execution.
"No announcement has been made," he assured her, seeming to read her thoughts. She stared at him, worry barely abated, and he added carefully, "It was almost… he appeared resigned to your disappearance. Almost relieved you were gone."
Merlyn said nothing, no answer appearing in her mind, for what could she say?
Gwen turned to Merlyn, who was still upon her steed. "This is your chance," she said, and the black-haired girl knew immediately what she meant. "You can return to your mother's, forget all about Camelot and Arthur and that accursed Cuff. You can go home."
Slowly, Merlyn shook her head, her insides stinging like little ants were biting her bones. "Camelot is my home," she murmured. "My place is by Arthur."
"You are worth too much to let him dictate your actions and emotions as he has been. You told me that this Cuff might take your spirit – you will become a husk of your former self."
"I… I cannot," she whispered, the very idea causing her to tremble. "Something in me warns not to leave. I know not… I know not if it is wishful thinking or something more, but I am unwilling to test it." She met their eyes, pleading with them to understand. "Even without this inkling, I doubt Arthur will not let me vanish without a hunt and I refuse to risk my mother, or Gaius, or you and Lancelot by leaving you to deal with his temper. Not if there is another way."
"Is this another way?" Lancelot challenged gently. Merlyn hated the worry straining his features. "Shackling yourself like an unruly beast… possibly signing your death warrant with this act… Merlyn, there has to be another choice."
"Perhaps there is," she agreed quietly, dropping her gaze as terror and guilt and anxiety bubbled like an overflowing cauldron in her belly. "But this is the only way I see ahead without Arthur condemning magic forever. If I run… if I do not return, he will use it to fuel his hatred as his father does with whatever memory plagues his mind. Arthur refuses to see the truth right now, but I have hope… I must have hope that my compliance will force him to accept sorcerers are not simple-minded fiends to be vanquished; that sorcery is not the monster to be feared."
"For your sake, I want this to be true," Gwen said softly. "For if it is not, you are sacrificing yourself for nothing."
Merlyn looked down, no response forming in her mind. She did not speak of the tentative faith living in the corners of her heart which believed Arthur would stop before actually committing the Cuff to her flesh. She did not speak of it because it was challenged by a doubt that begged her to do as they asked, and Merlyn feared their scepticism would only encourage that uncertainty to grow. She would not flee.
"There is a tavern a few miles back where we can rest for tonight," Lancelot said, interrupting her thoughts. "We can continue the final leg of the journey in the morn."
"Merlyn will need to be seen by a healer," Gwen said, and Merlyn sent her a look of betrayal.
"Are you unwell?" asked Lancelot, raking over her form with concern.
"She suffered a concussion," the woman continued over Merlyn's protests. "She is only partially recovered."
"I'm alright!" she defended, hand reaching up to touch the tenderness at her crown.
"You will ride at my side," the knight insisted, and she sighed but conceded, too tired to waste energy on needless arguments.
Gwen, on the other hand, forewent her own steed in favour of mounting up behind Lancelot, wasting no time wrapping her arms around his waist. She whispered something into his ear that elicited a blush and then they were away.
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The innkeeper's wife was knowledgeable in herbs, and she tended to Merlyn while Lancelot and Gwen left to freshen up in the room they were all to share. Merlyn had no plans to follow before supper, unwilling to chance scarring images, so she was already eating by the time they joined her at the small table. She ignored the distinctly dishevelled hair Gwen sported, though a smirk did play on her lips when meeting her friend's eyes. The curly-haired woman blushed and lightly smacked her arm in reproach.
Merlyn felt much better than she had that morning, her magic naturally expediating her healing, but it took a toll, and she was both ravenous and sleepy. She wasted no time after her meal in heading to bed, tailed closely by the other two, who were obviously as weary as she. Lancelot tried to be chivalrous and give the bed to the black-haired girl to share with Gwen, but Merlyn made a point of transfiguring a spare shirt into a thin pillow and pulling the extra blanket off the bed. When she flopped down onto the floor, drew the blanket up to her ears, and simply ignored the brown-haired knight, he gave in with an amused sigh.
She didn't roll over until she heard them settled under the blankets and stop shuffling, positioning herself onto her back and gazing up at the wooden roof. Several minutes passed in silence as her blinks grew longer and her thoughts rolled into dreams. She didn't remember falling asleep, but it felt like a blink before the dawn light was creeping through the hastily closed curtains, drawing her back into the waking world. It wasn't much longer before her friends also arose, and they grabbed a quick breakfast before travelling the last leg of the journey back to Camelot. She couldn't help the tension that stiffened her posture, and her back ached by the time they clattered over the drawbridge into the city. As they passed under the gatehouse, Merlyn imagined the spikes of the portcullis as the teeth of a volatile beast, and she the sacrifice to appease its bloodlust. Lancelot guided them through the lower town and bustling markets, through the upper town and directly into the courtyard. Merlyn searched for it, but found no pyre being prepped.
There were two guards waiting at the bottom of the staircase into the castle, however, and they barely waited for the travellers to draw to a halt before stepping forward to grip the reins of Merlyn's steed. "Apologies, Sir Lancelot," said an unfamiliar guard – the insignia on his tunic denoting him as a captain. "Prince Arthur has ordered that Merlyn be escorted to his chambers as soon as she returned."
Merlyn's heart started to pound, and she couldn't stop the minute trembling of her hands. Lancelot spoke from beside her, the disapproval clear in his tone; "Merlyn requires a physician; surely you can inform the Prince to expect her once she has been tended."
The captain looked rueful but unmoveable as he replied, "Prince Arthur was very specific. No delay; no side ventures. The physician can be summoned to his chambers once she has been delivered."
Lancelot pursed his lips, but Merlyn decided it was time to take the bull by the horns. "I will be alright," she reassured quietly, swinging her leg over the saddle in dismount. She was ready for the buckle of her knees and tightened her grip on the saddle until she was steady. The night's sleep had allowed her to recuperate from the worst of her concussion, but the apprehension over what awaited her compounded on the fatigue of a long ride and wore on her already stressed body.
"I'm alright," she muttered as one of the guards stepped forward to support her, shying away from his proffered hand.
She took a breath and let her eyes run over her companions, seeing the set of their jaws and the fire flashing in Gwen's dark eyes. Merlyn turned away before the other woman could say something that might sway her waning courage. Causing a scene with an escape attempt would definitely not end in her favour.
"Come," said the other guard, one she recognised as Edmund, and he shadowed her up the staircase and through the grand double doors.
After a short stretch of silence, he asked with humour, "So, what did you do this time?"
She shot him a look and asked challengingly, "What makes you think I did something?"
Edmund's grin was unhindered by her attitude as he explained, "It's always the servant's fault. Can't very well accuse the Crown Prince of a temper tantrum, can we?"
She scoffed at his cheek. "I do it all the time. How do you expect a child to learn if you never show him how to act appropriately?"
He laughed, and she let the sound roll over her, clenching her hands into fists to stop their shaking. Damn nerves.
He guided her all the way to Arthur's chambers, knocking on his door primly.
"Enter," Arthur's voice called, and Merlyn had the sudden, irrational urge to flee.
"Go on," nudged Edmund once the door was opened. "Best to get it over with quickly."
"Says the one who doesn't have to face him," she hissed but the door was shut behind her before she could shoot him a glare.
She hovered in the doorway, staring at Arthur, who stood by his writing desk, though it didn't appear he had been doing much work. She hadn't spoken with him since he'd made his ultimatum, but it didn't appear much had changed – though what would in a week?
"You are overdue," the prince said in lieu of a hello and she swallowed nervously.
"My journey was delayed unexpectedly," she explained. "We lost our horses when we were beset by bandits." She said nothing on the bounty that brought her to their attention, deciding he didn't need to know that titbit.
"And where exactly did you journey? With Guinevere in tow, no less."
"That's Gwen's business," Merlyn replied definitively, though her voice trembled the slightest bit. "You will have to ask her."
"Hmm," Arthur hummed noncommittally and looked down to where his fingers were tapping against the wood of his desk. Merlyn couldn't gauge his expression, but she didn't have to wait long for him to speak; Arthur wasn't one for beating around the bush.
"I had thought for a while there… that you had fled the city," he commented, glancing up to watch her, and Merlyn blinked in surprise at the confession. He added at her expression, "But it didn't cross your mind, did it?"
She was unsure on what she was supposed to say; Arthur was acting rather odd. Tolerant; casual.
"I searched your room when you did not return," he continued, and Merlyn suddenly realised where he was leading. His next words confirmed it: "I was surprised when I came upon this."
He held up the iron band, smooth shadow-grey metal on the outside with tiny clusters of runes engraved with painstaking detail on the inside, banded together with an ancient knot design. "I also found this," he added, replacing the Cuff and picking up a scrap piece of parchment with the necessary runes to be transcribed onto the metal scribbled upon it. "It's complete, isn't it?" he asked, gesturing with his chin to the object. "I could find no symbols upon the parchment not already etched onto the band."
Merlyn's hands were quivering, neck prickling with cold sweat; the mere sight of the metal bracelet had her gut roiling with unease. But she set her shoulders resolutely and admitted, "Yes. It's complete."
"Then why," he began, moving away from the desk and approaching with measured steps, fingers curling around the Cuff to bring it along. "Are you not wearing it?"
"I – I was…" she gulped compulsively. What could she say? "I was hoping that you would change your mind."
His gaze bore into her, searching for something in her eyes, something in her soul. "Why would I do that now?" he asked softly. "Why would you expect me to change my mind when the only step left is to place this upon your wrist. By far the easiest task of them all."
He lifted the Cuff between them, the mere proximity causing Merlyn's gut to curl. She subconsciously leaned back, its essence rubbing against her senses like sandpaper, but her eyes refused to move off the offensive curve of metal.
"Please don't," she blurted on a whisper when he moved it closer, seeming to test her composure.
Surprisingly, he obeyed, arm falling back to his side as a heavy frown crinkled his brow. Strangely, it didn't appear to be one of anger.
"Why did you come back?"
The unexpected question caught her off guard. He sounded… disappointed.
"I…" what should she say? "I…" she licked her lips, unsure how to express her mind. "When I came to this city, I was told of a future wherein the magical and nonmagical coexisted in harmony. I was told that I was able to help this time come to pass. And… that the one to rule this golden era… was you."
Arthur scoffed, expression twisted with disbelief and uncertainty, though he remained silent.
She nodded at his scepticism, a wry smile upon her lips. "I, too, rebelled against those words. I did not believe in destiny, or fate. I'm unsure even now, but I saw something in you, Arthur. Beneath your arrogance and condescension –"
He made a strangled noise of protest, and she cracked a genuine smile.
"You cannot deny my words," she challenged, and he pursed his lips but kept quiet. Her grin turned to a smirk of triumph to which he glared playfully before the seriousness of their situation settled back onto her shoulders. The uncertainty in the room pressed into her body as if the very air condensed around her frame, belly churning like a sea stirred by a storm.
"You are a good man, Arthur," she said softly. "A good prince, but there is so much you need to unlearn before you can be a good king."
"And who are you to try to change me?" he demanded, sounding both defensive and vulnerable. "Who are you to suppose the merits of a good ruler?"
She shrugged, hands held out in helplessness. "I am no one. I am a servant. I am one of the people." She shrugged again, unsure of what to say. It was a question she had asked herself since the beginning. "I only know what lies before me, and of the virtue of kindness. I have seen the goodness you can pour into the world, and of its effects on your people. And… I have seen your cruelty. I know intimately just how much that can harm." His eyes darted away, as if instinct shamed him with the truth. His features – always so expressive, even when he tried to hide – twitched with remorse.
"Your father rules with fear," she said, a little vindicated by his reaction. He should feel badly, if he truly was the man she'd thought. It gave her the confidence to continue, toeing the line of treason with her words. "But fear lacks loyalty and breeds resentment. Your father may think he has made this kingdom strong, but he has created enemies where before there were none. If I had not remained – a creature of magic – within Camelot, then you and your city would have fallen long ago. I have these powers for a reason, Arthur, and it is not destruction."
"What of corruption?" he asked. "A rumour so pervasive as the one against sorcery cannot be simple fallacy. Such beliefs began long before the Purge and reach farther than the realm of the Five Kingdoms."
"A heart corrupted is not made pure with the gift of power," she stated. "Many who learn sorcery are led there by greed or vengeance – and such selfishness would hardly change in the face of laws," she added when Arthur opened his mouth to speak. "If one is so selfish as to study the arcane arts to hurt those around them, is it truly inconceivable that they would not do so, regardless of the laws? All the rules do is force those who would seek enlightenment and learning into hiding – not to mention lessen the means of defending the city against attack."
Arthur's gaze shifted away guiltily, and she realised his mind had run along similar tracks. Perhaps not that day, but once in the past. And that small doubt flitting across his face sparked her waning hope to life again, like a breath of air upon a smouldering ember.
"Give me time, Arthur, please," she beseeched. "Let me show you your father is wrong."
"No," he said with suddenness, his tone sharp and firm. She drew back at the unexpected turn and gulped, eyes instinctively dropping back to the Cuff held in his tight fist. Her arms drew protectively to her chest, fearing his next move.
His shaking head drew her attention and she saw his eyes were clenched shut, expression twisted into something pained.
"I… cannot betray my father," he said falteringly. "He is the King. I cannot… I will not divide my loyalties."
"What are you going to do?" she asked quietly, throat tight with dread, air rasping down into her lungs like it was being dragged along a saw.
His knuckles turned white with the strength of his grip upon the dull steel band and he abruptly thrust it towards her, causing her to jump in fright.
"Take it," he ordered, and she shivered, everything inside rebelling against his command.
He shook it with emphasis and said with more ferocity, "Take it!"
She did, swallowing bile as her fingers closed around the abominable metal. The pads of her digits felt the minute engravings of the Runes as she closed her fist and she almost spasmodically released it in revulsion. However, his next words halted her reaction.
"You are hereby banished," he said sternly. "I will give you until the end of the day to gather your belongings, but I want you back on the road to Essetir before nightfall. If you ignore my orders, I will inform my father and the consequences will be of your own making."
She stared, mouth agape, thoughts stunned into silence. "But… what? You… what? Banished?"
He moved away, back turned to her as if to shield his expressions. He said shortly, "Too many things I hear contradict each other and I cannot – I cannot trust my own mind. Are these thoughts my own or do you influence them as others have done?" He held up his hands, palms skyward to stare at them. "My senses don't seem befuddled; I feel clear-headed, but how am I to know? How can I trust myself when I have succumbed in the past?"
"I would never trick you like that," Merlyn defended, wounded that he would believe her capable.
He spun, eyes a little wild. "But how am I to know? You word is not enough. The words of a sorcerer are more dangerous than any other; you could be whispering lies into my ears and I would never know."
She shook her head desperately, his capricious uncertainty unsettling. "I would never!"
"And I cannot trust a single word you say!" he retorted then turned away as he scrubbed at the back of his head in frustration. "I cannot work out if you are a seductress trying to lay claim to the throne through me, or simply stupid." Merlyn recoiled at his words, confused and hurt at his suggestion. He noticed and said with a glare, as if she should already know his thoughts; "Your actions –" he flapped a hand at her, "– our kiss. Why would you act as you did when you know who I am; who my father is. I have been trying to work it out for months. Are you manipulating me? Are you naïve? Malicious? Witless?"
"I am none of those things," Merlyn spat. "I am, foremost, your servant, as I have been since the first time I saved your life. If nothing else, remember that! Knowing exactly how arrogant you were, how little regard you held for those beneath you, I still stopped a grieving woman from exacting vengeance upon your father through you."
"Then your actions make little sense!" he said, looking utterly perplexed. "You cannot… I mean – surely you couldn't…" He huffed, irritated with his inability to articulate himself. "I cannot understand why you believe I am worthy of your protection, regardless of what some… stranger spouted about a prophesised future. It is ridiculous."
"I thought so too," she agreed bluntly. "I had met you, I had seen your arrogance. I did not think you were worthy of special attention – not when so many already gave it. But… you won me over. You may be layered with condescension, pride, and ignorance, but… strip away everything you learned to be and, at your core, you are compassionate … generous… protective. Truthfully, I scarcely care for some future foretold. Such words hold little weight with me. I believe, first and foremost, in you; in what you can become if you let yourself break away from the strictures of your father's opinions. He may be a great king, Arthur, but you… you are going to be good."
Tears pricked her eyes, the raw admission making her feel naked to his judgement. Things she had held so close to her chest, the wavering, sputtering faith she had put in him, dug up from the deepest pits of her heart and thrown, bare, before his feet. Emotion swelled like a tide in her throat, but she swallowed it down forcefully, taking deep breaths to control herself. This was no time to start crying.
Arthur seemed unable to form words, lips parted with the shock of her honesty. Time stretched between them, his expression slowly morphing from wide-eyed astonishment to something… softer. Pained.
Finally, he found his voice.
"You give me too much credit," he said, sounding like gravel had been shoved down his throat. "And I am not yet King. While my father sits on the throne, I must obey his laws, or this kingdom will fall into chaos. Yet…" he shook his head, looking away. "You have been loyal to me, whatever your reasons, whatever your motives… I cannot subject you to a witch's execution until I can trust my own opinions. Therefore –" he swallowed hard, "– I stand by my decision. While my father rules Camelot, you are not welcome here, Merlyn of Ealdor. Return to your mother and never come back. Guards!"
"What? But –"
Two guards threw open the door, weapons at the ready. Arthur gestured to Merlyn. "Escort her to the Physician's Chamber to gather her belongings, then guide her to the stables where she will retrieve her horse and ride from the city. Once beyond the gates, she is no longer welcome here. Do I make myself clear?"
"Er, yes sire," said one, eyes wide with confusion and shock.
"Arthur…" Merlyn whispered in devastation. "Don't do this."
"It is done," he said firmly, and the two guards approached and ushered her from the room. They were kind enough not to manhandle her as they could have, but their hands were solid upon her shoulders. Her last view of Arthur was as he turned away, head bowed to hide his face.
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So... Not dead. Just moved house and job. Again. This time up the coast instead of down. Currently living out of my suitcase at a friend's place but this time, work seems to be, well, working out.
I've been slogging through this story whenever I get a chance - it really only took me so long to post again because I had to find time to proof read the chapter T_T
Hope you liked. Things pick up from the next chapter - which will be up sooner than this one, I can promise you that much.
Much love!