xvi.

Merlin stared down the queen with a straight face.

"What makes you say that?" he asked. In truth, he did not care if Guinevere knew what he really was, though Arthur would be furious. But Arthur wasn't there any more, so what did it matter?

"Arthur said you were a traveler. But you came with no rucksack, no goods to pawn, nothing a traveler would need to survive. And I don't see how a traveler's knowledge could help protect the city if magical armies descended upon it."

Merlin grinned, thinking of all the times Arthur had tried to brush off his behavior and Guinevere's silent, watchful eyes were digging into him the whole time. When he said nothing, Gwen continued.

"You're a magic-user, aren't you? A warlock."

Merlin had never heard that word before. He was glad Guinevere more or less defined it for him, but there was a lot left to chance. Was a warlock a human magic-user, or a fairy? Did warlock mean solely those who used blood magic? Merlin did not want to be associated with such magic. "I know magic, yes," he said instead, slowly.

Guinevere huffed an angry sound that hissed through her teeth. "Were you ever going to tell me? Was Arthur?"

Merlin's silence answered for him. She threw her hands up and stormed across the room. "Unbelievable! And what—you were going to magically defend Camelot and no one would notice? How does he think one man can save the whole city? And as soon as it is known you use magic the people will rise up and demand you thrown into the dungeon! Or worse, executed! How could he let you stay here in good conscience, with no one on your side?"

"Wait, so…" Gwen halted and glared at Merlin. He raised his palms amicably. "You're not going to kick me out?"

"No! Why would I?"

"Because… magic is illegal, according to Arthur. And I might be dangerous." He was dangerous, but he wouldn't tell Gwen that.

"Arthur doesn't even trust the falconer lightly. If he trusts you and let you stay in the castle, especially when he's gone, I have no reason to distrust you. But—how did he find you?"

Merlin laughed. "He didn't find me. I found him."

"How did you convince him to trust you, then?"

"I saved his life a couple times." He said it so casually that Gwen nodded before the meaning sunk in.

"Wait—what? When?"

"When all those knights died. And..." Arthur hadn't wanted Gwen to know. "In the forest, after that." It wasn't a lie.

The queen's eyes narrowed. He thought for sure she would question him more. Instead she said, "Teach me about magic."

Merlin blinked. "Really?"

"Yes. If we are truly waging war against another sorcerer, I want to be prepared and know what to expect." Merlin couldn't help the smile spreading across his face. "Meet me in Arthur's study room after supper."

"If you insist," Merlin said with a bow.

He hadn't been in Arthur's study room since his first lessons with the king. He was surprised to find Gwen already there. She sat with a cat curled in her lap, staring out the window and stroking it absently. The cat lifted its head as Merlin approached. He saw its first instinct in the way it tensed to spring, but as he drew closer and the cat sensed his nature, it relaxed and laid its head back down.

"Waiting for someone?" Merlin asked, and Guinevere startled.

"Oh, Merlin! You are so quiet." She furrowed her eyebrows at the cat. "Rohesia never tolerates another person's presence… I cannot believe she is undisturbed."

"Animals like me." Merlin shrugged and perched onto the chair opposite Gwen. "Shall we start?" he asked before she got any more inquisitive about the cat's ease.

Guinevere took in all his information much more easily than Arthur. Her questions were critical, in-depth. When she repeated information back to him, she got it near perfect.

"You are a much better study than Arthur," Merlin commented after she grasped in an hour what Arthur had taken days to understand.

Guinevere's laugh was delicate and guilty. "He hates studying. Or anything to do with words on paper. Which is, unfortunately, most of a king's job. But you'll never meet a better conciliator or military strategist."

Merlin couldn't place the strange weight in his chest to a feeling. He tried to dismiss it but Guinevere noticed the way his eyes darkened.

"Is something wrong?"

He met her gaze. He didn't know how such oak-brown eyes could be both warm and sharp. He opened his mouth, but paused. If he asked the question on his mind, in light of her recent discovery, she would surely know he was not human. He thought, for Arthur's sake, he had to try, at least a little, to keep it secret. So instead he asked, "Did you always love him? From the moment you two met?"

"Oh," Gwen laughed. "No, not at all. I was a lady's maid here in the castle. I thought he was the most pompous, spoiled jackass to ever live."

"Glad to hear he gives off that impression to everyone," Merlin muttered, which made Gwen laugh more. He couldn't help but smile along. Her laughter was like the soft petals of bluebells, vibrant and beautiful.

"I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him. But then… at some point I saw another side to him. He could be sweet and compassionate, and he cared so strongly for his men and kingdom. I think that was my undoing." She smiled at Merlin, but a moment later it softened with a note of sorrow.

"Oh, I already miss him," she whispered.

To miss someone. Was that what Merlin felt? He didn't like thinking about it.

"Let's continue the lesson," he said, pushing everything else to the back of his mind. "You understand the elements, so I will explain their limitations."

They talked long into the night, Merlin's teachings occasionally interrupted with smatterings of conversation. Talking with Guinevere was much easier than talking to Arthur. She listened, for one thing, and her answers were always fair and laidback. She did not speak to him like she was above him, but as equals.

They would have continued into the hours of the morning if someone did not knock on the door.

"Your Majesty?" a tentative voice called.

"Oh, my lady's maid is waiting to prepare me for bed," Gwen sighed. She stood and smiled. "Thank you. I hope we can continue these lessons. I'd like to learn as much as possible. And I hope… well, I hope we can be friends, Merlin."

He crossed his legs up onto the seat and gripped his ankles. "I would like that," he said.

Arthur had told King Nicholas, the lords, and all his men to be on the lookout for an unusual black tree or anything they thought out of the ordinary. He was determined to be as prepared as possible for Gareth's magic tricks and seedy tactics. But they arrived at their first encampment late in the evening with no intrusions. Arthur put the sentry on double-shift and walked the perimeter with his guards. Satisfied, at least for the moment, he retired to his tent to look over the maps. Nicholas was camped a day's hike ahead, and in two days they were to meet. All of Leon's scouts confirmed Gareth's forces were headed towards them four days away.

Arthur couldn't rid the bubbling anxiety in his chest. He paced his tent, going over the times, the terrain, the strategies Gareth might employ and the strategies he could use to counter them. The camp cook came and left fresh loaf bread and beef stew—the last of such luxuries he would have for a while. Which turned Arthur's thoughts to inventory. He barely had two spoons before he was staring into the distance and going over the logistics of how much flour they brought, how many vegetables, how many men would need to be sent into the woods to hunt small game and sustain the legion. Usually an innocuous chore but with a dishonorable enemy like Gareth, forays into the woods could be a death sentence.

Finally Arthur stood and gave his food to the two guards outside his tent. "Rest and eat," he told them. Had they been his own knights they would have protested as he went off by himself into the trees, unconcerned about deference over duty just as Arthur had taught them. But all of his knights, save Leon, were dead. These men just took the bowl in wordless confusion and watched him leave.

He did not go far. When the camp fires were hidden by brush and the clamor of soldiers muffled to an echo, he stopped in the shadow of a large alder and waited. Insects buzzed around him and the heat of summer penetrated the night. An owl cooed in the distance. When two minutes had passed and there were no sounds of human movement, Arthur turned his attention to the tree.

"Tell Merlin…" he began to whisper to its bark, but stopped. He felt like a madman. He cleared his throat and looked around, though he knew no one was there to witness this bizarre scene. "Tell him to meet me half an hour past mid-night," he said at a normal volume. He paused, wondering how long it would take a message to reach Merlin all the way in Camelot. There weren't any trees in the castle, but Merlin knew that. He must have planned for that obstacle.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, questioning whether this would work at all. "Any night within the next three days, if he will not get the message tonight," Arthur amended. "I will wait up for him."

The leaves in the canopy rustled together, though Arthur felt no wind. He dismissed the thought from his mind before he lost all faith in his sanity and headed back to the camp.

The guards scrambled to their feet as he approached, looking guilty over the empty bowl as though they had stolen it.

"Make sure no one disturbs me past mid-night without announcing their presence," Arthur commanded. "I do not care who they are." He ducked into his tent and shut the entrance tight.

Merlin did not show up that night. Arthur finally went to bed when exhaustion weighed heavy on his eyes with each agonizing blink. He woke the next morning to Leon quarrelling with the guards outside.

He struggled out of his cot and tried to rub the bleariness from his face. He knew he still looked bedraggled when he called for Leon to enter.

"Your guards wouldn't let me in," he huffed as he shoved into the tent.

"Yes, apologies," Arthur said, waving his hand to dismiss the grievance. He didn't want to explain. "Everything is in order, I hope?"

"Yes, the men are dismantling camp. We will be ready to march in an hour. The scouts reported back, Gareth's army is still headed southwest towards Luitcott. We should meet them in three days' time." Arthur lifted his head from his hand and the look in his eye gave Leon pause. "What's wrong?"

"Have the fastest scouts ride to the direct east and west of King Nicholas's camp."

"Sire?" Leon inquired.

"Do it!" Arthur hissed. He was too tired for patience and pleasantries. Leon dipped his head and left. Arthur stood and called for a squire to help him into his armor. He should have known from last night, from the troubles plaguing his mind. He had never ignored his gut instinct before and he wasn't about to start now. They were marching straight into a trap.