The sun had just started to set when Anna concluded the games. The arena, of course, would have to be dismantled, but that was for tomorrow. For tonight, the people meandered cheerfully back to their homes. Erik escorted Anna to the door of her chambers and bid her good night.
"That was almost fun," Anna said, leaning against the closed door. Caradoc was already there, removing her armor piece by piece.
"Almost?" Caradoc teased, placing her gauntlets on the table. "You were so happy to be presiding that your father might actually allow tournaments again."
Anna smiled in silent acknowledgement as she took off her necklaces. She walked across the room to her bureau where she kept her jewelry. Finished removing her armor, Caradoc picked up the forgotten goblet from the table and peered inside it.
"Well, if nothing else," Anna said, moving to a basin of water, "we've at least proven the Captain's skill—I can't believe he beat you." She splashed water on her face.
"There's always somebody better," Caradoc said, raising the goblet in salute. Anna dried her face, and when she looked up from her towel, Caradoc, goblet to lips, was swallowing rhythmically.
"Well at least we know the potion works," Cole whispered to Sagremore.
"She was supposed to be gone," Sagremore said between clenched teeth. He stared across the throne room at Caradoc, who was leaning ever closer to Lord Erik.
"Do we try again?" Cole still whispered. A tense ambience pervaded the room. Various courtiers and councilmen conversed quietly in twos and threes, with an occasional glance toward the small circle of knights surrounding Lord Erik and the Princess's companion. More surreptitious glances were directed toward King Leodogran. A few servants waited discreetly against the walls, beside the torches and candles that lighted the room.
"No," Sagremore said, noting Leodogran's foreboding countenance as the king listened to the deliberations of those around him: his worried daughter, Blaise and his apprentice, Sir Bors, and the fair unnamed Captain.
"Make sure the page is destroyed," Sagremore addressed Cole, but his eyes followed the Lady Julia—she was the only one migrating around the room. "We'll leave this matter to those with greater finesse," Sagremore concluded.
"Julia hasn't tried anything yet," Cole said. "Maybe she has more faith in Lord Erik than we."
"It's not faith in Erik that's the problem," Sagremore said, looking at Princess Anna. Her face was filled with concern as she watched her friend.
Anna's brows furrowed, her gaze fixed on the circle half a room away.
Caradoc giggled audibly; Erik fidgeted.
Caradoc bit her lip and arched her body toward Erik; he glanced impatiently at Anna.
Anna ignored Erik; Caradoc continued to flaunt herself coquettishly.
"Maybe we should lock her in her room," Bors said to Anna.
"I did," Anna said, still watching Caradoc. "She got out."
"Erik seems to be handling her okay," Merlin said. "I mean, she's in love, she's hardly a threat."
Anna glared knives at Merlin.
"Depends on the potion," Blaise said firmly, calming Anna with a gentle hand on her arm.
"Do we know who did it?" Arthur watched Julia patrol the room.
Bors shook his head. "We'd have already arrested them," he said regretfully.
"I just want to know if we can lift it," Anna said.
"Not without knowing which potion was used," Blaise said.
"What about True Love's Kiss?" Merlin said.
"What about Rhona, the servant girl?" Arthur said. "Ask her who gave her the cup."
"True love's kiss isn't a guarantee," Blaise said. "It's too dependent on emotional nuance."
"Will it hurt to try?" Leodogran asked. "Caradoc does have . . . history here."
Blaise looked away. "I'd rather have certainties than hopeful guesses," he said quietly.
"Please, Blaise," Anna touched his arm.
"And what if it doesn't work?" Blaise asked.
"We can ask your servant Rhona where she got the goblet," Arthur reiterated.
"No, we can't," Anna snapped.
"Why. Not?" Arthur said.
"Because a noble gave it to her," Anna hissed.
Arthur started to reply, but found no adequate response.
"Wouldn't you listen to her?" Merlin asked Leodogran.
"And it would still be just a servant's word," Arthur said ruefully.
"One person's word against another's doesn't help," Leodogran said. "I need proof."
"There has to be something we can do," Arthur said.
They all looked over to Caradoc. She clung to Erik, her arms wrapped insistently around his neck. Erik tried to pull her off and back away—unsuccessfully.
"We can try to lift it blindly," Blaise sighed.
The spell was lifted with a kiss. Erik brought Caradoc into a private chamber where Anna, Blaise, Merlin, Arthur and King Leodogran waited. Caradoc felt confused and betrayed—until Blaise kissed her. All watched. But only Merlin thought the scene sweet and romantic—he thought he was seeing a softer, more vulnerable side to his stern and private teacher. Anna hoped desperately that the kiss would work; Erik stood dutifully beside her—his demeanor had turned to sympathy once he was no longer the object of unwanted attention. Leodogran also looked on apprehensively, while Arthur . . . Arthur locked his thoughts away, his face a cipher.
No longer afflicted by the potion, Caradoc blinked and steadied herself. Blaise ordered her to get some sleep and see him in the morning; Anna and Erik escorted her out, Anna wrapping a protective arm around her. Leodogran told Arthur to question the kitchen staff as well as any servant who might have come into contact with the goblet, without terrorizing anyone—Leodogran was adamant on that point. Arthur dutifully left, and Leodogran, after a thankful nod of approval to Blaise, followed after.
"Come," Blaise said to Merlin, "we have a goblet to clean."
"So: you and Cara," Merlin said once they'd entered Blaise's chambers. It was deep into the night, and Merlin had to light more candles—which he did gleefully using magic.
"No, not me and Cara," Blaise snapped. He picked up the goblet from the table where he'd laid it earlier in the evening, and once again sniffed it.
"True Love's Kiss doesn't lie," Merlin said.
"'True Love's Kiss' doesn't exist," Blaise said. "It's a myth made up by morons for imbeciles."
"Oh really. Then um how did you lift the spell?" Merlin sat down casually at the table.
Blaise banged the goblet on the table. "You know what I was going to do if I couldn't lift it?" He leaned in close to Merlin's face. "I was going to have Anna try. Or do you not think friendship counts as love? Real love has many forms, Merlin—it's not as narrow as your mind. And if you'd done your job like Anna asked, Cara wouldn't have been in this mess."
"And you wouldn't have had to face your fear that you're not her One True Love."
Blaise rounded on Merlin; Merlin held his ground, staring up at Blaise from his chair.
"Didn't you have some lesson about prioritizing other people's lives over your own comfort?"
"Someone tried to steal a woman's free will, and you think this is about love," Blaise seethed. "Yeah, I have a lesson for you. Now get out."
As soon as the sun hit the horizon word spread of the attempt on Princess Anna. The whole of Cameliard was rife with suspicion—and excitedly-whispered tales of What-Really-Happened. Arthur was determined to pull the truth from out of this morass, and thus interviewed every servant in the castle. He questioned Rhona first thing in the morning and several more times throughout the day. He questioned her as gently as he could, and he made sure to question others in between. It didn't matter. Her head fell further down her chest each time until Arthur was convinced she was talking to the specks of dust on the floor. She twisted the ends of her dirty sleeves, or worried a loose stitch on the side of her faded green tunic-skirt. Her responses shifted as well: t'was given to me, my lord became t'was in the kitchen where the Princess's food always gets put—a premise no one in the kitchen could confirm. Once she claimed her mind had wandered as 't often does, my lord, and she had simply realized she was carrying the goblet. Anna told him to stop, but Arthur knew Rhona saw who had personally placed the goblet in her own two hands. He cornered her one final time, and she blurted out I just wanted to help Cameliard—I didn't mean— and then became incomprehensible. Tears ran down her cheeks. Arthur finally put two hands on her shoulders to stop her broken, choking explanation. And still he had no proof.
As for Leodogran, he issued a public edict reminding his people that the use of love spells was a crime—a point he reiterated to his nobles in a fully-summoned court. Arthur glanced around during the King's speech, several times pausing on Anna's distant, indecipherable face. She was spending her day with Caradoc, who stood next to her in servant's attire and systematically studied the nobility. Lord Erik, who was as concerned as Leodogran, stood by the King before the court, ready to defend the Princess's honor. Yet Arthur's attention invariably fell on the Lady Julia, who stood prominent among the nobility and seemed, as far as Arthur could discern, impatient.
Later, Erik endured his Test of the Council—which he understood no more than Arthur—nor could either decide how Erik had fared.
Merlin, meanwhile, tried not to fall asleep throughout the day as he examined every book in Blaise's library. Blaise had charged him with finding a book with a torn page, on the assumption that whoever had made the love potion had stolen it.
"What if they stole a whole book?" Merlin asked. Or used their own, he thought.
"All my books are here."
Merlin looked up at the wall of filled shelves and wondered how Blaise could possibly be certain a single book wasn't missing, but he held his tongue.
"And if I find a book with a missing page, what then?" he asked instead. "What good does it do?"
"Maybe none," Blaise replied, his mind on other things.
"I'm being punished, aren't I?"
"You're being employed—now find the book."
And so Merlin flipped through book after book—many of which were duplicates, many in the same precise hand—and many of which were too interesting to put down. Merlin would lose himself in one only to get smacked by Blaise whenever he returned. At noon, a servant brought Merlin some food. As the day waned, Merlin's eyes grew dry and unfocused. He blinked often. When he lit every candle, the light seemed insufficient. But when Blaise returned in the early evening, Merlin had found a book with a page clearly ripped out.
"Now what?" Merlin said.
Blaise looked at the book, then at the bookshelf. He picked another one out and flipped through the pages. Merlin glanced over Blaise's shoulder to see that the book in Blaise's hand was a copy of the one with the torn page. Blaise found the spell, nodding as he read through it, satisfied that it was the potion in question. He put both books back on the shelf and then looked around his chambers—half his books were piled on tables and the floor, while the other half remained neatly organized on the shelves. One small pile of books was set aside from the others.
"Light reading?" Blaise said as he picked up the top one: Rhydderch Hael, History and Legend. "History?" Blaise raised an eyebrow and glanced at Merlin. "That's not your thing."
"I'm full of surprises," Merlin said. "Is it true?"
"Some of it—that's why it's called history and legend—sometimes all I got were colorful tales."
"You wrote it?"
"I gathered it."
"You copied a lot of these books," Merlin said with admiration, now that he didn't have to comb through them all.
"I preserved them. Are you interested in manuscripts?"
Merlin caught a change in the tone of Blaise's question and hesitated. "No," he finally said.
"Just spells of transformation?" Blaise held up another of Merlin's selection.
"It could be a useful thing to know."
"Hmm." Blaise moved the pile to a table. He chose, instead, a different book from another pile and then went to a cupboard full of parchment and vellum and several newly-stitched books. Blaise took one of these and handed both books to Merlin.
"Copy this," Blaise said, turning away. "It's also useful."
Merlin finally opened the books once he was in his own chamber room. One was on the gathering, use and preparation of herbs, and the other was blank. He turned to the first pages of both. An inkwell and quill lay on his table, but Merlin ignored them. Instead, he hovered one hand over the first page of the herb book, and his other over the blank page and recited a charm.
The blank page filled with the duplicated words and images of herb lore. Merlin smiled and turned the page. Holding his hands just above again . . . he paused, and looked down at the thickness of the book itself. He closed the books, placing a hand on each cover, and spoke a different spell.
As Arthur walked in.
"What are you doing?" Arthur stopped in the doorway, pointing to the books.
"Oh," Merlin looked at the books, "um, Blaise asked me to copy this book for him. Did you find out who made the love potion?"
"No," Arthur turned his back to close the door, and Merlin swiftly peeked inside the formerly-blank book to see it now filled with herb lore. He slammed it shut as Arthur turned around again.
"Did you find out anything?" Merlin asked.
"No," Arthur approached the table. "No one knows anything, and the number of people in Cameliard capable—is pretty much anyone who can read."
"What about Rhona?"
Arthur opened up the books and scanned the pages without really noticing them. "It's like she's been hurt by all this as much as Caradoc or Anna." He shut the books with a strange gentleness.
Merlin nodded sympathetically, and then asked, "How is Cara?"
"She blames herself for not paying attention." Arthur walked over to the window and peered out into the twilight—and closed the shutters. He glanced awkwardly at Merlin's books, and then washed his face in preparation for dinner.
Merlin flipped through the pages of the books, marking the perfection of the duplicate—it was an exact copy. He could've taken pride in it, but—
"Arthur, are we going to talk about this?" he said, still staring at the books.
"I'm not interested in herbs, Merlin."
"That's not what I mean." Merlin turned. Arthur splashed his face with water and grabbed a towel, contemplating it in his hands.
"How long have you been practicing magic?" he said to the towel.
"Well . . ." Merlin cleared his throat. "Let me think—the witch—priestess—whatever—Ninaeve—gave her mandate—"
"See, Merlin, this is why I don't want to talk about it—because you don't want to talk about it. Every time I ask you about yourself, you evade the question or give some vague nonsense. So why don't I just go away and let you finish 'copying' Blaise's book." He threw the towel at Merlin's head and slammed the door behind him.
Two servants were cleaning up Anna's bath when the Lady Julia walked into her chambers. Rhona was combing Anna's wet hair while Caradoc sharpened arrowheads.
"By all means, enter," Anna said.
Julia tilted her head to the two servants at the tub and they scurried out, each carrying a half-full bucket of dirty bath water—the tub had only a few inches remaining. Julia took the comb from Rhona's hand—Rhona bowed and left. Caradoc ignored Julia altogether. She placed the sharpened arrows in an armoire that held several types of bows as well as crossbows, arrows and bolts. Julia cleared her throat.
"Cara," Anna said, and Caradoc carefully closed the armoire doors; she eyed Julia as she left the room, shutting the door hard enough to send several candle flames flurrying.
"She needs to be careful," Julia said as she grasped the ends of Anna's hair.
"And your concern compels you to comb my hair?" Anna said.
Julia pulled the comb through the bottom inch of Anna's hair. Then she combed the bottom two inches, meticulously working her way up Anna's head.
"Lord Erik passed your little test," Julia said.
"Is that so?" Anna winced as Julia attacked a knot in her hair.
"He remembered your little friend is a woman and treated her with courtesy—"
"With condescension."
"—and respect."
"Respect?" Anna tried to turn around, but Julia held her head forward. "He ignored every skill Cara proved she had and acted like he was being forced to fight a child."
"He was responding to a child. You insulted him."
"I confused him. Is that what you think a king should be? Unable to adapt in the face of surprise?"
Julia sighed, gently drawing the comb through the full length of Anna's hair. "For such an intelligent girl—why is compromise so hard to understand?"
"Why is a king with a brain so wrong to expect?" Anna lowered her eyelids to stare at her hands. "Lord Erik needs his hand held."
"Then you hold it."
"Right," Anna jeered, "power in the shadows, I forgot." Julia ignored the taunt, and Anna turned in the chair to face her. "Do you really think that Erik, the gallant, the gracious, the courteous and courtly—the perfect noble knight—is going to listen to a woman? He'll only hear advice from an aged soothsayer—if it comes from an unconventional source . . ."
"Fine," Julia threw the comb in Anna's lap. "Erik has a few things to learn. But you don't know everything either. Now, when you're done being intransigent, your father and your guest are waiting."
Julia swerved on her heels, the hem of her gold-embroidered skirts shushing softly against the floor. She gave Anna a final admonishing glare and left; Anna picked up her comb and threw it against the closed door.
When Merlin stepped into Blaise's chambers the next morning, he found Blaise sitting at his writing table, transcribing a book. "You know, there's an easier way to do that," Merlin said, holding up both copies of the book of herbs.
"How much is a fatal amount of nightshade?" Blaise concentrated on his task.
"What? I don't know—you haven't told me. Any?"
"It's in the books you hold in your hands."
"You didn't mention—"
"That you were supposed to learn from the exercise?" Blaise looked up. "Magic isn't meant to be used to avoid hard work."
"I don't use magic to avoid work—I work plenty hard, trust me," Merlin sat down.
Blaise blew on the page he'd just transcribed, coaxing the ink to dry. "Don't get comfortable," he said. "We are testing Lord Erik today."
Merlin sat forward eagerly in his seat. "So what did you decide to do?"
Blaise just said to get you—and to hurry.
It was all Arthur could tell Erik as they rushed down the corridor, the urgency in their steps rising as they neared Anna's chambers. Outside of which Caradoc waited—she opened the door for them.
Both Erik and Arthur had reached for the pommels of their swords, ready to draw and fight as they burst into the room. Caradoc quietly closed the door behind her and stood at attention near the wall. She was dressed in black, her trousers tucked into her scuffed boots, a sword at her side and a knife at her back. But she was calm.
And only Blaise and Merlin faced them. Erik and Arthur relaxed their hands, and stared at the unconscious Princess lying in the middle of her bed. She wore a simple light blue dress and no jewelry; her fingers peeked out from the edges of broad sleeves, and her feet were bare beyond the hem. Her hair was arrayed about her head and shoulders—a soft, wispy nimbus around her sleeping face.
But this was no normal sleep—Arthur and Erik could see that instantly—Anna lay like a statue carved from flesh.
"I'm glad you came, Lord Erik," Blaise said, seated on the bed beside her while Merlin stood at the foot. Arthur and Erik realized this was Erik's final test—Arthur's eyes shot to Merlin, but Merlin was focused on Blaise.
"What do you need me to do?" Erik asked.
"The Princess is under a sleeping spell that can only be lifted by True Love's Kiss," Blaise said.
"You can't be serious," Arthur said.
"For purposes of this test I am," Blaise said.
"And for purposes not of this test?" Merlin asked suspiciously.
Blaise stood, "In reality," stepping towards Merlin, "'true' is merely something real, honest and meaningful; as opposed to something false, fake or fabricated. Only genuine emotion is required to lift such spells," he stared straight into Merlin's eyes, "a young girl's passing fancy would work so long as she truly felt her loving feelings. Real love is beautiful and precious," he whispered to Merlin, "but it is not singular."
Merlin stared defiantly back at Blaise.
"But this spell is different," Blaise turned, addressing the room. "It is a spell of Romance—it can only be lifted with a kiss from her soul mate—her spirit kin—the one with whom she is Destined to be." Blaise turned to Erik, "Are you ready to assay this adventure?"
"You get a battle and a giant serpent," Erik muttered to Arthur. "I get this."
Arthur ignored Erik's comment. "What's the point of this test?" he asked.
"No point, really," Blaise said. "I just thought it was time to do away with all this courtship nonsense. Either you and Anna were meant to be," he said to Erik, "or you weren't. Simply kiss her and find out. Five seconds. No more politics, no more arrangements, no more dining with strangers. Cameliard needs a king, and only the Princess's heart can pick one. Shall we?" Blaise gestured Erik to the bed.
Erik took one step forward and stopped.
"You put the enchantment on her?" he asked Blaise.
Blaise nodded.
"If I can't lift it, you can—the Princess is in no real danger?"
Blaise nodded.
Erik nodded apprehensively and sat down on the bed. He hesitated. He placed his hands on either side of Anna's body and slowly leaned toward her. Softly, he kissed her lips.
And still she slept—surprising no one.
Erik stood. "What happens now?"
Blaise considered Anna for a moment. "What do you think should happen?" he asked Erik. "There's still the problem of succession. Maybe we should leave her as is, where she can play no more games with the noblemen who come to court her. We just lead them up here, have each one kiss her, and if she wakes, we have our next king. It's a wonderfully simple solution, really."
"You're making fun of me," Erik said.
"No, I'm not," Blaise said succinctly.
"You think I would degrade Princess Anna like that?—by making her kiss a dozen men—two dozen—how many would it take?"
"She's asleep," Blaise said. "She's not even aware, let alone acting of her own free will—it's not her fault how many men come to kiss her."
Arthur glanced at Caradoc. She stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She had made no move since closing the door, but she did not look happy.
"It could be a hundred," Blaise continued. "If we're lucky, one will show up before Leodogran dies. But what if the right one doesn't come for twenty years," he looked at Merlin, "what will happen to Cameliard then?"
Merlin glared impatiently at Blaise.
"But of course, that doesn't matter," Blaise went on, "the people will gladly idle along, waiting for their ordained king. And won't Anna be so happy not to waste twenty years learning love on her own—she just wakes up one day and magic hands her everything."
"Wake. Her. Up," Erik said.
"That's a good point," Blaise said. "What if her One True Love isn't a nobleman? We should probably start having the townsmen line up—farmers, merchants, blacksmiths, bakers—any man who can kiss can be king."
"How is someone going to wake her if she doesn't have a 'passing fancy'?" Merlin sneered.
"No," Erik said. "Wake her up now."
"This kingdom has for too long waited for Anna to make her choice," Blaise said. "There's no reason for this tedious dance of suitors—"
"Blaise!" Arthur said. "The test is over. Erik has answered your question. Now lift the curse."
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to try, dear Captain?"
"No. Anna can choose for herself. And the succession of kings definitely shouldn't be determined by a sorcerer's trick."
"So be it," Blaise demurred. He chanted a long spell, weaving his arms about in the air, and when he finished, Anna opened her eyes. Arthur, Erik and Caradoc rushed to her side.
"That was it?" she asked Blaise, sitting up as if she had merely blinked. He bowed his head.
And while Anna reassured the others that she was perfectly unharmed, Blaise moved to Merlin's side, returning Merlin's gaze of steel.
Sir Brandt of Camelot took a few tentative steps in the room he shared with Sir Rigel. His leg was healing nicely, Blaise had said. Brandt held onto the end of the table with one hand, his other gripping Sir Taran.
"Why are we still here?" Rigel said, watching from his seat on one of the beds as Brandt released Taran's arm to try a step on his own.
"Prince Arthur wants everyone to be healthy and whole before we make the long journey back to Camelot," Madoc said, sitting on the other bed.
"What—did you memorize his every word?" Rigel said. "You're turning into Cadoc."
Cadoc looked pensively out the window and gave no response.
"It's easy to memorize those words—Prince Arthur says them often enough," Taran said, catching Brandt as he lost his balance on his weakened leg. "That's enough for today."
"I think by the end of the week, I'll be ready to go," Brandt sat down on a chair and rubbed his calf muscles.
"But will the Prince?" Rigel asked.
"Is there a problem?" Arthur said from the open doorway, startling his men. Cadoc turned; Madoc and Rigel sprang to their feet. "Please," Arthur entered the room, "bring it to my attention."
Merlin, clutching a book to his chest, stood in the corridor and peered around the corner of the doorway, making no attempt to cross the threshold or announce his presence in any way.
"King Uther is looking for you, Sire," Cadoc said.
"I'm aware of that."
"If he finds you here . . ." Cadoc didn't finish.
"He might wonder why you've been away for so long without contact," Taran said.
"You're saying he might think I've been enchanted?"
"If he has no other news," Taran looked straight at Arthur.
"And what do you think?"
The knights all glanced around at each other.
"It is strange to be staying under an enemy's roof for so long," Sir Rigel finally ventured.
"Have we been treated as enemies?" Arthur asked.
"They don't know who we are—who you are," Taran said, to several nods of agreement.
"Actually, some of them do," Arthur said.
"But if the king knows you're his enemy—" Madoc glanced around at the other men.
"I am not his enemy. And Leodogran himself might not know yet—so we are going to continue our silence. Am I clear?"
"Is there a danger?" Taran asked.
"Is there?" Arthur's voice had a growing edge.
"Well he does encourage sorcery . . ." Brandt began.
"He allows sorcery," Arthur said. "Does that make him evil?"
"Magic is . . ." Madoc started then stopped when Arthur glared at him.
"How much evil have you seen since we arrived?"
"Leodogran's advisor is a sorcerer—" Taran said.
"And how many acts of evil have either of them performed?"
"Druids roam the streets . . ." Rigel said quietly, looking down and not finishing his thought.
"How many acts of evil?" Arthur asked again. "Where's the cabal? Where are the sorcerers spreading hate and lies and fear and plotting ruin upon the world? Because all I've seen here are people living their lives." Arthur looked around at his men. "We are staying until it is time to leave—and I don't want to hear about any more complaining."
Later, lying awake, Merlin could hear Arthur breathing in the adjacent bed. A single candle burned low, and the book Merlin had brought was cracked open on his chest, ignored.
"I was born this way," Merlin said into the silence.
Arthur turned his head.
"I've always been able to do magic—I can't not do magic." Merlin's breath caught and his blood pounded as he waited for Arthur to respond. Arthur just stared at Merlin.
"My earliest memory is of a toad flying toward me," Merlin continued. "I wanted to play with it, but it hopped away, so I just—I don't know—it just came to me, and I knew that I had done it. That I could do it again."
"Why come to Camelot?" Arthur said finally.
"My mother sent me. She was worried the other villagers would find out—about me."
"Hunith was worried about your safety, so she sent you to Camelot?"
Merlin chuckled softly, "I think it was more that Gaius was the only person she trusted, and he lives in Camelot, so—here I am."
"So all this time you've been practicing magic?"
"How else could I constantly save your royal ass?"
"I don't need magic to save me, Merlin," Arthur threw back his blankets and got up.
"Oh, but sometimes you do," Merlin smiled to himself.
Arthur glared at him, pacing the room. Door, window, door, window—back and forth, his steps too quick and curt for the small space.
"Arthur," Merlin said quietly as Arthur finally paused long enough to pour some water from the ewer on the table. "I don't know how not to be this way."
"I'm not mad at you, Merlin," Arthur started to bring the mug to his lips, but paused, "I'm just not looking forward to finding a new servant."
"You're sacking me? Do you realize how much I've done for you—" Merlin jumped out of bed.
"I'm not sacking you. But you'll be in danger in Camelot," Arthur waved the mug around, "and anyway, you have to finish training with Blaise. The Priestess said."
"My life's always been in danger in Camelot—that's not going to change just because you know—I mean, is it?" Merlin met Arthur's eyes; Arthur looked down into the mug of water. Merlin continued, "as long as I exist, my life is in danger—magic is illegal in a lot of places."
"All the more reason you should stay in Cameliard. Does this water smell funny to you?"
"Don't change the subject. I can correspond with Blaise, I'm not leaving you. Besides, Camelot is my home—okay you're right this water does smell funny," Merlin said as Arthur shoved the cup under his nose.
"It's an anti-love potion." Blaise pointed to a page of the open book beside his breakfast.
"Good thing it smells," Merlin said, leaning over Blaise's shoulder. Arthur was the only other person in the room, and he stood on the other side of the table, arms crossed.
"An antidote to a love potion?" he said.
"No," said Blaise, "this one is for somebody already in love—it nullifies their feelings."
"Someone wanted me to not be in love? That's ridiculous."
"Maybe someone really wants you to leave Cameliard," Merlin said.
"And they think I'm staying because I'm in love?"
"That's as good a guess as any," Blaise said. "And you do spend a lot of time with Anna—"
"Which is my job."
"And she has a suitor. Someone's making assumptions."
"Who?" Arthur asked.
Blaise shrugged, "that's the problem with Anna and love spells—it doesn't always happen and it never seems to be the same person when it does. Depends on who the suitor's supporters are."
"So it could be anyone?" Merlin said.
"No," Arthur stated, "one person is more persistent than anyone else."
With that he walked out of the room.
"You'd better make sure he doesn't do anything stupid," Blaise told Merlin.
Arthur's knock on Julia's door was a command—he let himself in to her chambers.
"Captain. To what do I owe the pleasure of this intrusion?" Julia sat in an elaborately carved chair while a nearby scribe jotted notes down on parchment.
Arthur motioned for the scribe to leave, but Julia commanded him to stay.
Arthur stared at Julia. She wore a voluminous red and gold dress, three necklaces of varying lengths and two rings on each hand. Her brown-gray hair was piled high atop her head. She stared back at Arthur with keen brown eyes.
"You will stop this campaign against Anna and Leodogran," Arthur said.
Julia laughed. "Campaigns are for wars, dear Captain—a subject I find tedious."
"Uniting houses, however, is your expertise." Arthur matched Julia's sneer.
"I make introductions. Any ensuing formalities are happy incident," Julia smiled.
"A love potion in Anna's drink, an anti-love potion in mine—what's that?—unhappy incident?" Arthur stepped toward Julia, who stayed seated.
"On behalf of Lord Erik, I'm insulted. Do you think he needs such aids?"
"I think you're more interested in the next king of Cameliard than you claim," Arthur said quietly. "I think you'd love to have a nice, pliant pawn on the throne."
"On behalf of Lord Erik—"
"You have to have shame before you can be insulted! This has nothing to do with Erik."
"At least you're finally right about something," Julia stood. "Leodogran may blithely indulge his daughter's fantasies, but this kingdom needs a king, and I am not the only one who sees that."
"This kingdom has a king."
"Not forever. No kingdom does. You don't honestly think Uther's going to live forever, do you Arthur?" Julia stared at Arthur's face. But Arthur gave no flick, no tick, no in-breath of response; he stared right back at her. The scribe, however, looked up in shock.
"Anna's minion isn't the only one who can intercept messages." Julia almost smiled.
"It bothers you that Anna thinks for herself," Arthur stated softly.
"Anna is a child," Julia sneered. "She claims to be pragmatic, but lives in a dreamworld—she thinks if she waits long enough a perfect king will magically arrive—and that's her realistic hope. Is that why you're here, Arthur—to be Anna's perfect king?" Julia scoffed. "That would be an interesting failure to watch. Too bad any day now Uther's going to show up to take his mutt back home."
"You'd better hope not," Arthur said. "Because if my father finds out someone tried magic on me, taking me home will be the last thing he does. My Lady."
The scribe finally exhaled when Arthur slammed the door.
Merlin had decided not to follow Arthur. He followed Blaise, who gave an order to a servant and then made his way to Cameliard's great hall. Merlin snuck in through the small door behind the throne and pressed himself behind a tapestry where he'd once hidden before. Daylight from the windows brightened the hall, scattering all shadows. Blaise waited. Merlin waited. One by one, members of Leodogran's council entered.
"Where's the king?" Sir Gaudifier asked.
"Observing Erik, who's training with the men," Blaise replied as the brothers Idris and Erling, the last in, closed the doors. "And Anna is out riding."
"So it's just us?" Sagremore said, unsurprised but intrigued.
"What is it you want, Blaise?" Lucas the Old asked. Blaise scanned the gathered men—Lucas found the brightest patch of sunlight while Cole leaned impatiently on his cane; Tiernan stood the farthest away—though the men were by no means dispersed—and Alaric also stood aloof; Sagramore stared; Gaudifier glanced at the throne; and the brothers crowded together beside Blaise.
So Blaise produced a mug with a flourish from beneath his robes and presented it to Alaric.
"Theatrics aren't usually your style," Alaric said, taking the full mug. "What is this?"
"An anti-love potion—note the singular odor, still quite strong."
Alaric didn't move.
"We must indeed be desperate if you're involving yourself in such a way," Blaise said to him quietly.
"You didn't need to call us all here for this," Idris said.
"I want to know who here has tried a love spell on Anna."
"You just accused Alaric of using an anti-love potion on her," Sagramore said.
"Oh, he didn't use it on Anna," Blaise said. "He tried to give it to the Captain."
"Why would you object to the Captain marrying the Princess?" Lucas the Old asked Alaric.
"Has he even asked to court her?" Erling said.
"It is hard to deny that there is at least a shared . . . interest," Gaudifier said, as if in agreement.
"I'll deny it," Blaise said.
"Oh don't be stupid, Blaise," Alaric snapped, throwing the mug down. "The real question is who here knows the Captain is Arthur Pendragon of Camelot?"
"What?" Gaudifier and Cole said, almost in unison. Sagramore stared agape at Blaise, but the others were unmoved.
"Half of us? Half of us? And nobody thought to say anything?" Alaric seethed as he stared at the gathered men.
"We didn't know," Erling said, indicating his brother.
"But now I want to put a love spell on the Princess," Idris added.
"That's not funny, Idris," Blaise said.
"I'm not joking," Idris's face was suddenly hard.
"You would invite the Pendragon to Cameliard?" Alaric was aghast.
"Invite the mighty warrior Arthur to Cameliard's aid—yes," Idris leaned toward Alaric.
"A union with Camelot could prove beneficial," Sagramore mused.
"What?" Cole stared, stunned at Sagramore.
"We are not so well-off that we can defend ourselves indefinitely." Idris's voice was cold. "Our situation isn't going to change just because you don't like our options," he glared at each man.
"We can defend ourselves just fine," Cole said.
"Uther's intolerance is too great," Gaudifier said. "You would protect our kingdom from one conqueror by sacrificing half of it to another."
"Not half—all—Uther would see every single one of us destroyed," Alaric said. "Those who don't practice magic would be killed for standing next to one who does. Conquest is the last thing you have to worry about from a Pendragon."
"You speak more truly than you know," Tiernan finally spoke. "Arthur is no conqueror. Though he is a uniter. And a defender."
"That seems to be the real question," Lucas the Old said, "are we dealing with the father or the son—and are the two the same?"
"Arthur is not Uther," Blaise said.
"He was raised by Uther, ingrained with Uther's hatred of the old ways—" Alaric said.
"—Is that what you fear, Alaric," Blaise said, "that your way of life will disappear?"
"Don't you?"
"Our ways are not dead yet," Tiernan turned to Alaric. "And it won't be a single man that destroys them."
"Forget the old ways," Cole said. "As long as Uther lives, Arthur will be duty-bound to follow his king—if he's as honorable as you say," he sneered at Blaise.
"And then?" Arthur's voice rang clear from behind the throne—he stood in the open doorway, his hand on the door. Merlin pressed himself tighter against the wall, but Arthur's entire attention was focused on the council. No one knew how long he had been listening.
"Must I do as my father does?" Arthur closed the door and approached the gathered men. "Do you also think I'm just his mindless mutt?"
"You really want that answered?" Cole said.
"I don't actually care what you think of me," Arthur snapped. "I want to know what you're going to do."
"What are you doing?" Alaric sneered.
"Alaric . . ." Tiernan whispered.
"No," Erling said. "I want to know that—why are you here, Arthur?"
"A manticore brought me, remember?" Arthur said.
"That's why you came," Blaise said.
"Why stay?" Erling said. Arthur looked at Erling a moment, contemplating.
"My father once told me a story about King Leodogran and Cameliard—"
"A lie," Alaric said.
"How am I supposed to know that if I can't see for myself?" Arthur rounded on Alaric. "And what about you," he turned to the council, "what stories have you heard about me—or did you make them all up yourselves?"
Behind the tapestry, Merlin smiled.
"We've heard great things about you," Tiernan said.
"If there's anything the druids would like to share," Alaric swerved on Tiernan.
"I don't need stories of Camelot," Blaise said soberly. "I have memories. Would you like to hear about Uther's Purge?" he whispered in Arthur's ear, a sinister timbre in his question.
"I know about my father's Purge," Arthur replied.
"What?—that wicked sorcerers were justly executed?" Blaise scoffed. "Is that what Geoffrey's records say? Oh dear—you didn't know that there's a Book of the Purge."
The council stared at Arthur, each look a judgment of one sort. They encircled him. But Arthur was used to being the center of attention.
"I'll admit I don't know everything in the world," he said. "Maybe I stayed here to learn—is that wrong? Or maybe I stayed because I saw a chance to turn an enemy into an ally—is that not worth pursuing?"
Arthur started pacing the circle, meeting every eye. "But you'd dismiss me," he continued. "I offer my help, but you'd rather keep me as your enemy. Your wise advice to Leodogran would be to send me away because—because what?"
"Uther is a threat," Cole seethed.
"Let me handle my father."
"What does he think you're doing here?" Erling asked. Arthur looked away.
"He doesn't know," Tiernan stated softly.
"Deceiving two kings is a dangerous game," Lucas said.
"I know," Arthur admitted. "But under the circumstances I had no choice." He stood right in the center of the council, addressing each separately and yet all of them together. "We have a chance for peace between Cameliard and Camelot—if you help me. I don't want any more of this silent threat looming at the outskirts, do you? Let me tell Leodogran and my father, when the time is right."
"Are you saying you have a plan?" Sagremore said.
"We already have what peace there is to have," Cole said.
"A perpetual stalemate is not a peace," Idris said.
"And persisting in an old hatred doesn't get you any closer," Arthur said. "Please. I care about Cameliard—I would risk my life for her. I promise Camelot will not harm this kingdom."
"Can you promise that?" Alaric asked skeptically.
"Yes," Arthur said. The council glanced around at each other.
"A month?" Tiernan proposed.
"A week," Alaric said.
"As much time as he wants," Blaise said, drawing all eyes to him. "As long as he can outsmart Lady Julia and the rest of the nobility. And of course, Leodogran himself."
"Leodogran will never hear what he doesn't want to hear," Sagremore muttered.
The council glanced at each other again in silent deliberation until finally Lucas the Old spoke.
"As long as Camelot proves no threat, and as long as you continue to obey our laws, your secret is safe."
Arthur nodded in gratitude.
"But if Uther is looking for you," Lucas added, "that will not be for long."