Summary
Only a few days in Camelot, Jacinth finds herself immersed in the challenges her friends, Sefa Firestone and Queen Guinevere, face.
Chapter 67 What Memory Hides
In the physicians' quarters, Sefa clung to her father as Queen Guinevere paced the length of the chamber, her emerald gown whispering against stone with each turn. Jacinth sat beside the druids, moving her hand in gentle circles across Sefa's trembling back. The neat rows of vessels, bottles, and leather-bound tomes ascending the walls reflected something far grander than village remedies—this was healing meant for the heart of Camelot.
Master Leonard worked at the foot of the staircase, his quill scratching against parchment as he bent over his task. When a strand of fair hair slipped from its tie, his instinctive motion to secure it awakened memories in Jacinth's chest—Sir Erwan at his crossbow, pausing to brush back loose strands before resuming his watch.
"Sefa," Gwen said, stepping closer to them. "Is there anything you can tell us? Even the smallest detail could help us find Arthur."
"I want to help, my queen, I do," Sefa whispered between hitched breaths. "But I don't—I can't—"
Gwen resumed her pacing opposite the table where they sat the red gem in her gold-braided circlet bright against her olive skin. As Jacinth watched her, she still couldn't quite reconcile how this regal figure had once shared simple bread with her in Longstead, then stood as her protector in captivity. Those memories cast new light on Gwen's confrontation with the Whipmaster—that gentle might had always been there, waiting for its moment. Her friend-turned-queen's composed expression revealed only the slightest tension at the corners of her mouth, but Jacinth recognized the worry in her eyes.
When Gwen turned at the door, the space seemed to await Fredrick's presence. Jacinth found her gaze drawn to that spot, imagining his vigilant stance. Her thoughts strayed to him in his chambers, confined to enforced rest, wondering when she might next see him. But she pushed such musings aside, returning her attention to Sefa's distress.
"I don't know anyone named Derrick Andronicus of Eofham, Father," Sefa whispered into her father's robes. Jacinth pressed a linen cloth into her friend's hands, and Sefa wiped at her face.
"You spoke of him to me also, child," Master Ruadan said gently. "Though I noticed you had not spoken of him these past days." He met the queen's gaze, his blue eyes clouded with concern. "I dismissed it as the ways of young hearts, nothing an old man should meddle in."
The tenderness in Master Ruadan's voice surprised Jacinth, transforming her image of the man she'd met yesterday. She remembered how his jeweled amulets and rich robes had filled the corridor, his sword and dagger marking him as more than just a healer. Now his voice flowed gentle as spring water while he cradled his daughter.
"He manipulated you for information about the king and queen," he concluded, anger threading through his words. Sefa curled deeper into his embrace, fresh sobs shaking her frame. Jacinth's teeth worried her lower lip as she met Gwen's gaze, finding her own unease mirrored in her queen's eyes.
"My queen." Master Leonard's heels struck a solemn cadence on the stone floor as he approached Gwen, offering her the parchment. "I've recorded my examination findings of Sefa. There's nothing physically wrong with her. Whatever is affecting her memories, it isn't a medical issue."
Gwen's face tightened as her eyes moved over the parchment, though her voice remained steady. "Thank you, Leonard. We'll have to see if the seer can provide any further insight."
The past few days had upended Jacinth's world. She'd barely crossed the castle threshold when certainty crumbled around her—the king's disappearance, Gwen's brush with death at the stream, and now Sefa, whose warm welcome to Camelot had turned to ashes as she denied memories that painted her a traitor. Tears burned behind Jacinth's eyes as she watched her new friend tremble. Court intrigue, she realized, carved wounds deeper than any village dispute could reach.
Gwen drew near to the druids, her hand finding Sefa's, offering the gentle touch that Jacinth remembered from her own darkest moments. "Sefa," Gwen said, radiating the same resilience that had sustained them during their captivity, "dry your tears and look at me."
Sefa's sobs gentled into uneven breaths as she dabbed at her face before raising her reddened eyes to meet her queen's gaze. "I'm sorry, my queen," she whispered with trembling meekness. "I would never—"
"I know what it's like. I've been in your place, and I'm truly sorry this has happened to you." A haunted expression flickered across Gwen's face, but her voice held firm. "I've been cursed to do things that I otherwise would never have done. My life nearly shattered more than once from forces beyond my control, but others fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself. We won't abandon you now."
This glimpse into Gwen's own experience with magical violation shifted Jacinth's understanding of her queen. The mettle she'd witnessed in their captivity, the deep compassion she showed to others – these weren't just noble virtues, but a noble truth forged in the fires of her own devastating struggles against forces that might have broken a lesser spirit.
Jacinth's gaze swept the room, taking in each reaction to this revelation—Ruadan's expression tempering with newfound respect, Leonard leaning forward with scholarly intensity, and Sefa's face brightening with renewed hope. Though still finding her footing in court life, her connection to both women drew her deeper into their story.
She cleared her throat, gathering her courage. "Master Ruadan, Gw-Queen Guinevere," Jacinth said, the royal address still catching in her throat, "what will happen to Sefa? What can a seer reveal about her lost memories?"
"If I may, your highness," Ruadan said, waiting for Gwen's nod before continuing. "A seer's gift reaches beyond what ordinary eyes can perceive. They might uncover the truth hidden in Sefa's mind, show us what has been taken from her. Perhaps aid us in finding the king."
In her few days at court, Jacinth had sensed how deeply the king's absence permeated daily life – servants speaking in hushed tones, knights gathering in urgent clusters, magical practitioners coming and going at all hours. The castle itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for its sovereign's return.
Jacinth nodded slowly, remembering her village where magic lived only in whispered claims from three brave souls after the ban lifted. Her only true glimpse of such power had come during her rescue— unseen forces ripping through the Southron camp, scattering bodies and weapons like leaves in a gale. Those memories invaded her dreams still.
Now, watching Sefa tremble, that same unease stirred in her stomach. Here in Camelot, magic wasn't confined to whispers and rumors—it touched everything, immediate and raw in its power. Her pulse quickened with the realization of how far she'd wandered from the comfortable patterns of village life, into a world where even memories could be stolen.
The door opened, jolting her from her own mounting dread, and Gwen's sorcerer entered, the one whose magic had scattered papers and toppled candles during that heated exchange with Sir Gwaine two days ago. Merlin—she'd learned his name—wore dark attire that suited the man who had commanded such power, his presence filling the room as naturally as smoke from a hearth. Black hair fell in waves to his neck, and his deep blue eyes fixed immediately on Gwen with unmistakable concern.
The woman who followed him drew Jacinth's attention like a flame in darkness. Tall and regal, she carried herself with a fluid grace that seemed to transcend ordinary movement. Small carved bones and silver rings adorned intricate plaits, each piece seemingly placed with ritual purpose in her light brown hair. Her gown of midnight-blue silk flowed like liquid shadows, embroidered with silvered threads that traced intricate geometric patterns, each delicate stitch a whispered map of ancient mysteries. This, Jacinth knew with certainty, must be the seer.
Sir Maxwell secured the door behind them. Jacinth watched him take his place there, still finding it strange that this was the same Sir Galahad who had questioned Sefa. She wondered what personal story had prompted this change, what determination had led him to choose a different name. To her, he would always be Sir Maxwell, the name she'd known when he and Fredrick broke her cage that day and pulled her to safety.
She caught him glancing her way, his expression softened with the same subtle interest she'd noticed since her arrival. He quickly diverted his gaze, cheeks flushing. She shook her head. Her heart held no space for the knight's gentle overtures— not while her thoughts remained fixed on Fredrick.
As the others gathered around Gwen, Jacinth's mind drifted to those five days on the road from Longstead. She'd watched Fredrick lead their small party through forest paths and open meadows, his assured leadership revealing why he'd been chosen as the queen's protector. Yet those days had only deepened an impossible longing that had begun the moment his arms lifted her from that cage. She knew she must seem little more than a child to him, just another soul he'd rescued, but her heart refused to listen to reason.
"Queen Guinevere." Merlin's voice filled the chamber with subtle power, making Jacinth straighten instinctively. He turned to present the woman with bone-adorned braids. "May I introduce Lady Wynifreed of Brechfa, a seer of great renown among my people."
Gwen inclined her head, the red gem in her circlet gleaming against her olive skin. "Lady Wynifreed, thank you for coming on such short notice."
The seer's gaze settled on Gwen with an intensity that made Jacinth's skin prickle. "I understand the import of the matter, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice as cool and smooth as winter frost. "The disappearance of a king is no small matter, especially one with Pendragon blood."
The name "Pendragon" reverberated through the chamber like distant thunder. Jacinth felt the change—subtle as weather before a storm. Even in her remote village, whispers persisted of King Uther's reign, when magic users met their end on the executioner's block. The seer's words seemed to stir those old memories, making the room feel smaller, colder.
Gwen met Lady Wynifreed's penetrating gaze undeterred. "Indeed, Lady Wynifreed. King Arthur's absence strikes at the heart of our kingdom. We believe the answers we seek lie within my maidservant's lost memories."
"As your sorcerers have explained to me," the seer imparted. Her gaze turned to Sefa, who shrank deeper into her father's embrace, as though Lady Wynifreed could read every secret written on her soul. "A hidden thread in a tangled tapestry. And you hope that I might undo these threads?"
"One thread is all we need to lead us to the king."
"Understand what we risk here," she said, each word as careful as frost forming on glass. "Searching through another's mind is like walking blindfolded through unknown woods—one misstep could lead us astray, or worse."
Sefa paled at these words, but lifted her chin even as tears brightened her eyes. Jacinth's chest tightened watching her friend master her trembling with visible effort. In her village, thoughts and memories belonged to each person alone—the idea of someone reaching in to examine them, to pull them out like threads from cloth, seemed a violation beyond imagining.
"I'll be right here, my child," Ruadan murmured, his arm steady around her shoulders. Jacinth squeezed Sefa's hand, offering a small smile of encouragement to her.
Sefa straightened, her words unsteady but determined. "I'm prepared to face what must be done, Lady Wynifreed."
The seer nodded, something like respect warming her cool gaze. "Very well. I shall do what I can to uncover the truth."
"One final matter," Gwen said, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "What happens here today stays within these walls. Those who oppose magic in Camelot would seize upon this to sow discord. We cannot risk such knowledge becoming a weapon against the kingdom's peace."
A hush fell over the room as the others absorbed the queen's warning, their silent nods acknowledging the burden of secrecy they now shared. Understanding passed between them all—of how much rested on their discretion, how deeply magic still divided the kingdom.
As Lady Wynifreed stepped forward, Jacinth's heart quickened, her grip instinctively tightening around Sefa's hand. Her words held an unmistakable authority: "Everyone but the girl must step back. Give us space."
Jacinth retreated with the others to the room's edges, while Ruadan remained seated beside his daughter. Lady Wynifreed drew items from the folds of her gown—a small leather pouch, a delicate silver circlet set with a moonstone, a crystal that refracted the light strangely, and what looked like bird bones as pale as winter's first snow. These she arranged on the worktable with ritual precision, each object finding its ordained place.
The seer turned her gaze to Ruadan, whose arm encircled Sefa protectively. "With respect, Master Ruadan," the seer said, "you understand better than most the delicacy required for such work. Please step aside." He nodded, then squeezed his daughter's hand before letting her go.
Lady Wynifreed placed the circlet upon Sefa's head, ensuring the moonstone was centered between her brow. Standing behind Sefa, she placed her fingers gently on Sefa's temples. "Close your eyes, child," the seer murmured. "Think of nothing. Let your mind drift like leaves on water."
Jacinth edged closer to Gwen, her thoughts swirling as Lady Wynifreed began to chant in a tongue unfamiliar to her. Sefa's face went slack under the seer's touch. The urge to reach for her queen's hand rose within her, but uncertainty held her back. Those gestures belonged to their shared past, before she understood who Gwen truly was. Jacinth drew in a steadying breath and waited—like everyone else—for whatever secrets lay hidden in Sefa's stolen memories to be revealed.
As Lady Wynifreed's chanting rose, Sefa's moonstone began to pulse—not a mere reflection of light, but something alive and aware. The seer's free hand moved over her arranged items—touching first the crystal where shadows swirled beneath its surface, then sliding the pale bones between her fingers, tracing their surfaces as if divining secrets etched in its core.
Through her own churning fears about stolen memories and ancient magic, Jacinth noticed Gwen's hand pressed against her stomach – a protective gesture that seemed almost unconscious. At the foot of the staircase, Master Leonard returned to his notes with fierce concentration, his quill moving rapidly across the parchment. Merlin stood alert on the other side of the table, his earlier formality replaced by focused attention to the ritual unfolding before them, while Ruadan kept vigil beside him, his restlessness betrayed by subtle shifts of weight. Jacinth's gaze found Maxwell by the doorway, his presence offering an unexpected anchor amid the uncertainty, before she returned her attention to Sefa.
The seer's voice changed pitch, becoming deeper, more resonant. Sefa's features had relaxed, but beneath her closed lids her eyes darted frantically, as though pursuing visions. Lady Wynifreed's words quieted to whispers of intent. Between Sefa's brows, the moonstone's radiance quickened like a heartbeat.
A gasp tore from Sefa as her spine bowed upward. Master Ruadan surged towards his daughter, but Lady Wynifreed's piercing look froze him mid-stride. Her chant intensified as she chose the crystal then raised it before Sefa's face, where a pale flame seemed to dance within its core, imprisoned in frost.
"There," Lady Wynifreed whispered, her voice filling the chamber despite its softness. "Show me what was taken." Sefa's lips shaped words without sound as the moonstone pulsed in time with her rapid breathing.
"A man," the seer continued, her eyes half-closed in concentration. "Both young and old—hair that shifts between silver and black. He speaks of... trade routes, of gems and metalwork. He whispers sweet nothings and steals a kiss." She paused, lines deepening between her brows. "But these memories conceal something sinister beneath their surface, like dark ice masking treacherous depths."
"Silver hair," Merlin repeated softly, sharing a glance with Sir Maxwell.
The crystal blazed brighter as tremors took hold of Sefa. Jacinth's instinct urged her toward her friend, but she kept her place beside Gwen, knowing any disruption could bring danger.
The seer's voice sharpened. "Magic threads through these memories – delicate yet unbreakable as a spider's silk. A powerful hand has reshaped her mind."
"Can you determine his identity, my lady?" Gwen asked. The exchange of looks between the queen, Merlin, and Sir Galahad told Jacinth they already knew this sorcerer.
Lady Wynifreed's fingers pressed against Sefa's temples, while in her other hand, the crystal dimmed before flaring with renewed brilliance. "No. He's concealed his presence too skillfully. But—" She faltered as Sefa released a small, broken sound. "The memories of this man, this Derrick... they aren't fabrications. They existed, but they've been... altered. Twisted to serve another purpose."
Master Ruadan's fists clenched at his sides. "What other purpose?"
"More than just learning of the king's movements," Lady Wynifreed said. "More than just to gain the trust of one close to the crown. Beneath that lies—" The moonstone's glow surged, casting strange shadows across Sefa's features. "Something darker. Something concerning—"
Sefa's scream split the air, before she slumped forward onto the workbench. The crystal slipped from Lady Wynifreed's grasp, clattering against the stone floor as she staggered backwards. Merlin moved swiftly to brace her, his arm supporting her shoulders.
"Sefa!" Gwen said, hurrying to the bench as Master Ruadan gathered his daughter into his arms. "Sefa."
Jacinth moved toward her companion, but Maxwell's firm grip on her arm kept her back. The air still crackled with magic, remnants of whatever had caused Sefa's collapse.
"Wait," he warned, his voice low and urgent. "The magic is unstable – it's not safe."
"But the queen…" Jacinth began.
"She's protected," he said. Jacinth wanted to protest, but something in his bearing – the tension in his stance, the absolute certainty in his voice – kept her rooted in place.
Master Leonard rushed forward with an uncorked vial, its scent of mint and honey spreading through the chamber. "Here," he said to Ruadan. "This will help settle your daughter."
"Someone guards these secrets," Lady Wynifreed said, her words coming in short bursts. Merlin released her to stand on her own, moving back a step. "He's lain snares in her mind. To go further would risk shattering both her and the one who dares to look too deeply."
"What manner of magic could do this?" Gwen asked, turning to Lady Wynifreed as Maxwell knelt to retrieve the fallen crystal. The seer gathered her remaining items, her hands unsteady as she accepted it from his outstretched palm, tiny beads of sweat forming above her brow.
"Dark and powerful magic," Lady Wynifreed said, "wielded with precision. Ancient objects are at work here – artifacts that should remain untouched." She faltered, her fingers gripping the table edge as color drained from her face. Merlin and Leonard moved toward her with practiced urgency, but she raised a hand to halt them. "I am well enough." Drawing herself upright, she continued, I glimpse fragments—copper and gems, shadows and memories. The magic obscures itself, turning away from examination."
Merlin exchanged a glance with Maxwell, another shared secret seeming to pass between them. "Can you tell us anything else?" Merlin asked.
Lady Wynifreed's movements slowed to stillness. "Only that whoever did this knows the old ways well. As I said, this magic extends beyond mere memory alteration, reaching toward something far more fundamental—" She stopped abruptly, pressing her fingers to her temples, a grimace betraying her earlier claims of wellness.
The seer's warnings tumbled through Jacinth's mind like leaves caught in a whirlwind – old ways, memory alteration, something fundamental. This talk of minds being changed made her head spin. Her confusion stilled as Sefa stirred, her father cradling her head to help her sip Leonard's remedy. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and bewildered.
"What happened?" The words came out faint, uncertain. "Did you find...?" She trailed off, the question dissolving like mist, the moonstone's glow dulled to a lifeless white.
"Rest now," Gwen said tenderly, removing the silver circlet before gently touching Sefa's hand. "You've shown us more than enough. Ruadan, please take your daughter to the private room upstairs. Leonard, if you would attend her please?" As they nodded, she turned to Jacinth. "Stay with her. Sefa will need your friendship when she fully wakes."
Jacinth observed the muted efficiency as each person moved to their assigned task. She watched as Ruadan gathered Sefa into his arms, her friend appearing unnaturally delicate in his careful embrace. But as Leonard followed them into the small chamber, Jacinth found herself lingering, her attention drawn to the hushed conversation unfolding between the queen, the sorcerer, and the seer. She glanced at Maxwell across the room, who seemed equally absorbed in their exchange.
"My lady, could you tell how long ago the magic was worked?" Merlin asked.
"Eight days, perhaps ten. The traces still pulsed like newly spun silk." Lady Wynifreed's eyes lost focus, as if studying a landscape only she could see. "Beyond the surface memories, I sensed... malice, preparation. As if the spellwork had been laid with great care, knowing someone would try to unravel it."
"He expected us to look?" Gwen asked. She passed the circlet to the seer, her hand drifting to her stomach.
"He wanted you to know how deeply he'd penetrated your defenses," Lady Wynifreed replied, carefully wrapping the circlet in a silk cloth before returning it to her collection of items.
"A message then," Merlin suggested. "But to what end?"
"The spellwork was meant to wound those who pried too deeply." Lady Wynifreed's voice had grown fainter. "A message indeed. A warning, perhaps. Or a trap."
"For someone specific?" Sir Maxwell asked. Jacinth caught his eye across the chamber, saw her own unease mirrored in his expression. Their words painted pictures she could barely grasp, yet their implications made her skin prickle.
"For someone powerful enough to look," the seer implied. "Someone he knew would try." Her gaze found Merlin with unsettling certainty.
"But I'm not a seer," he said, his tone dry.
"No. You are Emrys. He knows that." She glanced at Maxwell. "And you, knight of purpose, he harbors even more enmity."
"We…battled once," Maxwell explained haltingly, shifting his stance. "He eluded me."
"He fears you both." She reached for Merlin's wrist. "When I touched the girl's memories, I sensed... satisfaction. Not from the girl, but from the one who took her memories. This man of many faces—each one worn like a mask, yet his ambitions serve another's glory, not his own." She pressed her fingers to her temples, pain flickering across her features. "He views this as all proceeding according to design."
Silence filled the chamber like water in a deep well, broken only by Merlin's solemn declaration.
"Then we're already playing their game," Merlin said quietly. "And they're several moves ahead."
Lady Wynifreed lifted her chin with effort. "You must find your king swiftly, my lord Emrys. Whatever dark purpose those artifacts serve, they're weapons, or a tool. Something that reaches deeper than mere memory. I sense what they plan goes beyond mere—death." Her eyes rolled back, her body crumpling forward as the last of her strength failed. Merlin lunged, catching her before she struck the floor.
"Lady Wynifreed!" Gwen rushed to the seer as Merlin eased her onto the chamber floor. Leonard emerged from Sefa's room with Ruadan behind him, while Jacinth retreated from the doorway, her heart hammering.
Gwen and the physicians converged around the fallen seer, forming a tight circle that left Jacinth and Maxwell as observers at the edges of the chamber. Though his stance suggested readiness to assist if called upon, Maxwell remained where he was, close enough that Jacinth could sense the tension in his frame. With each movement of the healers, she found herself drifting closer to him, like autumn leaves caught in the same current.
Leonard pressed fingers to her throat while Ruadan's hands hovered above her chest, a soft blue glow emanating from his palms. But it was Merlin's reaction that made Jacinth's breath catch – his face had drained of color as he cradled the seer's head.
"The magic's taken root," he said, voice tight with strain. "Like thorns wrapped around her thoughts."
Jacinth felt Maxwell stiffen beside her at these words, his hand moving instinctively toward his sword before dropping back to his side. She hadn't realized how much closer they'd drawn together until his sleeve brushed against hers, neither of them stepping away from that small point of contact.
"We must draw it out," Ruadan said, the blue light intensifying. "Quickly, before it burrows deeper."
"Wait." Merlin's command stopped Ruadan's spell mid-gesture. "Look how it's anchored. If we pull too hard, we risk tearing her mind apart."
Maxwell's sharp intake of breath matched Jacinth's own. She found herself leaning slightly toward his steadying presence as the terrible implications of Merlin's words sank in. The chamber suddenly felt colder, though perhaps that was just the fear coursing through her veins.
Leonard glanced between them. "Her pulse grows weaker. Whatever you're going to do—"
"We ease it loose," Merlin said. "Gentle as untangling silk." His eyes flashed gold as he placed his hands on either side of her temples. "Master Ruadan, lend me your magic. Direct it through me – I'll guide it."
The two sorcerers bent to their work, blue light merging with gold. As their combined magic filled the air, Jacinth held her breath without realizing it until Maxwell's exhale beside her reminded her to breathe. The intensity of their spellwork made the air vibrate, and she noticed his fingers curling against his leg, his stance rigid as he watched the others work.
Sweat beaded on their brows as they worked with painstaking care, like herbwomen drawing poison from a snake's bite with poultice and prayer. The chamber grew warmer with their magic, yet Jacinth couldn't stop trembling. She crossed her arms tightly, trying to still the shaking, and felt Maxwell shift his weight, angling himself slightly toward her as if to block the worst of the magical current flowing through the room.
The combined light from Merlin and Ruadan's magic cast strange shadows across the walls, their faces shining with exertion, sweat darkening their hair. Gwen remained beside the physicians, her presence steady amid the magical storm, while Leonard pressed trembling fingers to the seer's pulse.
"There," Merlin said through gritted teeth. "I can feel it loosening."
A low groan escaped Lady Wynifreed's lips. Jacinth felt an instinctive pull toward Maxwell's unwavering presence, his tender strength offering something real, something present.
"Careful," Ruadan warned, his flickering blue light drawing Jacinth's focus. "The trap is layered. Like a web within a web."
"I see it," Merlin replied, golden light intensifying around his hands. "Master Ruadan, on my signal, withdraw your power – slowly, as if you're untangling thread."
The blue glow began to recede as Merlin's magic pulsed brighter. Lady Wynifreed's back arched slightly, another weak sound escaping her lips. Leonard's fingers remained steady at her throat, but his expression tightened.
"Her pulse is stabilizing," he said. "Whatever you're doing, it's working."
The seer's eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding them before recognition returned. "Emrys," she whispered. "The trap..."
"We managed to loosen its hold, my lady," Merlin said, his magic dimming as he helped her sit.
Maxwell was still beside her, his attention shifting between the seer's recovery and his protection of her. Something warm stirred in her chest. Perhaps she had been too quick to dismiss his gentle interest, too focused on impossible dreams.
"Thank you," she said kindly, preparing to join Sefa. His eyes met hers, holding a warmth that followed her as she turned away and he resumed his position by the door. Jacinth paused at the short staircase, turning back as Leonard produced another vial from his pouch.
"This will help restore your vitality, my lady," he said, uncorking it.
Merlin supported the seer's shoulders as she reclined against him on the stone floor, her hands steadying as she accepted the remedy. Gwen stepped forward. "You should rest, Lady Wynifreed. I'll have chambers prepared."
"Thank you, your majesty." The seer's voice carried surprising intensity despite her ordeal. "The shape-shifter's purpose runs deeper than we imagined."
From her position by the stairs, Jacinth watched the seer's gaze move between Merlin and Maxwell, her expression grave. "Yes, he used the servant to know the king's location, but the trap was meant for one or both of you. Had either of you attempted to probe those memories, your minds would have shattered like glass struck by lightning." Her gaze moved between Merlin, Leonard, and Ruadan. "I was fortunate to have such skilled healers present. My intervention might have served his purpose just as well – to demonstrate his power by destroying those who dared to look too deeply."
"Yet we are no closer to finding Arthur then we were before," Gwen said somberly, returning to the seer's side. Tears brightened her eyes before she blinked them away, her chin lifting with practiced composure. Merlin turned sharply toward the window, his shoulders rigid with frustration, while Maxwell's gaze fell to the floor, his jaw working silently. The weight of their failure seemed to press the very air from the room.
"I am sorry, great queen. I wish there was more I could tell you."
"We're grateful for what we did learn," Gwen, her voice steady despite the earlier distress. "Sir Galahad, please escort Lady Wynifreed to the east tower chambers, then join Merlin and me in the great hall."
As the sorcerers helped the seer to her feet, Jacinth lingered, watching Maxwell's fluid transition to his new duty, opening the chamber doors as all but the two physicians remained. In the moment before he closed the door, their eyes met one final time – something unspoken passing between them. Though both understood the seriousness of Arthur's absence, this quieter awareness stayed with her as she climbed the stairs to where Sefa waited.