Ruby Morgan Box Set: Books 6-10

by LJ Rivers

  “Of course, My Queen.” Crow inclined his head. “I spoke in haste.”

  “So you did. Reeve Galahad is right, however, and the son of Merlin forfeited his claim the day he murdered his father in my queendom. Auberon is poisonous, and do not forget the pain and suffering that came of his rule, the slaves he took, and the lives lost because of his lust for power. Now, if no one else wishes to contest my position as your queen, we must move on.”

  No one spoke up, so Morgana continued. “King Auberon is preparing for war. He will come. This time, we have the benefit of knowing that he is coming. I have brought you all here to deliberate our options. My war council and I have already discussed this at length, and my smiths have been working day and night to restock our armoury. We know that Auberon’s forces are doing the same, and that, as of now, his army is likely bigger than ours. I do not wish for blood to be spilt if there is any other option than a full-on confrontation. So, please, I am all ears. What is your counsel?”

  Suddenly, the tension in the room shifted. For some reason, discussing war tactics had made the representatives light up, eagerly discussing the various options and strategies. Even Brendan joined in. All I did was watch and listen. None of this would have been necessary if I hadn’t first helped my father escape his prison realm, then opened the door for him to return to his throne. But I couldn’t change the past. The only thing left for me to do was to try my best to change the future.

  Chapter Six

  Slowly but steadily, my internal clock had adjusted to the lack of light and clocks. My grandfather had made a big number of how we outsiders—meaning anyone not belonging in the town of Perllanafal—look at the clock all the time. I couldn’t help but think it a rather sad irony that he was the one who would spend his life as an outsider. While his point about not needing clocks might have been valid back on Earth, where the sun, moon, and stars did just as good a job for a farmer and a fisherman, none of that applied here. Take away the sunlight, and it was a whole other situation.

  Cherise and her assistants kept their eyes on an entire set of awrglasses back in our wing of the castle, enabling them to give me the correct time—to the nearest awr—of the day whenever I asked. The meeting had lasted most of the day and would reconvene in the morning. Even though we had spent hours in that room, it didn’t feel like we were any closer to a real solution, but I for one was happy to catch my breath. If only for a night.

  As Brendan and I strolled along the battlements on the east wall, with Kit strutting along behind us, I estimated the time to be somewhere around midnight. Our bellies were stuffed after dining with the queen and her primes, reeves, and other distinguished guests. Now that Brendan was Swordmaster of the Junipers, he had been seated at the main table, albeit not right next to me this time. I suspected this was because Morgana didn’t want to provoke the nobles further if she could help it.

  “Sir Galahad,” Brendan mused. “It still baffles me that I’ve sat next to one of King Arthur’s legendary knights. And what a magnificent man he was.”

  “The queen thinks highly of him.”

  “With good reason.” Brendan stopped and looked out over the hundreds of thousands of lanterns below us. Next to him, Kit sat, stretching his neck, as if mimicking Brendan’s posture. “He was a major factor in keeping her from losing the war against the Sorcerers. He told me how much he misses his father, Lancelot.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “You didn’t know? Lancelot was Galahad’s father.”

  I was at a loss for words.

  “Galahad told me that when Morgana banned Auberon to the Realm of Shadows, Galahad was the first to volunteer to join him as his guard. But Lancelot wouldn’t allow it and asked Morgana to ensure his son could lead a life in her service here in Avalon instead.”

  “I’m officially gobsmacked.”

  Brendan scratched Kit behind his elongated ears, then leaned on the parapet, facing me. “I know, right? Don’t get me wrong, Ru. This whole concept of going through a portal to go back to Avalon is mind-boggling. But somehow, I can’t seem to get over the fact that I’ve met Sir Galahad of the flippin’ Round Table. And Lancelot, Gawain, and Percival back on Earth, as well.”

  And I had killed at least one of them, Percival, by thrusting the medieval sword Felicia into his neck. For all I knew, I had killed two more when I destroyed the Realm of Shadows. Had Lancelot and Gawain got out in time? I hoped so, but couldn’t quite see how.

  “I have to tell him about his father,” I whispered. “He will hate me for it, but he deserves the truth.”

  Brendan invited me into his arms, and I melted into them, allowing his strength and warmth to blanket me. “You were trying to survive, love. He’ll understand. He has accepted his father’s honourable sacrifice. To him, Lancelot is already gone. Besides, he has more than enough on his plate as it is.”

  My shoulders slumped. “I guess. He will be a vital player in the preparations for the war, controlling the forces on Pixilon.”

  He kissed my forehead, then my nose. “Well, yes, there is that. But there’s also the problem with the nobles. In Pixilen—and all of Pixilon, for that matter—as much as three quarters of them disapprove of Morgana and her actions. Galahad said he hasn’t thrown any of them in prison for treason yet, as he fears an uproar if he does. But he’s running out of options. The nobles are growing more and more powerful, and they have the ears of the citizens of Pixilon.”

  “There have been several attempts on her life already. Do you think the nobles are behind it?”

  “I think that’s a given. And so does Galahad and many other reeves. When he arrived in Avalen, he brought three hundred soldiers with him. Only fifty will escort him when he goes back. The rest will stay and enforce the queen’s personal guard.”

  A breeze swept over the castle walls, sending a chill down my neck and spine. Kit made a low growl, as if sensing my distress, and I clung onto Brendan as if he was my last lifeline.

  “One of the nobles, a Pixie named Luana, has challenged Galahad for the position as reeve of Pixilen.”

  “Challenged?” I asked. “As in a duel?”

  “No, but I would pay to see that. Galahad might not be a spring chicken, but I have seen him wield his sword. He visited the Juniper swordsmen yesterday, and the old geezer couldn’t stand by watching for long. It was quite a show.”

  I turned my head up to face him and rolled my eyes. “So, what about this challenge?”

  “Oh, right. The queen is the only one who can name a reeve, but if a challenger comes along, she can allow the people to have their say in the matter. An election, basically. She has the final word, though, so I guess Galahad is safe in his chair.”

  “Unless she decides to please her people,” I said. “Who is this Luana, then?”

  “Only the richest Pixie in all of Pixilon. She controls the southern part of the main island, as well as all the adjacent ones. Galahad reckons about ten thousand men and women will follow Luana if she gets her election. And to put it in modern day terms, her campaign issue is simple: Join Auberon.”

  My jaw dropped, and I took a step back. “Are you serious? They can’t do that!”

  “Luana seems to think so. And she’s not the only one. Many of the Avalonian nobles think the same. And then there are the people left behind, whose family members were sent through the portal, some of whom are not happy with Morgana’s decision to banish their loved ones.”

  “She didn’t banish them!” I shouted. I bit my lip and lowered my voice again, speaking through clenched teeth. “She saved them from Auberon. Surely they must see that?”

  Brendan made a motion with his arm, as if to show me the land outside the castle wall. “Auberon lost. In the eyes of some, all Morgana accomplished by sending hundreds of Magicals through the portal to Earth was to ensure their families never saw them again.”

  “She sent her own daughter. Her only child.” I raised my fist, ready to punch Brendan in the chest. Tears were flowing do
wn my cheeks. Tears of anger.

  Brendan took my hands. “Hey, I know, Ru. I’m only relaying Galahad’s words. And there are many of the families that were left behind that agree with her decision, and who love her for saving their loved ones. They understand what was at risk.”

  “If she hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have been born.”

  Carefully, with a cotton touch, he wiped my cheeks with his sleeve. “Which is one of the main reasons I think she’s cool.”

  “Cool?” I sniffled as a smile fought its way onto my lips. “You think the Magical Queen Morgana is cool? I’ll give you a thousand pounds if you say it to her face, Brendan of Callaghan, Swordmaster of the Junipers.”

  “First, you don’t have a thousand quid, and second, I won’t have any use for it here. Otherwise, I might have told her.”

  “Oh, sure.” A thought formed in the back of my mind. “But you know we’re going back, right? To Earth, I mean.”

  Brendan pulled me back into his arms until I was flush to his body, then gave me a gentle kiss. Kit meowed, then padded away from us, apparently deciding it was time to leave. “Of course. Well, unless you become queen, that is. Now what would your subjects think if their queen didn’t have a mate?” He kissed me again, longer and deeper this time. He tasted like cinnamon and honey, and I curled my fingers in his thick hair. It had grown longer, like his beard, which was now tickling my nose. Strike one for the beard. Then again, it made him look older and more seasoned, a testament to the man he had become. When he pulled away, he bore his gaze into mine. “But then again, they might not approve of a simple Don Hekal.”

  Now I did punch him. Playfully, that was. “Eejit. I’ll never be queen of Avalon, don’t worry. And I certainly wouldn’t marry anyone Magical if I did.” I winked. “The princess only has eyes for you.”

  Brendan fell to his knee and held my right hand in his.

  What?

  “As the queen’s Swordmaster of the Junipers, and Princess Ruby of Morgana’s intended, I, Brendan of Callaghan—”

  I tugged at his arm, and he almost fell on his nose. “Get up, you numbnut. I won’t have you propose to me here.”

  He stared at me, eyes wide and his hand over his open mouth. “Why, I never—! Your Highness, I beg your forgiveness. I was only going to say that, darling, you look wonderful tonight. It was never my intention to mislead you into—”

  I punched him again, lightly on the shoulder. “Shut up, eejit.”

  My boyfriend, whose mere smile could make my heart beat faster, grinned so broadly that only his ears could stop his smile from widening more. Even beneath that new beard of his, he was still my Brendan. “Come on, Ru. I was only playing.”

  “I know. And I love you for being able to joke around in these circumstances.”

  “Wait a minute!” he said, narrowing his eyes. “What did you mean by you won’t have me propose here?”

  I opened my mouth, but couldn’t find the words.

  He pointed a finger at me, waving it in front of my face. “So it’s only the location that stops you from wanting me to?”

  “Come on, B! You know what I meant.” I turned and started towards the nearest stairs, wondering if I had known what I meant myself.

  “Oh, no, Princess.” He took my arm. “You don’t get to run away from this.”

  I yanked my arm free. “I only meant it’s not a topic for discussion here. Or now.”

  “But someday?” He dragged the words, his voice filled with playful curiosity.

  “Leave it, Brendan of Callaghan. Your princess orders you.” I resumed my escape, hiding my smile and flushing cheeks.

  “As Your Highness commands.” His footsteps caught up with me, and we descended the stairs. “For now.”

  Chapter Seven

  My eyelids weighed ten stone—each. I wasn’t about to regret a single minute of the night, even if Brendan and I had stayed awake well into the early hours. My only consolation was that he too was struggling to keep his focus on the man who was talking. He was one of the reeves, but I had either missed or forgotten his name during his endless droning about something completely other than what the queen had asked. When he finally sat, he looked strangely pleased with himself.

  “Thank you, Reeve Ollen,” Morgana said. “I appreciate your challenges regarding the lack of hay for your livestock—and the many other issues you raised—but as we are approaching a turning point in our history, I must insist you respond to my actual question. Please, bear in mind that the lack of hay will be the least of your—and our—problems if Auberon defeats us on the battlefields.”

  Even Nefari slanted her head at the reeve from her position on a seat behind Morgana, producing the closest thing to an eye-roll a feline could accomplish.

  Reeve Ollen rose again and sighed dramatically. “I thought I gave a thorough reply, Your Majesty.”

  “Nevertheless, I sit here, not knowing if the Shouren Hamlet will comply with my increased tax demands.”

  Nefari dipped her head, as if in agreement with her kindred Fae.

  The white-haired reeve, who I suspected could shift into some hooved animal, maybe a horse, based on his height and oblong face, cleared his throat. “As my fellow reeves have promised on behalf of their towns and villages, we too will do our best.” He sat again, clearly disappointed that the queen didn’t like his speech.

  Morgana tapped the table with her knuckles. “Right. That finally concludes the matter. When the war is over, and we have driven the northerners out of Avalon once again, I am confident we can lower the taxes. For now, we need to ensure our army is suited to fight the Sorcerer king.”

  She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. “Which brings me to the second matter of the day.” The pitch of her voice had dropped considerably. “The memories of the war sit at the forefront of all our minds, both us in here and our people. Not a single person in this room came out of the battles unscathed.”

  Lord Cramaine of Cavalas, who had already been clear in his scepticism towards me, rose. “With all due respect, Your Highness, that is not entirely correct.” He nodded at Brendan, probably fighting his urge to gesture at me. “While I have heard great stories already about the Swordmaster of the Junipers, neither he nor the princess were—”

  “Let me stop you right there, Lord Cramaine,” Morgana said. “They were not here, of course, but that doesn’t mean they were not affected by the war. In fact, Princess Ruby’s very existence is a direct result of the war, in as much as she is a descendant of Princess Elaine, rest her essence.”

  Cramaine slowly sat down again, breathing heavily through his nose like a bull facing a matador’s cloth.

  “As far as my Swordmaster is concerned, he is here as a result of the war, too. As are the other companions who joined the princess through the portal from the Land of Eternal Sand. A portal I created to preserve our people in the event that Auberon wiped us all out.”

  A low mumbling spread among the nobles at the far right end of the oval table. Morgana glanced in their direction, but didn’t address them. Instead, she leaned back, and it wasn’t until Nefari growled that they quieted again. Morgana glanced back at him and patted his paw.

  “War should be the absolute last option to resolve a conflict. And I intend to do my utmost to avoid the bloodshed it will lead to. If I could hear from my Master of War, Lord Emmet, for a moment. I understand you have recent information from your scouts?”

  Lord Emmet climbed off his chair and stood on the small podium next to it. Even atop the two-feet-high box, the Goblin was standing only head to shoulder with Taryn, who sat next to him.

  “Your Highness, the final tallies are as follows. Your army numbers thirty-three thousand eight hundred and fifty troops. You have two hundred and five ships at your disposal, as well as ninety-one griffins. Eight thousand four hundred swords and two hundred and fifty thousand arrows. The Master of Archers have two thousand able troops, while the Master of Swords have another three thousand ei
ght hundred.”

  The mumbling spread around the table, mostly accompanied by shaking heads.

  “Lord Emmet,” Morgana said, “this means our army is about one third of what it was before the war, correct?”

  The Master of War gave a quick nod.

  “And our foes o’ the mountains?”

  I gasped.

  “Yes, Princess? Did you want to add something?”

  “Uhm, no. I was just coughing.” This was not the time nor the place to explain how the queen inadvertently had just quoted a song that wasn’t about to be written for another few centuries. Though, for all I knew, the song I had been singing throughout my childhood might very well have been based on one that was already sung in this world.

  “Very well. Lord Emmet?”

  The Goblin unrolled more of his scroll. “Although the returned king lost thousands in the war, his army is a formidable force. Your spies—I beg your pardon, Highness—your scouts have reported considerable movements of troops, and vast numbers. It is hard to quantify precisely, but a good estimate is just shy of one hundred and twenty thousand.”

  “Impossible!” shouted someone from the nobles’ end of the table.

  “Would that it were, Earl Devenor. The queen’s scouts are certain of what they have seen.”

  “Still,” the lord said, his voice rumbling in the rolls of chins under his puffed face. “How could the usurper have managed to enrol so many in such a short time? It has to be a mistake.” He spat as he uttered his p’s and t’s.

  “Bellion,” Halwyn said quietly, and Nefari’s whimper echoed my thoughts. My heart broke for the cropkeeper. The Satyr Bellion had murdered his wife and enslaved his son, and the pain of his loss was etched into the lines around his eyes.

  Morgana turned to him. “Come again, Cropkeeper?”

  “It must be him. In Auberon’s absence, he has built a kingdom of his own, based on tyranny and enslavement.”