The Forever Queen (Pendragon Book 2)

by Nicola S. Dorrington

  “All right, Miss Page. That’s enough.”

  Mackay stepped in front of me, pushing me firmly backwards.

  “Headmaster’s Office. Now.”

  Behind Mackay Sam quietly scooped up the book and the torn pages, tucking them into her bag and fading back into the crowd. I didn’t blame her for it. There was no point her getting into trouble for my sudden bout of insanity.

  “I don’t-“

  “She broke my nose.” Anderson got back on his feet, his hand cupping his nose. “You saw what that crazy bitch did. She shouldn’t be allowed to be around normal people. She’s a complete psycho.”

  “Enough, Mr Anderson,” Mackay snapped, but he looked like he half agreed with him. “The headmaster will deal with it.” He grabbed my elbow, turning to hustle me down the hall.

  I went quietly enough. The rage had drained out of me – gone as quickly as it had come. I felt the first stirrings of shame. In all the years Anderson had been tormenting me I’d never reacted physically. I’d wanted to often enough, but I’d never given into the urges. I’d been spending too much time with Wyn and Percy. It was easy to think that violence was the answer when faced with ogres and wraiths, but I could have really hurt Anderson if someone hadn’t pulled me off him. He might have been twice my size, but I’d been taught to fight by the best, and I was stronger than I looked.

  Mackay didn’t say a word to me as we crossed through the school to the administration wing. Curious glances followed me along the corridors, some openly hostile. At first I couldn’t work out why – even in our school gossip didn’t spread that quickly. Then I noticed the knuckles on my right hand were covered with blood.

  The Headmaster’s office was empty when we got there, but Mackay directed me into one of the chairs as the secretary got on the phone. Mackay headed out into the main office area and came back moments later with some wet tissues.

  “Let me see that.” He nodded towards the hand I still had clenched into a fist.

  I let him take it and slowly clean away the blood. Some of it was mine, I’d split my knuckles on Anderson’s face. The wet tissues made them sting and I winced.

  “Seriously, Caronwyn, what were you thinking?”

  I blinked at him in surprise – half at the use of my full name, and half at the almost gentle tone to his voice. He lifted his head to look at me. He didn’t look angry, more disappointed.

  “I just – I snapped.”

  He sighed. “I realise that. But why now? This shit with Anderson has been going on for years. But you always kept your head held high. Why ruin that now?”

  Embarrassingly tears began to sting my eyes, but there was a flare of anger too. “You knew? You knew how Anderson’s been treating me and you didn’t do anything?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to interfere.”

  “You’re a teacher – it’s your job!”

  A snort of laughter escaped his lips. “I’m not talking about my responsibilities as a teacher, Caronwyn Pendragon.”

  A cold nugget of fear slipped into my stomach and I tugged back the hand he was still holding. He tightened his grip, refusing to let me go. Panic surged up inside me and I glanced desperately around the room, feeling trapped.

  “Who are you?”

  “We’ve been waiting for you for so long – many of us stopped believing you’d ever show up. But I kept faith.”

  “Who are you?” I repeated again, my voice rising.

  “Shush. Keep it down.” He glanced towards the door and back at me. There were voices beyond the door. “Let me do the talking.”

  When the Headmaster arrived Mackay did exactly that. The Headmaster wanted to expel me, or at the very least suspend me, but Mackay talked him round. Instead I ended up with detention all that week, which Mackay offered to oversee. All the while I could barely focus.

  Mackay knew who I was. I didn’t know how, or what it meant, but I didn’t have a good feeling about it.

  That afternoon in detention I did my best not to look at him. Luckily a couple of other students were also being kept back so he couldn’t talk to me about it. I could feel him watching me though. It made my skin crawl. I’d never liked Mackay, now I had a reason to hate him.

  I knew at some point I would have to figure out how much he knew, but I wasn’t ready for it just yet. First Sam and now Mackay. The line between my two worlds was becoming increasingly blurred and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

  He tried to get me to stay back after our time was up, but I shot out of the classroom like a rocket, ignoring him calling my name as I raced down the corridor.

  I knew they’d be waiting for me, so I practically ran for the 4x4 sat just outside the school gate.

  Wyn sat slumped, half asleep behind the wheel, when I clambered into the passenger seat. Percy was nowhere to be seen.

  “What’s wrong?” Wyn asked the second he saw my face, shaking himself out of his stupor.

  “Just drive.”

  He didn’t need telling twice but as soon as we’d put some distance between us and the school he pulled over, cutting the engine and twisting in his seat to look at me.

  “Cara, what’s going on?”

  “He knows who I am.”

  “Who?”

  Mackay.” I lifted worried eyes to look at Wyn. “He called me Caronwyn Pendragon. How could he possibly know?”

  Wyn slumped in his seat. “That’s not good.”

  “It’s not possible,” I corrected him. No one was supposed to know who I was. No one even believed King Arthur was real, let alone that he had an heir floating around somewhere.

  “What exactly did he say?”

  “He called me Caronwyn Pendragon, then he said ‘we’ve been waiting for you’ and something about some of ‘them’ giving up hope.”

  Wyn scrubbed his hand over his face. “How did they figure out it was you?”

  “How did who figure it out?” I hated it when Wyn forgot I still didn’t know much about the world of myth and magic.

  “The Order of Camelot. At least, I assume that’s who he works for.”

  “The what now?”

  “I honestly thought they’d all died out. Merlin didn’t seem to think so, but I was sure they couldn’t have survived this long. But they are the only ones I can think who could possibly have any idea who you are.”

  “Wyn.” There was a dangerous note to my voice. “Will you please stop talking in riddles?”

  He sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. For a moment he reminded me of Lance, when he’d struggled to find the words to tell me who I was. But this wasn’t Lance, it was Wyn, and he had always been willing to be more open with me.

  “After Arthur was killed, the knights of the Round Table were left leaderless,” He said at last. “Many of us continued to fight for Camelot, but it was a losing battle. Arthur was gone, and so was Merlin. The kingdom fragmented. Every petty lord and princeling claimed the throne and a dozen little wars sprung up. Lancelot had already retreated to Joyous Gard, shutting himself up in solitude. No one ever saw him again, save for Merlin. Percy and I, along with one or two others, tried to uphold the ideals of the Round Table. We couldn’t stop the wars, but we could try to prevent the very worst of the atrocities. We tried to uphold our knightly oath and protect those who needed us. For many years I had no word of my fellow knights. We’d had been scattered to the four winds.” He paused, his eyes fixed on a distant point, reliving those long gone days. I knew from conversations with Lance that some of their memories were hazy, whilst other stood out in stark clarity. I reached out and touched his bare forearm. I was better at control my ability now, so instead of slipping completely into his memories as I once would have done I was able to contain it to little flashes, small pictures of the memories he continued to describe.

  “Word began to reach us that a group of our old brotherhood were roaming the countryside. I assumed they were doing much the same as us, until I met one of them in an inn one night. You met him
once. Sir Lamork.”

  I remembered him. He’d met me in the forest with Sir Kay the day I’d found myself centuries in the past. I’d never warmed to him, but he’d been pleasant enough, as courteous as any other knight in Arthur’s court. Now I saw him in Wyn’s memory, older than when I’d known him, his beard greyer, and his armour rusted and dented instead of shining brightly. His years of roaming the countryside after the downfall of Camelot had not been kind to him.

  “Lamork was always a little bit of a fanatic,” Wyn continued. “We all loved Arthur, but he practically worshipped him. He had been one of the closest to Arthur on the battlefield when he fell, and he heard Merlin’s final words; Arthur was the Once and Future King, and the line of Pendragon would always be there for Albion in its darkest hours. Lamork was also there the day we helped Merlin get back inside Camelot, even though it was under siege.”

  “Why did Merlin want to get back inside Camelot? Arthur was dead, you said yourself the kingdom was already imploding.”

  “It was. But Camelot still stood, and the men defending that city would have stood till the very last man to keep the enemy out. Because there was something very precious being kept there.”

  “What? The Round Table?”

  Wyn laughed. “The Table was just a symbol – with Arthur gone it meant nothing. No – the precious thing was Arthur’s young son – your Great-times however many-grandfather.” Wyn looked sad. “He was just a little boy, only a few years old. His mother had been sent away, his father was dead. We went with Merlin to get the boy out to safety.”

  I saw Camelot surrounded, the once high, proud walls damaged and beginning to crumble from an onslaught of boulders thrown by tall trebuchets. The last of Arthur’s knights mounting a charge on the armies surrounding the city. Blood and death as knights were unhorsed, but Wyn at the head of a small group that broke through to the walls. Parts of the city were on fire but the castle still stood. Merlin leading the last remaining knights through the deserted castle hallways. The images faded and I looked up into Wyn’s downcast face.

  “You obviously succeeded,” I said, gesturing to myself.

  Wyn gave me a tight smile. “We did. We made it out of the city, and then Merlin took the young prince. Lamork was one of the first to ask where Merlin was taking him. Merlin refused to tell us. He felt it was best that as few people as possible knew. I had my suspicions about the Lake, but no one can find it without the Lady’s permission so the boy would be safer there than anywhere else in the world. Merlin went on his way and the rest of us separated as well. It had been ten years since that day when I met Lamork in the inn, but he had not forgotten about the young prince and Merlin. In fact he had grown obsessed with it. He believed that the Prince, even though he was just a boy, was the answer to reuniting Camelot, and in turn, Albion. He had gathered together other like-minded knights and nobles and they were tearing the country apart looking for him. They truly believed that if they could place the boy on the throne all would be magically right with Albion again. Lamork asked me to join them – but I refused. I trusted that Merlin knew what he was doing, and if he didn’t want the boy on the throne he had a good reason. I heard about them again and again for the remainder of my life. They took to calling themselves the Order of Camelot. And their sole purpose was restoring to the throne the rightful heir to King Arthur.”

  “And you think Mackay – my English teacher – is part of this Order?”

  Wyn shrugged. “Merlin seemed convinced that the Order still existed. The descendants of those knights and nobles, who have passed down their legends father to son through the centuries. Who else could possibly believe that you are the last of the Pendragon line?”

  “So what do they want with me now?” I knew the answer of course, but I wanted to hear him say it.

  “They want to put you on the throne. According to Merlin they still believe the same thing. That King Arthur’s rightful heir on the throne would solve all the countries problems. It’s an obsession. To them, you are practically a goddess. If Arthur was the Once and Future King, to them you are the Last and Forever Queen. The royal family are merely usurpers of your throne.”

  Chapter Six

  When Wyn finally dropped me home my head still spun with everything he’d told me. I pictured a group of men, and as sexist as it was, in my head they were all men, robed and hooded. Meeting in a candlelit dungeon where they poured over ancient texts and documents trying to trace my lineage through the years. For centuries they must have passed down the legends, father to son, mother to daughter. The only people left in the world who truly believed that Arthur was real. But surely they were just a bunch of fanatics; could they really possibly cause me any problems?

  I dumped my bag at the bottom of the stairs and turned into the kitchen. It took a bit of rummaging but I finally found the packet of chocolate chip cookies on top of one of the cupboards. Biscuits were one of my major weaknesses and Dad knew full well that if he didn’t hide them I’d polish off a packet in practically one sitting. But I needed a sugar hit.

  I’d just flicked the kettle on to make a cup of tea when I heard the front door open and the sound of voices.

  “Well, I must say, it’s very good of you to make a home visit. The media would have us believe that teachers didn’t really care anymore.”

  I froze, a cookie half-way to my mouth.

  “Well, I know Cara has been going through a tough time.”

  I was still frozen in place when Dad and Mackay came around the corner into the kitchen.

  “There she is.” Dad shot me a bright smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Mr Mackay was just telling me about school today.”

  “Oh?” I couldn’t look at Mackay, keeping my eyes focused on Dad instead.

  “Why didn’t you tell me things had gotten so bad? I had a feeling things were tough for you, but I never realised how bad the bullying was.”

  I finally looked at Mackay and he winked at me. Whatever he’d told Dad, it hadn’t been the truth.

  I shuddered. I should have been grateful, but I didn’t want to have some kind of secret understanding with him.

  “Anyway, Mr Mackay wanted to speak to you. I think any support you can get right now is a good thing.” He smiled at both of us. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure Cara will make you a cup of tea if you like, John.”

  Dad slipped out of the kitchen and Mackay turned to smile at me. I didn’t return it.

  “What the hell? You can’t just show up at my house.”

  “Now, now, Cara. I’m just a concerned teacher.”

  “Bullshit.” I didn’t care that he was a teacher, he’d lost any respect from me the second he’d let slip my real name. Was he even a real teacher? Or had he gotten the job just to get closer to me? The thought made my skin crawl.

  He smirked at my expression. “So which of them told you about us? Sir Percival? No, he doesn’t have the brains to figure it out. Sir Gwain of course. It’s a shame really.”

  I ignored his jibe at Percy. “A shame?”

  “Well yes. In different circumstances I would have been honoured to meet him. He was one of King Arthur’s most loyal knights.”

  “But now?”

  Mackay shrugged, perching on the edge of my kitchen table. “I believe he and I have very different purposes.”

  I felt trapped, cornered. “And what is your purpose? What exactly do you want from me?”

  His eyes lit up with a fanatical fire. “I want you to be my Queen. I want you in your rightful place.”

  I wanted to snort in derision, but I couldn’t. Honestly I was a little scared. He really seemed to believe what he was saying. I thought of all those times I had sat in the back of his class. Had he known who I was all that time? “And what about what I want? Doesn’t that matter?”

  Mackay looked confused. “You would be one of the most powerful people in the world. You would be wealthy beyond anything you can imagine. You would want for nothing.”

&nbs
p; “Apart from a normal life. Apart from my family and friends.”

  An almost vicious look crept into his eyes. “What friends? If you mean Gwain and Percival, they are not your friends; they are your loyal servants. Gwain might tell you otherwise, but in his heart of hearts he wants as much as I do to see the rightful heir on the throne. He, Percival, and the rest of my Order would form your new Round Table. Although – we would be less your knights and more your – respected advisors.”

  “Oh right. So it would be less me ruling and more you all ruling through me.”

  “You are just a child, we would of course support you in the infancy of your reign.” He shook his head slightly. “You mistake us if you think we do this for our own gain. You are the rightful Queen, and we would see you restored. With the heir of Arthur on the throne everything that is wrong with the country would be made right.”

  “Just like that?”

  “You don’t have faith, but that’s all right. You will eventually.”

  “Listen, Mr Mackay, if that is your real name – “ He nodded and I continued. “The fact is, I’m not your Queen. Firstly, we already have a Queen and personally, I quite like her. And secondly, I have no interest in it. I know what it’s like to have a great destiny on my shoulders, and quite frankly, it sucks. Right now I just really want to get Lance back and get on with my life.”

  “Ah yes, your boyfriend. The noble Sir Lancelot. Perhaps we can help you there. We’d quite like to get Sir Lancelot back to this world too. He would be quite beneficial to our cause. In fact we may be in possession of some information that can help you.”

  The kettle came to a boil behind us, but neither of us moved. I felt like my heart was lodged somewhere in my throat.

  “Information?”

  Mackay smiled then, but there was something cold and calculating in it. “Of course, to find out what we know, you would have to meet the rest of the Order.”

  I turned on auto-pilot and started making two cups of tea. I handed one to Mackay with shaking fingers. “Tell me more.”