Morgana Trilogy Complete Series

by Alessa Ellefson

  “As for you, Elias,” she adds, “you should stop spouting nonsense and concentrate instead on your combat training. I’ve seen you fumble enough times at practice to know I wouldn’t dare trust you with a butter knife.”

  Stunned, we watch Bri’s eyes go vacant again before she walks off into a side hallway and disappears around a corner.

  “T-that’s the most I’ve h-heard her say s-since the battle,” Elias says, stooping over once more.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Jack says quietly with an apologetic smile. “She must’ve seen that list, and in her already unstable emotional state….”

  With a tired sigh, he points at a long piece of paper filled with names pinned next to the article we’ve just read.

  “Bri, wait up!” Jack shouts, leaving us behind to run after her. “You’ve forgotten to have lunch again!”

  “What is it?” I ask, drawing closer to the stapled page.

  “Everyone who’s been k-killed in action or gone m-missing since the war s-started,” Elias says.

  I quickly scan the names, then my eyes widen as I read the last entry:

  Vaughan, Owen (†)

  ◆◆◆

  I’m still reeling from the shock of seeing Owen’s name on the list when I find Keva in our usual spot behind the KORT section, munching furiously on her salad like an angry goat.

  “I’m so done with that girl,” she says, stabbing a piece of tomato with her fork so viciously it sprays juice across the table top. “In fact, I’m done with the whole Vaughan family.”

  “Yeah, well, if you find a way to quit your job, please let me know,” I say, sitting down to eat.

  “Not quit,” Keva says, “just jump ships.” She points towards the doors with her fork as Lance walks in. “Wouldn’t mind asking him if he’d take me on. I mean, he’s never had a squire, surely I can show him what he’s missing.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine without having someone drooling over him every second,” I say. That and he probably doesn’t want a witness to his secret love affair with his best friend’s girl. “But if he’s interested, let me know, anyone’s better than Arthur.”

  Keva tsks. “Not likely to happen,” she says. “You’re lucky anyone even wanted you. Why do you hate Arthur so much anyway?”

  “Many reasons,” I say, quickly losing my appetite. “Did you know he still won’t tell me anything about my father? Every time I ask him, he’s got something more urgent to do first. It’s like he’s avoiding me or something.”

  “Maybe you just don’t know how to handle him,” Keva says with a shrug. “Use your feminine charms on him and you’ll have him wrapped around your pinky. It shouldn’t be that hard, especially since he already cares so much about you.”

  I choke on my iced tea, sloshing it down the front of my uniform. “I shudder to think about how he treats those he doesn’t care about then,” I say, mopping myself up with my napkin.

  “I’m serious,” Keva says. “It’s just that he has to hide it”—she lowers her voice—“because of who he’s currently engaged to, you know. Wouldn’t do to make an enemy of her when her father’s so powerful, would it?”

  My eyes automatically focus on a blonde head a few tables down. I watch Jennifer as she lets out a tinkling laugh, displaying her perfectly-aligned white teeth and the gracile curve of her alabaster neck.

  A few rows behind her, I spot Lance, stopped dead in his tracks as if struck down by the sight of her. I shake my head, unable to comprehend how a guy as good and honest as Lance could ever fall for such a devious girl as Jennifer.

  “I just don’t get it,” I mutter to myself.

  “Wow, you know really nothing about boys, do you?” Keva says, misinterpreting my words. “I mean, hello? Arthur liking you is, like, so obvious! Just look at how he keeps running to your rescue! He definitely has the prince charming syndrome down as far as you’re concerned. I’m telling you, if you handled him a little differently, you’d be able to get anything out of him. Want me to help?”

  “Help?” I repeat, not a little afraid at Keva’s sudden fanatical tone.

  “We’ll start with the tried and true first,” Keva says. “I’ve recently become quite an adept at writing fake love letters. Yours could start with: Dearest Arthur, I’m sorry I seem so grouchy around you all the time these days, but I don’t know how else to hide my growing feelings for—”

  “Are you insane?” I cry out.

  Keva’s grin widens. “Trust me, it’ll work,” she says. “All he needs is a little push.”

  I blush despite myself and glance quickly across the way to the KORT zone, but thankfully nobody seems to have heard her. The last thing I need is for more tasteless rumors to start circulating about me, especially with such a wicked, possessive harpy like Jennifer around.

  As if she knows I’m thinking about her, Jennifer turns slightly in her seat to look at me, her previous mirth obliterated.

  “Morgan?” a deep voice says.

  Startled, I look up to find Lance has stopped at our table. Even from this close he looks perfect, no blackheads or pimple scars to mar his smooth skin, and I have to force myself to look away from his sapphire-blue eyes. Keva, on the other hand, appears to have looked straight at a basilisk and turned to stone, mouth still wide open.

  I let out a sigh, dropping my silverware back onto the table, my plate barely touched.

  “What did I do this time?” I ask sulkily.

  Lance’s usually expressionless face cracks into a tiny smile, just long enough to show his dimples, and I hear Keva suck in her breath.

  “Nothing,” he says. “Yet. And that’s why I’m here. Arthur needs to see you.”

  “I already helped with the repairs this morning,” I say moodily. “His door is back in working order.”

  “He wants you to go to the library,” Lance says. “Now.”

  “Oh, he does, does he?” I say, annoyed. But when I see the scowl on Lance’s face, I add, “Fine. I didn’t want to go to practice anyway.”

  “Now means now, Morgan,” Lance says. “Not in an hour’s time.”

  “I realize that,” I say, “but I’m in the middle of lunch here. And though I may be part Fey, I still need food to survive.” I punctuate my last words by sawing a large piece of steak and stuffing it in my mouth.

  “You really shouldn’t be like that, Morgan,” Lance says, shaking his head as I nearly choke on the piece of meat. “These are tough times we’re in, and we’ve suffered quite a number of casualties. Everyone needs to chip in as they can, yourself included.”

  “He handled himself quite well without a squire before,” I retort, taking a big gulp of my drink to wash the piece of steak down. But Lance’s words have had their desired effect on me, and I look away in guilt.

  I let my gaze trail over to the center of the room where Jennifer and her cronies are still enjoying themselves, apparently not taking this whole war business quite as seriously as Lance and Arthur are.

  With a jolt of surprise, I catch Jennifer still glaring at me. Why can’t the girl leave me alone? Then again, I realize, her lover’s bypassed her table to come talk to me, a slight she’ll probably never forget.

  A slow smile spreads on my face as I realize she must be dying of jealousy right now, and I can’t help but enjoy getting her to squirm for once.

  I put my hand on Lance’s forearm, before simpering up at him. “Alright,” I say, batting my eyelashes. “You can tell Arthur I’ll be right there, just as soon as I’m done here. And I promise I’ll eat fast!”

  My shift in attitude must have taken Lance by surprise for he looks flustered, mouth agape. Finally, he straightens up, nods curtly at me, and strides back outside.

  “That’s exactly what I was talking about,” Keva says. “Now just do that in front of Arthur, and you’ll get him to talk. You may want to drop the whole fluttering of eyelashes though, it makes you look like you’re having a seizure.”

  I shrug. Doesn’t matter what she thinks, o
r even Lance for that matter. I glance at Jennifer and have the pleasure of seeing her scowling so fiercely she may be in danger of looking common for the first time in her life. With another smile, I wave at her before returning to my meal.

  “Now what were you saying about Arthur?” I ask, making sure to cut my steak in smaller, more manageable chunks.

  But I barely have a chance to swallow another bite when someone kicks my chair from underneath me and I fall forward, cracking my head on the table and spilling my food everywhere.

  “Now that was quite unnecessary,” I say, rubbing my chin as I get back up.

  “We’re just getting rid of the trash,” Jennifer’s mellifluous voice says as she struts over with her whole retinue. “There’s been such a nasty smell about the place lately.”

  “Must be your breath then,” I mutter. “You should make sure to brush your teeth twice a day and floss regularly you know.”

  I have the pleasure of seeing Jennifer flush in anger before someone slaps my face with the power of a demolition ball. Tears spring to my eyes and I cup my burning cheek.

  “You’ll speak with respect when addressing Lady Jennifer,” says a round-faced boy, his tightly curled hair bouncing on his head like tiny springs.

  I immediately recognize him as Hector, the KORT knight who wanted me back in jail when Arthur introduced me as his squire. Behind him, Jennifer’s little fan club chortles loudly, pleased to see me humiliated in such a public fashion, Daniel loudest of all.

  “I’ll treat her the way she deserves to be treated,” I retort, feeling the tell-tale signs of anger bubbling beneath my skin.

  “It’s OK, Hector,” Jennifer says, flinging her long, golden hair back. “She’s too used to her own stink to notice it, just as demons can’t tell the smell of sulfur anymore either.” She circles me like a vulture, grimacing. “You may think you have duped us into believing you’re one of ours, but you can’t fool me. You never have. Not with those eyes of yours.”

  I catch myself lowering my eyelids before I stop. I will not bow down to anyone anymore, least of all her.

  “Be careful, Lady Jennifer,” Sophie says. “Look at how she’s glaring at you. I heard she set a guard on fire with her witchcraft simply for standing in her way.”

  “Witchcraft?” Jennifer says, laughing delicately. “It’s been a while since we’ve had an execution for such a capital offense, but I think it’s high time we reinstated the tradition, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely,” Sophie says with a malevolent smirk.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Hector says, his hand going to a dagger at his belt. “Her kind don’t make for that great of a fire display, but they can make pretty good slaves, and we are suffering from a shortage of oghams.”

  I watch Daniel push his way to the front of the little crowd. “Let me do the honors of capturing her ogham for you,” he says, bowing to Jennifer.

  “Buzz off, Daniel,” Keva says. “Nobody’s asked anything of you. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to handle more than an elemental anyway.”

  Daniel’s face turns bright red. “Stay out of this, Kulkarni, if you know what’s good for you,” he says.

  But his words don’t seem to have much of an effect on Keva. “What would be good for me,” she says, “would be not to have to listen to you braying everywhere all the time. It stresses me out. And if I’m stressed out, my adrenal glands are overworked, which is bad for my sleep, and therefore bad for my looks.”

  “Enough!” Hector says, his fists glowing blue. “That changeling’s made a mockery of our Order by becoming a squire, and is further sullying us by disrespecting our ranks. I will send that demon spawn back where she belongs.”

  There’s a flash of blue and Hector’s meaty fist swings towards me, catching me in the nose. I hear a loud crunch as my head snaps backwards, before I go crashing through tables and chairs like a bowling ball through pins.

  I finally come to a stop among a group of screaming pages, feeling like I’ve just been trampled over by a pack of elephants. Shaking my head clear, I slowly get back to my feet and wipe the blood from my nose.

  Time to fight fire with fire.

  Whatever barrier inside me was keeping my anger in check disintegrates, and I feel a tingling sensation spread quickly through my limbs, hot and demanding, before flames burst to life above my outstretched fingers.

  “Morgan, what are you doing?” Keva says, skirting the upturned chairs and spilled food to get to me.

  “He attacked first,” I say, blowing a strand of hair out of my eyes.

  “He’s a KORT knight, and human,” Keva says, more urgently. “Behaving like this isn’t going to help your case.”

  “I know and I don’t care,” I growl.

  Behind her, I see Hector crouch into a fighting position.

  “Get out of the way, Keva,” I say.

  But before she can react, Hector bounds forward, a high-speed jet of water shooting from his left hand towards me. Except Keva’s in the way, her back still turned to him. I curse under my breath and jump towards her, my flames roaring high before me like a gigantic barrier.

  I reach Keva and pull her away, using my body to shield her as the stream of water hurls into my flames in a loud, hissing explosion of blazing vapor.

  Then something long and sharp cuts into my side, scraping off my ribs. Screaming, I let go of Keva before falling over. I’m dimly aware of doors slamming open and booted feet pounding the floor on their way over as Hector pulls his knife back out and crouches over me.

  “What do you think you’re doing to my squire?” Arthur roars.

  There’s a flash of green and Hector shoots through the air onto one of the fluted pillars, then remains pinned to it, five feet above the floor.

  I roll over in pain, and someone comes to help me up.

  “You alright there?” Lance asks.

  I nod, not trusting myself to speak as Arthur eyes my torn jacket, blood still dripping profusely from it.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he asks, turning towards Hector. “Why did you attack my squire?”

  “Darling,” Jennifer says, laying her hand on Arthur’s arm to calm him down. “She was being insubordinate, and since you weren’t present to subdue her, we decided to handle the business ourselves. Unfortunately”—she pouts prettily—“your pet is quite feral and attacked us.”

  “Is this true?” Arthur asks me, his grey eyes blazing.

  I feel myself blanch at the injustice of the accusation and at how quickly he’s ready to take her side. It doesn’t matter what I tell him at this point, I realize, he wouldn’t believe me anyway.

  “Yes,” I say scathingly, and wince as my insides twist viciously, as if Hector’s knife were still stuck inside me.

  Lance tightens his hold around my arms to prevent me from dropping to the floor and I wince as he presses against my wound.

  “That is not true, Sir Arthur,” Keva says, edging forward. “They attacked Morgan while we were eating, the moment Sir Lance left us.”

  “She used her powers against us, Arthur,” Jennifer says, frowning at Keva, obviously unaccustomed to having people contradict her. “Clearly she can’t be controlled. You need to put her back in jail, at the very least, before she does anything worse.”

  “She did it to protect me,” Keva says louder.

  I blink at her, surprised at her vehement defense of me, especially against someone of Jennifer’s social standing.

  “If it hadn’t been for Morgan,” Keva continues, repressing a shiver, “Hector would have killed me.”

  Quick as an eel, Sophie advances on Keva and slaps her. “How dare you speak against a knight, squire!” Sophie snarls. “You should be flogged for such base conduct.”

  “I will decide who gets to be punished and for what,” Arthur growls, and Sophie skips fearfully back to Jennifer’s side, as if stung.

  “If you don’t believe me,” Keva says, “ask Morgan.”

  “Who in their
right mind would ever trust a Fey?” Jennifer asks with a roll of the eyes.

  “It’s because she’s Fey that you should trust her,” Keva says with a tight smile. “You see, she can’t lie.”

  A stunned silence welcomes her words, and I feel every gaze level upon me once again.

  “How can you be so sure?” Arthur asks, frowning deeply.

  “She’s in violent pain whenever she tries to, Sir,” Keva says. “I’ve seen it happen.”

  My eyes grow wide at the revelation. I have heard of Fey being unable to lie before, I just never expected it to be one of the traits I’d inherit from them. That would certainly explain a thing or two. I lower my gaze at Keva in annoyance—she had to hide that from me too, didn’t she?

  “Try her,” Keva says. “See for yourself.”

  Arthur looks at me pensively. “Are you hurt?” he asks.

  I frown at the obviously fake concern in his voice. “No,” I say through gritted teeth, waiting for pain to rake my body before I realize I spoke true.

  Looking down, I see white, flawless skin peeking out from the hole in my shirt, the knife wound healed over as if it never were. I let my breath out in a sharp hiss of surprise.

  Lance’s hand carefully prods my ribcage, inadvertently tickling me, and I burst out in nervous giggles.

  “The injury’s healed over,” he says, stepping away from me.

  After a second’s hesitation, Arthur nods, as if he might have been expecting it.

  “Did you get into an altercation with the Lady Jennifer?” Arthur asks next.

  “Her and I fight? Never, we’re best friends her and I,” I say sarcastically.

  But the words have barely left my lips when I double over in pain, as if someone has reached in and pulled my innards out. My vision clouds over and I feel myself sink to the floor, before strong, sturdy arms steady me.

  “Convenient, isn’t it?” Keva says merrily before winking at me. “She comes with a built-in lie detector.”

  “Who attacked you?” Arthur asks, as Lance helps me regain my balance.