“She can’t do it herself,” I say with growing frustration, “something about being weakened by the attack.”
“Then how come another Fey at the school can’t teach you?” Arthur asks.
“Because they don’t have the ability to contain her should things…get a little rough,” Lugh retorts. “As she cleverly demonstrated earlier today.”
Arthur narrows his eyes at him. “Not even the Watchers?”
Lugh shrugs. “They follow their leader’s orders, and his orders are for them to keep their vows, which include no fighting, and no training others in the art.”
“You seem awfully well aware of what the Watchers are up to,” Arthur says.
“Knowledge is a formidable weapon,” Lugh says with a slight shrug.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Puck’s gotten over his initial fear as he faints one way then jumps between Arthur’s legs to catch the cat’s tail in his pudgy hands. The feline meows, turns quickly around and scratches Puck’s face before jumping into the security of Lugh’s arms.
“Part of being Fey,” Lugh says, petting his cat, “is that we get to know things about each other in ways that common humans cannot.” He winks at me. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, your turn will come. Once you get a hang of your Fey side.”
I feel myself turn an incandescent red at Lugh’s unexpected lovey-dovey attitude towards me, and feel very grateful for the dim lighting in the room.
“I’m still not sold on you being here,” Arthur growls. “What’s to keep me from trapping you here instead? You could be a spy for all I know.”
“You are not powerful enough to take me on,” Lugh says, brushing some nonexistent dust from his shirt, “even with short-fuse over here.”
“Short-fuse?” I repeat, not sure if I should be offended or not.
“You do not seem able to call upon your powers unless you’re throwing some sort of temper tantrum,” Lugh explains.
Arthur’s lips quirk up. “I noticed that too. Couldn’t get the ogham to respond unless she was threatened.”
They both sigh at the same time while shaking their heads.
“You two can get off my back,” I say, definitely offended now.
“You’ve just got to repeat the situation until she gets a better hang of it,” Arthur tells Lugh, ignoring me entirely.
“Perhaps it’s a side effect from the seal,” Lugh says thoughtfully. “It could have repressed her natural instincts.”
“Hey,” I say louder. “I’m right here.”
I recoil as both of them look at me at the same time.
“You’ve got to get in tune with nature,” Lugh says.
“Really?” I say, oozing sarcasm. “And how should I do that? Become a hermit?”
“That could work,” Lugh says.
“But it seems impractical,” Arthur adds.
“You’ll be out in the open where anyone can attack you,” Lugh agrees.
“And I’m afraid solitary confinement, even if voluntary, has a tendency to drive people crazy,” Arthur finishes.
“How did you two become so chummy all of a sudden?” I ask, disgusted with the both of them. Do they really think this is easy for me?
“Well if Lady Vivian’s willing to trust him,” Arthur says, though with some difficulty, “I will try to do so as well. But let me ask you something”—he turns to Lugh—“why did you accept to train Morgan?”
The smile that had been lurking on Lugh’s face melts away. “Let’s just say I’m honor-bound,” he says.
Honor-bound? What is that supposed to mean? Is it because I happened to crash on of his parties? Or because we accidentally kissed once?
But before either Arthur or I can quiz him any further, the door opens up again to let in Lady Vivian, and Puck bounces over to his mistress to hang onto her skirts.
“I see you’re all acquainted,” she says brightly. “That’ll make things a lot easier.”
“I do wish you’d let me know about him beforehand,” Arthur says.
“We weren’t sure how well you’d receive that nugget of information,” says Lady Vivian, patting Puck on the head so he’ll stop clinging to her.
“I would think this is something a little more substantial than a nugget,” Arthur mutters.
I massage my head as the sharp pain from my migraine springs back to the forefront, making it difficult to concentrate on what’s going on. I gasp when a cool hand presses against my forehead.
“What is he doing now?” Arthur asks, reaching for his sword.
“Just a little feverish,” Lugh says, his breath tickling my neck. “It will get better once you figure out how not to use your own energy to source your powers anymore.”
He pulls away, taking my headache away with him.
“What did you do?” I ask, amazed.
“Just gave you a little boost,” Lugh says. “Like I said, once you figure out how to link up to the Aether, you’ll be free to use up as much energy as you want. Well, with some restrictions, but now is not the time to get into details.”
“Aether?” I ask. “What is that? Some sort of magic current I need to plug into to recharge?”
“Same place, same time tomorrow,” Lugh whispers without bothering to answer me. And with a slight nod towards Lady Vivian, he’s gone again.
“There’s no portal in here, is there?” Arthur asks, scanning the floor and walls meticulously.
Lady Vivian lets out a tinkling laugh. “Of course not, that would be too dangerous. He got here as you and I would, on his own two feet.”
“The catacombs,” I say. Then, remembering my own attempted escape from Lake High, I add, “He came here through the tunnels.”
Arthur grunts, then notices the book tucked under Lady Vivian’s arm.
“Gauvain told me you had questions about it,” Lady Vivian says, handing him the thick volume, Milites Fabulae written in large on its cover.
“There’s a passage that caught my attention,” Arthur says, riffling through the pages. “Here. It says that when all the children of God came together, the world seemed as it was in the times before the fall of the Tower of Babel: Everyone working together towards a single goal. And thus the evil plight that represented Carman was banished from this plane.”
Lady Vivian nods, her long, loose curls falling over her shoulder.
“Which reminded me of the words from her stele,” Arthur continues, encouraged. “’Four men to raise the stones their blood did shed, Four Fey their essence over the cairns did spread, Four of the Nephilim to Avalon’s protection their lives vowed, And Danu, to seal the spell, her power over all bestowed.’ Doesn’t that mean that Fey, humans and Nephilim, all children of God, joined hands to vanquish Carman?”
“It could,” Lady Vivian says. “But I am not the one to ask, as I wasn’t yet around when it happened, and you just let the one who could answer you go.”
“What’s a Nephilim?” I ask, before they can delve any deeper into their confusing talk.
Arthur glances over his shoulder at me. “Don’t you remember the passage in Genesis? ‘Now it came about, when men began to multiply on the face of the land, and daughters were born to them, that the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful; and they—”
“—took wives for themselves, whomever they chose,” I finish. “But weren’t they just a name for a race of giants?”
“They are the result of the unholy union between humans and angels,” Arthur says. He freezes, looking at me sheepishly.
“An unholy union like the one between my own parents,” I say, stung. “Thank goodness I didn’t turn out to be a giant, huh? Would’ve been a lot harder to hide me then.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Arthur says, looking pleadingly at Lady Vivian.
But Lady Vivian is already gone, leaving Puck behind.
“Any other insult you might want to throw at me?” I ask, picking the hobgoblin up to stop him from chewing on my boots.
“Yes,” A
rthur says. “I mean no. What I meant was…about Agravain. I wanted you to know I’ll make sure he receives the appropriate punishment for what he did to you.”
“Don’t,” I say, tickling Puck until he starts snorting convulsively. “It’ll only make the division between you guys bigger, and I don’t want you to blame me for getting kicked out of KORT.”
“His actions speak for themselves,” Arthur says, piqued. “And attacking my squire is insult enough.”
“Then stop adding fuel to the fire!” I exclaim. “The school’s already weak enough, and though I hate to admit it, it’s best for everyone around if you’re President instead of that vile pack of flees.” Puck clucks his tongue questioningly at my heated tone, and I pat his round belly to soothe him. “Not you, silly,” I tell the hobgoblin with a smile.
“I can’t let him parade around school as if nothing happened,” Arthur says. “Not when it puts you in danger.”
My breath catches in my throat at his ardent tone. Slowly, I raise my gaze to Arthur’s stern face. Despite the shadows, his eyes hold an intensity that makes me squirm. I clear my throat self-consciously, when we suddenly hear the angry rumble of voices outside our room.
“You are the last person I want to see near that demon!”
The tone is so virulent I have a hard time placing the speaker, but there’s not a trace of doubt in my mind as to who this ‘demon’ is, and that kind of reduces my choices.
“Out of all the knights out there, you should be showing me the most loyalty,” Jennifer continues, her voice filtering through the closed door like it’s made of paper.
“I did not think my actions put my loyalty in question,” Lance says.
“I already have to give way to your relentless pursuit of glory in the name of your dead brother,” Jennifer snarls, “I don’t want to have to place a changeling ahead as well.”
“You don’t,” Lance says curtly. “And do not speak of Gale like that. He was worth a thousand of your ruling families put together.”
“I’m sorry,” Jennifer says, so softly I’m forced to lean forward to hear her. “I didn’t mean to. You know how I hate having Morgan hovering around you, it’s already bad enough Arthur’s picked her as a squire.”
I look over at Arthur—though I’ve known about Lance and Jennifer getting together behind his back, I’ve never dared mention it to him. But Arthur catches my worried look and sets his index finger over his lips conspiratorially.
“You knew all along!” I exclaim, shocked out of my wits.
Outside, the voices grow quiet. Arthur expels a deep sigh and pulls the door open to uncover the quarreling pair. If it weren’t for Lance’s stricken look, I’d relish Jennifer’s utter consternation the whole second it lasts before it dissolves at my sight.
“What were you two doing in there?” she asks, her brow furrowed.
“Training my squire,” Arthur retorts. “I would ask you the same but you’ve already made it abundantly clear.”
My gaze sweeps around the trio uncertainly.
“The more you associate yourself with that tramp the more you’re tainting your blood, Arthur,” Jennifer says.
“You should know a man’s worth isn’t linked to his blood,” Arthur replies calmly. “After all, our families didn’t start at the top, did they?”
Jennifer grinds her teeth together. “Is that what you tell yourself to excuse your incompetence?” She points at me. “If it weren’t for that piece of trash right here, KORT wouldn’t be in shambles right now.” She looks straight at me then, her pale blue eyes filled with so much loathing I’m momentarily left winded. “I wish you’d sat in the Siege Perilous instead of that stupid boy.”
The slap comes quick and loud like a gunshot.
Jennifer remains stunned for a moment while the imprint of Arthur’s hand blossoms on the ivory of her cheek.
Lance places himself before Arthur, shielding Jennifer with his strong body. Not a word passes his lips but it’s abundantly clear he will not let anyone—not even the KORT President—hurt his girl again.
“You’ll be sorry for this, Arthur,” Jennifer says, angry tears pooling into her eyes. “We’ll see how you react when the Board arrives tomorrow. As for you”—she trains her eyes on me like a pair of machine guns—“you better stay out of my sight or, mark my words, I will have your stain removed from the face of the earth.”
With all the dignity she can muster, Jennifer hurries away down the long corridor where the sounds of firing furnaces and cooking orders can be overheard.
I groan inwardly. First Agravain and now Jennifer have both vowed to kill me off in the span of one evening. I look up to the ceiling, wondering if any more turds are going to fall on me tonight.
Chapter 19
“Everyone’s waiting,” Lance says, back to business mode now that Jennifer’s gone.
I raise a questioning eyebrow at Lance, surprised at his ability to dismiss what just happened as if it were a pure figment of my imagination. But Arthur claps him good-humoredly on the shoulder.
“Let’s get going,” he says, walking off briskly.
“Where are we going?” I ask, following the two knights down the hallway in the opposite direction from the kitchens.
“To have a word with the Watchers,” Arthur says.
My footsteps falter as I recall the strange blind Fey who somehow keeps appearing before me whenever bad things happen.
“Why?” I ask, unable to hide my discomfort.
Both Arthur and Lance give me the same look of surprise.
“To get some information, of course,” Arthur finally says.
“Do you, uh, think they could have something to do with the attack?” I ask.
“Of course not,” Arthur says as we turn into a small passage leading downward. “They never interfere with anything, they just observe events unfold.”
“And what about the Siege Perilous?” I ask.
“What about it?” Arthur asks back, looking baffled. But he never saw that Watcher standing at the KORT room’s entrance when Owen was sucked into the Siege Perilous, and I’ve never mentioned it to anyone.
“Don’t you think it’s strange you have something so dangerous hanging out here for anyone to just sit in and get swallowed up by it?” I ask, shaking my head to dispel the memory of Owen’s frightened look. “What if these creepy Watchers put it there to lure innocent knights to sit in it?”
I’m rewarded with another look of utter confusion before Arthur bursts out laughing.
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” I say, annoyed.
“The seat is part of the school’s legacy,” Lance says. “It has always been here. In fact, the school was built around the Siege Perilous, which itself is the center of Avalon.”
“What?”
“Avalon doesn’t start at the forest,” Arthur says, “how else do you think this school can exist under a lake?”
I ignore him and instead fall into step with Lance. “So you guys stole this school from the Fey and then kept their chair of doom?”
“It’s not a chair of doom,” Lance says, steering me around a corner into a darker part of the tunnels.
“Actually,” Arthur says, sidling in between the two of us, “we’re not quite sure what its use is. Only that there’s a spell on it that prevents anyone from sitting in it. Why, we don’t know, but it’s certainly too dangerous to leave it to the Fey.”
“That’s pretty hardcore of them to curse anyone who happens to sit on their stuff,” I say. “I suppose it’s a great anti-theft device though.”
To my utter surprise, Lance bursts out laughing, and I find myself staring at the knight, blinking furiously as if I’ve been looking directly at the sun for too long.
“So, uh,” I say, my brain fried, “are we going to, uh, ask them about it?”
“No,” Arthur snaps, pulling me roughly after him down a narrow staircase.
◆◆◆
“There ya are!” says a moody Percy, loun
ging against a large archway, Gareth and Gauvain brooding next to him.
Across from them are Hadrian and a very sour-looking Keva, who seems about to topple over under the weight of a ginormous pile of books.
“We’ve been waitin’ for hours in this rank place,” Percy adds.
“They’re just tunnels, Percy,” Arthur says, handing Milites Fabulae to Hadrian who sets it atop the pile of books held in Keva’s already shaky arms.
“Do they know we’re coming?” I ask, uneasy. I may be part-Fey myself, but my history with that side of creation isn’t stellar.
“They always know what’s happening,” Gauvain says.
“Kano,” Percy whispers, and a series of small orbs of light blinks into existence above us, dancing in the air like a bunch of obese fireflies.
A large iron door comes into view within the archway’s deep recess, its surface inscribed with strange glyphs. Arthur places his hand over a large, grey stone where the doorknob should be, and a red light blazes beneath his fingers. There’s a soft click and the door swings open without a sound.
One by one, we silently file inside the dark chamber. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to obscurity, but when they do, I find myself wishing I’d remained oblivious to the strange, swaying shadows that dwell within the vast hall.
As I follow the knights, I catch wisps of a strange litany ebbing and flowing from the shadows, and hug myself as I recognize its narcotic rhythm—it’s the same voices I heard during my attempted escape from jail.
One of Percy’s floating lights settles on one of the shadows, briefly lighting a pale face, dead of all emotion or movement except for the lips mouthing the words of the chant.
Something shifts in the air, and I instinctively yank Arthur backward.
“Stop being so jumpy,” he whispers.
But an eerie hiss rises before us and we look down to find a snake slithering away, its dark scales occasionally reflecting Percy’s fiery orbs. The other knights suddenly fan out around us, their fingers twitching by their weapon-heavy belts.
“And so the chosen finally deigns to come,” a sultry, if sardonic, voice says.
A tall, lithe woman steps forward, then kneels down to let the snake wrap itself around her forearm. As she stands back up, a ring of light falls upon a pair of almond eyes set in a dark face, a scar over the left eyebrow marring otherwise perfectly symmetrical features.
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