The knight stiffens as Urim throws his arm around her shoulders. “I know the reports from down under weren’t exactly glorifying,” he says, “but can’t you tell a revolution when it’s staring straight at you?”
“Is that what this is?” someone asks from the other side of the fallen bookcases, and we all grow still at the honeyed voice.
“Jen?” Lance says, growing even paler. “What are you—”
I turn on him. “I thought you said she didn’t know!” I growl.
Lance winces. “I thought…I didn’t mean…”
Bri releases a shocked cry, springing back as the bookcases that were shielding us from view burst into flames. Owen puts his hand on her arm, fathomless eyes calm. Next to them, Urim and Thummim look panicked. And through the acrid smoke, I can see Jennifer turn towards someone else.
“Didn’t I say they were acting strange?” she asks, her words tumbling out. “So, will you believe me now about Mordred’s little expedition?”
The other person laughs, sending shivers down my back. I was wrong. I should never have doubted Mordred. Jennifer’s the one I should’ve kept an eye on instead.
“I know all about Mordred’s whereabouts,” Carman says, and Jennifer’s boastful smile drops.
Tendrils of dark smoke come out of her dress to smother the fire, and my stomach turns at the stench of sulfur that quickly overpowers the smell of burning books.
“In fact,” Carman continues, finally stepping into our line of sight, “I believe he and the Pendragon heir are meeting right about now. Though perhaps not under very amicable terms as some here might think.”
The lump in my stomach grows to the size of a fist. How can Carman know what’s happening with Mordred and Arthur if none of us do? Unless…
“She’s sent her dragon after them,” Gale says, voicing my own fears.
Carman’s smile deepens across the smoldering remains of the bookcases, dimpling her cheeks. “Did you not think I’d know about your silly plotting?” she asks unctuously. “Well, at least this way I can get rid of all these nuisances at once, and get my hands on your oghams.”
My heart’s hammering so loud, I can’t make out what she says next.
“What did you plan for this predicament?” Urim asks me in a rush.
“I say screw the plans,” Thummim says, sounding scared.
Carman sweeps her hand sideways and the remains of the bookcases crumble to the floor, leaving the passage free for her to go through.
No.
I won’t let her even so much as lay a finger on any of my friends.
I gather Gadreel’s power, feeling it pulse urgently under my skin.
“Run,” I tell the others.
The wind shifts behind me as I throw my arms out, energy blazing around our small group in a wide arc, covering my friends’ retreat through the single window.
“No, you’re mine!” Carman shouts.
I flinch as her power slams into mine, cords of darkness writhing across my shield, looking for a weakness. I risk a look over my shoulder. Thummim is pushing Bri up through the window, Lance and Owen waiting for their turns.
“Missstressss,” the banshee says in warning.
My feet slip on the cluttered floor as Carman pushes me back, the veins in her face darkening.
“It’s time to stop playing,” she says. “Now be a good girl, and come along.”
I grit my teeth, straining against her. “Over. My. Dead. Body!”
My power flares at that last word. There’s a bright flash, and the dark tendrils disintegrate, forcing a hiss out of Carman’s mouth. I stare in shock as she holds onto her arm, smoke drifting up where I burned her.
I feel empty, my newfound energy spent, a migraine pushing behind my eyeballs, but I find myself laughing. I can’t believe it! I thought for sure she was going to kill me, but instead I’m the one who hurt her!
“I always said she was unhinged,” I hear Jennifer mutter from a corner.
With a snarl, Carman wheels on her, flinging Jennifer into the wall with a sharp crack.
Still giddy and somewhat lightheaded, I turn to follow the others out the window, but the air around me suddenly thickens until I can hardly move.
“You little tramp! You dare defy me even now?” Carman seethes, breathing heavily.
Her power’s pressing down on me, an unbearable weight that makes my bones groan. She wants me on my knees, begging for my life, for those of my friends, though we both know she’d kill us all the same.
Spots dance in my vision as I will myself to stay standing. I blink slowly as one of the spots grows larger, turning into a flying rat. I blink again, and the rat is now bobbing through the air behind Carman, waving its tiny arms about frantically. Papillon?
Then everything goes black.
◆◆◆
The whole world explodes before my very eyes, earth heaving and splintering, sending knights, Fey and beasts alike sprawling to the ground. There’s another mighty roar, then fire blazes through the forest, one massive gust that burns everything down indiscriminately.
Arthur…
The silent cry echoes through my mind in a wave of panic. My eyes try desperately to adjust to the sudden brightness, but all is purple smoke and orange flames. White light pulsates to life, and I allow myself a breath of relief as Arthur swings Excalibur around.
Another thunderous growl rips through the air, fanning the flames higher. The dragon’s right above us.
Arthur.
But Arthur doesn’t react to my cry. And while he’s tracking the dragon’s destructive path, I keep my focus on the man creeping towards us through the smoke, unhindered. Mordred’s tattooed face splits into a smile, sending shivers down my back.
Arthur!
Fear courses down my veins, sending my thoughts into a frenzy. Mordred’s brought the dragon into Lugh’s lair, and they’re killing everyone I love. I should never have left Arthur’s side! I should have never trusted my brother…
The ground splits at Arthur’s feet, clearing a path through the flames. Through the shimmering heat, I see Gareth and Gauvain rush over, their dark faces glistening with sweat.
“The tree’s done for!” Gauvain shouts, wincing at the sound of distant screams.
“At least Lugh’s had time to take everyone to safety, but—”
“We need to keep that beast occupied,” Arthur says with a strangled cough.
My heart is beating so wildly I feel like throwing up. How can nobody see him? Mordred’s almost upon us.
“Stop!” I shout at him.
Despite the vision, a part of me is still aware of what’s happening inside the library, and I see Carman cock her head, squinting at me in confusion.
To my surprise, Mordred pauses. “Convinced now, boys?” he asks aloud.
“Yeah,” Gareth replies, face sheening with sweat. “Ready to skin the thing?”
“Ready,” both Mordred and Arthur reply at the same time.
My heart skips a beat. My mind stops spinning. Did I hear that right? Then, at last, I feel a smile tug at my lips.
And at last, understanding dawns on Carman’s face, while in the vision, her dragon rears in anger, knowing it has been betrayed.
◆◆◆
“Mistresssss!”
I blink at the banshee’s shout, breathing heavily, before realizing that Carman’s left.
“Where is she?” I ask shakily.
The banshee motions wordlessly towards the rest of the library. I shake my head to try to clear it. Why did she leave? I’ve spent most of Gadreel’s powers, she would’ve won, she—
“Can’t believe it, but I believe she got scared.”
I jump at Lance’s voice. The knight is leaning against an upturned table, holding Jennifer’s limp body in his arms.
“Didn’t realize you’d come back, and for her nonetheless,” I say thickly, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest.
Everyone left when I told them to, everyone but the ban
shee. And he would have gone too if it hadn’t been for Jennifer, even if it meant facing Carman’s wrath.
Lance’s arms tighten around Jennifer, pressing her to his chest. “She’s all I have,” he says simply.
“She dumped you a long time ago,” I say, “traded you in for another the second you were no longer cool or useful. Saint George’s balls, she’s betrayed us all to Carman! And yet here you are—”
“She’s all I have,” Lance repeats, a little more fiercely.
I swallow the insult I was about to throw at him.
He’s still in love with her. Always has been. Always will be. No matter how vile she is, no matter all the damage she’s caused, the blood on her hands. He’ll always run back to her.
“You make me sick,” I finally say.
Lance blanches, but remains otherwise motionless, and a part of me feels ashamed at having lashed out at him. He can’t help how he feels. It’s not his fault Jennifer’s a soul-sucking troll.
I point a blackened finger at him. “Just…just keep her out of my sight,” I growl.
He nods, already moving to take her some place safe.
“Oh, this is not good,” a tiny voice says, buzzing around my ear, and I find myself staring at a scared Papillon.
“So it was you,” I say, surprised to find the flying mouse here. With Danu’s permission, Arthur and I enrolled the small creature to help us coordinate our attacks, without drawing any undue attention. “I thought you were supposed to be with the others at the front?”
“Came to say they’re on their way, and that the girl’s waiting for your sign so she can finish the ward reversal,” Papillon says, wringing his tail in his paws. “But this is bad. This is very bad, indeed, if Carman’s escaped.”
“She’s still here,” I say, licking my parched lips.
Carman didn’t leave because she’s scared. She sensed we made a pact with my brother, and now that he’s left the school, she can’t afford to kill me. I’m the only one left who can open the seventh Gate.
“This is exactly what we wanted,” I continue. “You need to go back to Arthur, and let him know to get here ASAP.”
“You mean they’ve found the d-d-dragon?” Papillon asks, eyes growing larger than his wide ears.
I smile weakly. “No, my friend. The dragon found them. Now they need to bring it here.”
And I must make sure Carman stays here, within the school boundary, where she can cause the least trouble.
Adrenaline pumping down my veins, I rush across the library, no longer caring who sees me or not. This is it. Time to put the monsters back in their box.
I burst through the doors into the dark hallways, slipping over a wet patch of tar. I catch myself on the wall, then make for the exit, the banshee on my tail.
“Upssstaiirsss,” she says.
Without breaking pace, I turn into the nearest staircase. We’ve barely made it up a couple of steps when a figure jumps in front of us, metallic leg gleaming despite the darkness.
“You again,” I mutter, shoulders bunching in annoyance.
Agravain grins fiercely. “Me. Always me. Until your dying breath.”
“You know, if you have a crush on me, you should just say so,” I say, sounding strangely like Keva.
Agravain’s sunken cheeks twitch, then, in a flash, he pounces forward. I raise a hand to parry his attack, power surging in response. But before either of us can make contact, the banshee slips in between us, and catches Agravain’s blow on her obsidian knife.
Agravain lets out an unhinged laugh. “Letting your pet do the dirty work for you?” he asks, following his strike with an elbow to her head.
The banshee dodges, aiming her knife at his legs next, not knowing it is no longer flesh and bone. Stone hits metal, spraying sparks across the stairs.
“Off, you hag!” Agravain mutters, slashing his sword down.
Blood lashes my face, warm and slick, and the banshee falls silently to the floor.
Power flaring in anger, I vault over my friend’s body, whipping my arms around. Wind whistles in my ears before punching through the wall behind Agravain in an explosion of stone and plaster.
“That was closer than I thought,” Agravain says, wiping the blood flowing from his cut ear onto his shoulder, the rest of him unfortunately still whole.
“That was a warning,” I tell him. “You do not touch my friends.”
“You know what’s funny?” Agravain asks, smirking. “Seeing how much you care about all those Fey when all they want is to see you dead.”
My stomach lurches. “If you’re talking about that prophecy, I already know of it. And you know what I think?” The air around me crackles. “That you can shove it.”
I barely register the smoke pooling out of my fingers as I point at the knight. The grey smoke shoots across the landing, turning into tentacles of black tar midair.
Agravain ducks, but he’s not fast enough, and my power wraps around his left arm, a black coil that pulls him back to me. With a cry of rage, Agravain turns to hack at the tentacle, but this isn’t something human metal can touch. I twist my fingers together, sending another burst of power, and more black ropes whip around Agravain’s legs, and sword arm, threatening to pulverize them. At last, he stops struggling.
“P-P-Please,” Agravain stutters, pupils dilated with fear.
He’s back to being a boy now, a little boy who played with fire before realizing that flames do burn. But there’s no pity inside me for him. He burned that away too.
Agravain makes another feeble attempt to pull himself free, the smell of searing flesh and rotten eggs heavy in the hallway as the dark bindings bite into his flesh and metal legs, eating him alive.
“You’re done killing my friends,” I tell him, “you and the rest of the traitors.”
I make myself watch until his fingers stop twitching, and his pleas have turned into an indistinct mewling. Then, with a last shudder, Agravain’s mouth drops open, drool dripping down his chin, glassy eyes staring sightlessly at the floor.
Only then do I finally turn away.
◆◆◆
Arthur is pacing about a wide clearing, pockmarked by strange piles of stones. Cairns, as far as the eye can see, rising at different heights in a convoluted maze. The cousins are with him, as well as Hadrian, Daniel and Keva, all waiting silently, while Sir Hengist, Lugh, Oberon, and my uncle confer together further away.
Somehow, they’ve lost the dragon. Or, and this scares me more than I dare admit, Carman’s sent her beast far away, out of reach.
Arthur finally stops his pacing, and turns to stare at a lone figure standing incongruously to the side. I start at the sight of Mordred, his tattooed body leaning lightly against one of the cairns, golden eyes lost in the distance.
After everything that’s happened, I still can’t believe it’s him, that he’s there with the others, working with them. Neither, apparently, can the older knights.
“We have decided to wait here until we get a message for affirmative action from Morgan,” my uncle says, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Going in too soon would be too risky considering the stakes.”
“Don’t be daft,” Mordred says, with barely veiled contempt. “You think Carman’s going to wait for us before she attacks my sister?”
“I thought your people were helping her?” Sir Cade says.
Mordred bristles, and I wonder if either Urim or Thummim has managed to report to him what’s happened here. “They can’t face Carman on their own either,” he concedes at last.
Sir Hengist’s lips curl in disdain. “The plan was clear. We wait for a sign from the school. Until then, our runners will keep track of the dragon and keep it busy. That’s final.”
The Errant Companions’ leader returns his attention to a map laid out on the ground between him and Lugh. The other knights exchange uncomfortable glances, then fall away as well, leaving Mordred alone but for Arthur.
“You know how I first found out about he
r?” Arthur asks after a long minute, before going to lean against the stone pillar next to Mordred’s.
“Spare me,” Mordred says, rolling his eyes.
“It was three years ago,” Arthur continues. “I’d been snooping around in my parents’ office, when I found a whole pile of unread letters in the trash can.”
I gasp in surprise. My letters. The ones I’d written back when I still believed Irene was my mother, telling her about my life at school, hoping that one day I would finally get an answer back.
I’d forgotten about them, but hearing Arthur mention them brings back that sting of hurt and disappointment I’d felt every day when the mail was distributed, watching the other students open their care packages with glee, while my desk remained empty.
“Ah, yes, Morgan’s sniveling letters,” Mordred says, sounding bored.
Of course, he knows all about them. He was with me during the writing of many of them.
“They weren’t sniveling,” Arthur retorts, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “They were actually…fun. Full of intriguing details, terrible sketches, and a longing for a home that—”
“If you thought our alliance was an overture for you to pour all your meaningless feelings to me, you were dead wrong,” Mordred cuts him off.
“I thought you’d welcome the talk,” Arthur says after a long pause.
Mordred snorts. “With you? Are you mad?”
My view bobs up and down as Arthur shrugs. “Who else have you got?” he asks. “I don’t suppose those who raised you were much for it, and I know for a fact Jennifer can’t stand conversations unless she’s the one doing all the talking.”
To my surprise, Mordred chuckles. “You’re right on both counts, mortal,” he says, “but with our probable end near, I don’t think I’ll change the way I do things now.”
“Artie, Rip’s coming over,” Gauvain shouts from further down the clearing.
Arthur quickly straightens as the strikingly pale man shuffles over, carrying something furry in his cupped hands.
“What is it?” Arthur asks.
Rip lifts both hands up to show Papillon sitting there, long ears drooping in exhaustion.
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