“And all the suffering and loss it took to get here?” Guinevere asked, devastated and heartbroken for herself. For Igraine. For Arthur. For Mordred. For all the lives that had been stained by the darkness of Merlin’s choice.
“Such is the cost of progress.” Mordred glanced at her. Apparently some of her emotion was evident even in the near-darkness. His voice went soft. “I am sorry. I should not speak of such things to a lady. It was indelicate of me.”
“No, I am glad. I would rather know the truth. I do not like being behind walls, either in the castle or in Arthur’s life.” Or her own.
Merlin had done that. He had done that, and not told her.
What else did he keep from her? How could she trust him? And if she could not trust the wizard who chose her to protect Arthur, how could she trust herself?
* * *
It was fully dark when they reached Arthur’s camp. He stood at the edge, waiting. Her anticipation of seeing him had turned tense and sour in light of Mordred’s revelations. They had much to discuss. Too much. Arthur helped Guinevere down from her horse, then surprised her by giving her a quick but fierce embrace.
“Thank you for coming,” he whispered against her ear.
“Of course.” She could feel the heat in her cheeks at his nearness. “We need to talk. Alone.”
He put her hand on his elbow and walked her into the camp. “I am sorry to bring you here. It will be unpleasant. And dangerous.”
She squeezed his elbow. “I am here to protect you. However that happens.” Some of her anxiety loosened at his words. It was irrational to be relieved at being put in danger, but at least she had not been pulled from her campaign against Rhoslyn and the patchwork knight for nothing.
The camp was bigger than she had expected. Not only did Arthur have all his knights with him, he also had a hundred fighting men.
“Do you expect a fight?” she asked.
“What?” Arthur lifted a tent flap, bringing her into a dim, enclosed space. The ground was covered in furs. Though it was summer, the nights still had teeth.
“So many men.”
“Oh. No. The fight did not happen. Gildas and Geoffrey, two lords, were feuding, and it was spilling over my borders. I had to remind them to keep their quarrels to themselves.” He paused, and his smile was weary. “They do not want me to become one of their problems. Showing up on their doorstep with this many men was a good reminder. For the meeting with the Pictish king, most of the men will stay here. I will take only my best knights. Enough to appear powerful without outright challenging King Nechtan. Gildas and Geoffrey will come, too, to show that everything here is stable and there is no room for the Picts to move down. And I had to bring you as a show of trust and friendship. I tried to think of another way, but your absence would have been an insult.”
“It sounds complicated.”
He flopped onto the furs and put his forearm over his eyes. “It is. Why do people get bored with peace? Why is a border seen as a challenge rather than a barrier?”
“But even you fight battles that are not your own.”
He lowered his arm and peered at her. “What do you mean?”
She settled next to him, sitting with her skirts tucked under her. “You fought back a forest that did not threaten any of your land.”
He grinned sheepishly, caught. “Perhaps even I can get bored with peace sometimes.”
“That is not it.” She poked him in the side. “You see all men as your responsibility. You cannot deny anyone who needs your help.”
He closed his eyes. Though he had been fighting and working nonstop, he did not look exhausted. He looked…ready. As though at any moment he could leap up and storm a forest, fight back fairy knights, or negotiate peace with human ones.
She did not feel the same. She was tired and sore after a long day’s riding, not to mention heartsick and confused over Mordred’s revelations about Merlin. Her hands still tingled, but now they ached, as well. She needed to rest. Especially if she had to draw on strength reserves for magic tomorrow. She shook out her hands, for all the good it did in dispelling the remaining pins and needles. “We need a better way to communicate. I was in the middle of something in Camelot.”
Arthur sat up, alarmed. “What?”
“There is a woman. Rhoslyn. I have seen her before, talking to the patchwork knight. She was caught practicing magic and banished.”
Arthur nodded; he looked sad but not surprised. “It is against the law.”
“I followed her. When your soldiers left her on the southern border, men were waiting to kill her.”
At this he did look surprised, and angry. “My men?”
“No. I do not think so. But I am fairly certain your soldiers knew about it and left Rhoslyn to die.”
Arthur rubbed his face. “I do not want those who are banished to be killed, or even harmed. They cannot be in Camelot, but that does not mean they cannot live freely elsewhere. Thank you for telling me. I will see to it that things change.”
“That is not the point of my story. She was not killed. The patchwork knight saved her.”
“He did? You saw him fight?”
“It was barely a fight.”
Arthur’s eyes shone brightly. “I wish I had seen it!”
“Arthur! Please focus.” Guinevere shook her head at his sheepish expression. “The knight obviously knew where she would be left, as well. After he fought off the attackers, they both went deeper into the forest. Together.”
Arthur frowned. “I do not understand. Where is the problem?”
“They are your enemies! Camelot’s enemies. I found remnants of her magic in Camelot, and sensed far more of it in the forest on your border. They are plotting something. And I think we cannot wait to find out what it is.”
Arthur shifted, humming low in his throat. “She was banished. If she is not within my borders, I have no claim. Who am I to tell her she cannot do as she will outside my lands?”
“This is a threat.”
“Then when it comes within Camelot’s boundaries, we will face it.”
“Why wait, when we know where she is? When we know she works with the patchwork knight?”
Finally, the exhaustion showed in Arthur’s face. His smile lines disappeared, and his eyelids drew lower. “Because I refuse to be a warlord king. Not like my father. I will leave my borders to defend innocents, but never to attack.”
Guinevere hung her head. She could not argue with him on this. But she did not agree with allowing his enemies the time they needed to build an attack. Arthur was generous and noble.