Blood of the Fey (Morgana Trilogy)

by Alessa Ellefson

  I shake my head. “It’s all right. I understand.”

  Harry takes my pulse, checking it against his golden pocket watch.

  “Still a little weak,” he says, pushing me back down on my pillows. “Nothing a little rest and a good broth can’t cure, though.”

  “How long have I been unconscious?” I ask. Marianne’s recovery tells me I must have been out for more than a few days, at least.

  “Over two weeks,” Harry says.

  I nearly jump out of my bed. “What?”

  “Which is rather good, considering you should’ve been dead by now,” the old man adds, looking at my pupils, then taking my temperature. “Your immune system’s quite incredible, young girl, but let’s not tax it more than it needs to be. You need to rest.”

  The old nurse turns to Arthur. “Which means she’s not allowed to attend any meeting until Dr. Cockleburr’s given her prior approval. Is that clear?”

  With a stiff nod, Arthur exits, followed by Lance. Marianne gives me a quick hug that awakens the pain in my side.

  “Get well ASAP,” she says. “Samhain’s almost here, and it would suck if you couldn’t attend the feast!”

  I’m left for the next few days to ponder my life at ease—though ease is not exactly what I feel. Every second of that dreadful moment on the island has been painfully carved into my memory, and I get to relive it with every waking moment. Then, three times a day, every day, Dr. Cockleburr comes to change my dressings, checking my wounds.

  She’s patient with me, and has given me my own room. Though I don’t complain, I don’t find that very comforting; there are only a few reasons I can think of why she wants to segregate me. Either I’m contagious, or I’ve become so disfigured she’s afraid I’m going to scare her other patients to death. And when I feel the ridged scars marking my face, I’m afraid to see myself too.

  At least she’s allowed me to keep the Voynich manuscript by my bed so I can devour it whenever I want.

  There are so many strange plants described in it, so many new species I haven’t even heard of, that it gets my mind distracted from more pressing issues, like my recovery. Or the fact that we haven’t caught the real killer yet.

  “Are these only plants that exist down here?” I ask Dr. Cockleburr as she checks my vitals.

  I shift around so she can place her stethoscope’s cold bell on my back. I breathe in, hold, breathe out.

  “Most of them, yes,” she says before I repeat the exercise. “It used to be they could also be found above, but they’ve now gone extinct.”

  “Do a lot of extinct species live down here then?”

  “I believe so,” Dr. Cockleburr says, taking another blood sample from me. “But the land down here is much vaster than Lake Winnebago above, and much of it unexplored. At least by humans.”

  “So could there be dodoes still roaming about somewhere?”

  The doctor’s cheeks dimple for a very brief second. “It’s possible.”

  “What about dinosaurs? Do you think they could be here too?”

  “I don’t know, Morgan,” she says, losing her patience. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep now, hmm?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, chastised.

  But sleep eludes me. That’s all I seem to be doing these days—sleeping, eating, and catching up on even more homework that Bri and Keva bring me, the only two people who still visit me, not that anyone else has tried, not even Arthur.

  Keva doesn’t seem too pleased as she hands me Lady Ysolt’s stack of papers.

  “Can you please stop being so mopey and get the hell out of here so I don’t have to carry your stuff all over school anymore?”

  I grab the assignments from her along with Bri’s carefully copied notes. Flipping through the notebooks, I can tell that I won’t get bored stuck in the hospital bed here. There must be at least a hundred or so pages waiting to be memorized.

  “Any clues on what’s going to be on the test?” I ask.

  Keva shrugs. “Beats me.”

  “You think you’ll be well enough by then?” Bri asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say. Our exams start in a couple of days, but Dr. Cockleburr’s yet to give me her approval to get out of this bed. “I certainly hope so.”

  Keva lets out an undignified snort. “Please, just admit you’re milking this as much as possible.”

  “Keva!” Bri exclaims, horrified. “How can you say that when she nearly died?”

  “If she’d listened to me instead of going off on her own, she wouldn’t be here now. Besides, look at her! There’s not even a bruise left on her face—which is a good thing, mind. But it just proves that all she got were light scratches, nothing serious.”

  “They wouldn’t be keeping her here if they thought she didn’t need to stay.”

  I raise my hands to stop the argument. “Wait, wait, wait,” I say, not sure I heard right. “My scars are gone? But that’s no possible, I—could you hand me a mirror?”

  With some reluctance, Keva hands me her pocket mirror. I can see her watching me curiously over it as I examine my pristine reflection, any mark of my fight gone.

  “You don’t mean to say,” she starts, “you haven’t looked at yourself since the day of the accident?”

  “No,” I say, tossing the mirror back to her. “I…was afraid of what I’d see.” I pull the bandages still wrapped around my arms. The skin under them is smooth and flawless as a baby’s butt.

  “Exactly my point,” Keva says.

  “I don’t…” I start, then shake my head. I know I’ve always been a fast healer, but this is pretty awesome.

  I push my covers off and climb out of the high bed.

  “What are you doing?” Bri asks, her small hands trying to keep me back. “You’re not supposed to leave until they say so.”

  “You were pretending all along, weren’t you?” Keva says.

  I’m so giddy I could laugh my head off. “I thought for sure I was disfigured, and that’s why they were keeping me here.”

  “Despite what it looks like, Morgan is vain after all,” Keva says. “Brilliant. Now let’s get out of here. I think I’ve seen enough of the hospital wing to last me a lifetime.”

  Chuckling, we leave the ward and head toward the exit.

  “Morgan!”

  Dr. Cockleburr’s standing before the door, hands on her hips, looking dreadfully displeased.

  “Who gave you leave to—”

  “I feel perfectly fine,” I say. “Good as new, in fact.”

  “We still have to do some tests,” the doctor says, frowning. “We don’t know if—”

  “Like I said, I feel fine. Besides, I’ve been cooped up here long enough. I’ll go crazy if I stay here a second longer.” I sidestep her and wave her good-bye. “I promise I’ll come back if I feel queasy at all!”

  Rushing outside before she can protest further, I smash into someone else coming in, so hard I feel like I’ve just turned into a gong.

  “I’m so very sorry,” I say, rubbing my forehead.

  “Am all right, no harm done.”

  “Bloody hell, Morgan, you’ve knocked Sir Percy down!” Keva exclaims, helping the knight up.

  “Like I said, no harm, no foul.” But Percy can’t shake the fawning Keva away. “Glad to see you’re doin’ better, though,” he says to me, then raises his eyebrows so high they get lost in his brown curls. “You need a hand gettin’ back into your uniform?”

  The blood drains from my face as I stare down at myself. I’m still wearing the hospital gown that I’ve been wearing all week long. Shame burns right through me; I’ve just walked in front of countless people with my bare ass peeking out!

  “I’m perfectly all right,” I say, bringing my gown tight around me.

  I move closer to the wall in an attempt to keep my buttocks away from prying eyes. Percy laughs.

  “I was just on my way out, actually,” I say, looking to Bri and Keva for help, but they’re both too awed by the knight
to attempt to save my honor.

  “Good thing I caught you then,” Percy says, handing me a note.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  “Guess I’ll be seein’ ya soon,” he says.

  With a little bow, he touches his fingertips to his forelock, then leaves, making sure to give Keva a wide berth.

  “What does it say?” Bri asks.

  Anxious, I turn the letter around and open it as Percy’s whistling dies away in the distance. I nearly rip the piece of paper in half as I pull it out, then read:

  Ms. Morgan Pendragon’s presence has been requested for a hearing at the next KORT meeting, to be held by week’s end, at the ninth hour.

  Staring at the fancy lettering, I hear both Bri and Keva groan.

  “What?” I ask. “All they want is an account.”

  “You don’t understand,” Bri says. “A formal hearing with KORT is never a good thing.”

  “She’s right,” Keva says, backing away. “Means trouble for you, and I mean to stay well clear of it. See you around!”

  My summons to a hearing propagates through the school like wildfire. But this time, exam week and the upcoming Samhain festival are enough to dampen my own notoriety. I, on the other hand, plunge myself wholeheartedly into my studies. The fact that I’ve been ill turns out to be a great excuse to avoid both training sessions and my regular duties at the infirmary, and I use the extra time to hole myself up in the library.

  Finally, the last day of exams arrives. Just in time, for I can feel my mind grinding to a halt as I stare at Sir Boris’s questions. When the bell tolls, I let my pen drop on the table and stretch in my chair.

  “What did you put down for the Fuath?” Jack asks as Nadia walks around to collect the tests.

  “That they’re linked to nymphs,” I reply. “Aren’t they?”

  Bri clicks her tongue. “Only in so much as they both live in water,” she says. “Fuath are Fomori, and by their very nature aren’t the kind you want to come across.”

  Jack slaps his hand on his forehead. “They’re the hairy ones, aren’t they?” He grunts. “I knew it! I put down that they were scaly with pointy teeth that shot out when they sneezed.”

  Bri rolls her eyes at him as Keva comes over. “What are you wearing for tonight?” she asks, her eyes bright with excitement.

  “Aren’t we supposed to wear our formals?” Bri asks.

  “Don’t be such a nincompoop. Do you think people actually follow that rule?”

  “I’m still wearing mine,” Jack says. “We’re going to be leaving the campus grounds, and our uniforms are safer than traditional clothing.”

  Keva snorts. “You think any Fey’s going to attack when there’s so many of us around? Please.”

  “What are you going to do?” Bri asks me.

  I fling my backpack over my shoulder and head out. “Maybe I won’t get to participate,” I say

  “Oh, right,” Keva and Bri say simultaneously. “The summons.”

  “Do you need us to go with you?” Bri asks.

  “Hey, don’t include me in that,” Keva says, “I’ve got higher priorities.”

  Bri throws her a warning look.

  “No worries,” I say. “I’m a big girl. I can get there myself.”

  “Very well said,” Keva says, pulling on Bri’s arm to get her going before she can word any objection. “We’ll see you later.”

  “Right, later,” I say.

  “Don’t take too long,” Jack says, “or all the good food’ll be gone.”

  With a sinking heart, I walk over to KORT’s headquarters. I stare for a minute at the hunting scene carved into the black doors, sympathizing with the dragon surrounded by vicious hounds.

  An appropriate depiction of my own life. I sigh. Arthur must really hate me.

  I knock. The indistinct murmurs coming from behind the closed doors cease, then Gareth lets me in. He winks at me as I step inside.

  The room is the most beautiful one I’ve seen in the whole school—tall arched windows let in light from the two angled walls, while colorful tapestries depicting knights on their various quests hang opposite them.

  Along the wall closest to me are suspended twelve banners, each displaying different coats of arms. I immediately recognize the one at the forefront—two dragons standing back-to-back, the Pendragon sigil.

  Taking up most of the room is a wide, ringlike table of dark wood, around which are enough straight-backed chairs to seat thirteen people, though only seven knights are now present.

  Despite having met most of them, only the cousins smile at me, and Percy gives me a small nod. The others stare at me like I’m some cockroach that needs to be stomped on.

  “Have a seat,” Arthur says.

  I go for the chair nearest me. The seat looks more like a throne, made out of a single piece of dark wood. I grab the back of the chair to pull it out, admiring the carving of an angel descending along the back, sword first, onto a horde of snarling demons depicted about the feet.

  “Not there!”

  I freeze at the shouted order and notice the shocked looks of the people around me.

  “You told me to sit,” I say, exasperated.

  “Yes, but not there.”

  I raise my chin. Guess I’m not worthy of being at his hoitytoity table.

  “I prefer to stand then,” I say, staring straight ahead of me, above the heads of the seated knights. Maybe I should look bored, to show them I don’t care.

  “Miss Pendragon,” Arthur says, “you are here now on trial for reckless behavior that not only nearly cost you your life, but those of others as well.”

  My jaw unhinges from its socket. “On trial, me?”

  “As well as for theft,” Arthur finishes without looking at me. “In the second case, we found a knife missing from our armory, which was presently found with you in the surface world.”

  “I object!” I say. “First of all, I did not steal that knife. I borrowed it. Second of all, who is to blame my reckless behavior, as you call it, but you people?

  “You allow base accusations to be thrown at me that are false and unsubstantiated, turning my life into a living hell. Yet you take your sweet time with your so-called investigation of that squire’s death and K’s disappearance. How can you blame me for wanting to take things into my own hands and solve the case myself?”

  “By risking other people’s lives?”

  “I got there after those two knights had already been attacked. You can’t blame me for that.”

  Every knight there is poised at the edge of his seat, waiting with bated breath for the result of this exchange. Arthur pinches his lips together in displeasure.

  “How did you find out about the banshee?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Heard some people mention strange noises at night coming from around the island, and when I…overheard…people talk about a banshee roaming about…I put two and two together. It wasn’t very difficult.”

  “Why didn’t you report it to us?” Percy asks.

  I let out a short, derisive laugh. “I was already being accused of murdering a person and kidnapping another. Who would have believed me?”

  A silence settles over the assembly that seems to stretch on for hours. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, scared despite my bravado. Nobody’s ever told me anything about these KORT meetings, least of all about trials. And here I am, facing both at once, and with no idea what type of punishment I’m facing. I pray it doesn’t entail being quartered or beheaded.

  “How did you manage to get to the surface?” a knight asks, a spindly boy with long black hair slicked back into a ponytail.

  I cross my hands behind my back. “I, uh, I flew.”

  “You flew?”

  I ignore the shocked looks crossing between the knights.

  “You mean to say someone flew you there?” the boy asks.

  “No. I mean I flew there.”

  “But that’s not possible,” another boy with spiky red hair
says. “The only way to do that is with EM, and everybody knows you can’t do it.”

  “Ah, but it appears that she can after all,” Percy says with a tight smile. “And well, too, from the sound of it. A rare feat for a page, I may add.”

  Lance whispers into Arthur’s ear.

  “A moment, please,” Arthur says, getting up, then heading for the back wall, where beautiful drapes of damask hang down in shimmery gold and burgundy, the colors of our school.

  Arthur pulls one of the curtains aside to uncover a small passage into which he disappears. We all remain motionless, like the standing armors displayed outside, while we wait for him to come back.

  When my legs are about to cramp up, the drapes open up again to let Arthur through. His face is pale, but otherwise betrays no emotion as he resumes his seat.

  “The Board has spoken,” he says, avoiding all eye contact with me. “Miss Pendragon is now forbidden from going anywhere without reporting to one of us directly. She is also not allowed to go anywhere beyond Lake High without supervision, which means the only way in and out for her is with the barges, like every other freshman here.

  “In the matter of the theft, the Board agrees to drop all charges, as the knife was recovered intact. The case is now closed.”

  The moment the verdict is given, there’s a flurry of activity as every knight rushes to join the feast outside. Each one passes by me without so much as a glance in my direction, not even Percy and the cousins, until only Arthur and I remain in the room.

  He stops before me, opens his mouth to say something, but I throw him the dirtiest look I can muster, and he shuts it again.

  I wish he knew how much I hate him right now, how much I wish I could shove his stupid rules down his throat and have him choke on them.

  There’s a slight clearing of the throat, and we both turn to find Jennifer. She gives Arthur a kind smile and reaches for his hand. I can tell she’s enjoying this as much as a dog loves to roll in poo.

  “Everyone’s waiting,” she says. “They can’t start the festivities without you.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Arthur says.