“Go ahead,” Lancelot says. “Only half an hour, though. And don’t tell your parents that I let you take a break from your Maven’s party. Quiz: What’s your Maven’s name?”
“Uh…” Arthur puts his hand to his chin in contemplation. “He has a nerdy name. His name is… Melvin.”
“Merlin. Merlin Ambrosius.”
“Ah, right.”
Lancelot sighs. “Remember, your parents will ask you about the ceremony. You’ve got to at least know your Maven’s name. Now you can play your game.”
Arthur makes a sound of triumph and sits at the foot of the statue of Hector de Maris to play his game. He turns his back to us. The sound of his video game chimes with bleeps and boops. Behind us is the faint hum of chatter and classical music.
“This is my job sometimes,” Lancelot comments to me. “Plain old babysitting.”
“I heard that,” Arthur says.
“But it’s an important job,” Lancelot continues, patting the gun by his side.
I nervously eye his gun. The Sword Scroll feels heavy in my pocket as I become conscious of it.
“You’re a strange lady,” Lancelot says while giving me a sidelong stare. “One moment you’re moping in bed hiding from the world, the next moment you show up in a stunning dress and nab the spotlight… and make out with the guy you hate.”
Arthur makes a sound of disgust and fishes out his earphones from his pocket. He plugs it into his game.
“I didn’t ‘make out’ with Merlin,” I whisper.
“Okay, you just sort of fell into his arms and…”
A part of me still suspects he saw me take the Scroll. Perhaps he invited me into King’s Hall to interrogate me. My mouth becomes dry at the thought.
“Okay, I kissed him,” I say. “Who cares? Certainly not the High Knight. He’s too damn important to care about something so stupid.”
“I don’t like your tone,” he says. “You must think I’m real dumb.”
I bite my lower lip, turning from him as perspiration begins to prickle across my skin. Being arrested for theft would be humiliating beyond words. Everyone’d think I totally lost it and that I’m a jealous, pitiful freak. I’d never be able to show my face to anyone again.
“I’m not like that,” Lancelot continues. “I know I seem like one of those guys who are obsessed with you. But I’m actually not.”
I blink. Who’s obsessed with me? And maybe he’s actually clueless? I carefully eye Arthur, who’s playing his game. It doesn’t seem like I can accomplish anything in this setting. Lancelot will keep grilling me about my inappropriate dress and behavior if I stay here.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to your ‘babysitting.’ Clearly you’re busy.”
As I take a step, Lancelot grabs my arm. “Hey, wait. Sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that, that I’m not interested in you. Don’t get so hurt.”
“I don’t care if you’re not interested in me.”
“You just seem so invincible, like you’re armored in diamonds. I let my mouth run sometimes. I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “There’s no reason for me to stay here.”
“Stay,” he says.
My sweaty hand instinctively reaches for the Scroll as I eye the exit, wanting to escape. “Why?” I ask.
“I don’t know. It gets so dull around here, you know? I stand around a lot, I do paperwork. I work with a lot of guys. I have to admit, the highlight of my day is just seeing you.”
I blush. A mixture of anger and flattery and embarrassment flood through me. I eye Arthur warily again. He’s still ignoring us.
I walk past Lancelot, my heart beating quickly. “I should go.”
Lancelot reaches over to me, holding on to my elbow. My heart jolts and I instinctively put my hand on his arm to push it away, my nails red against his gray uniform. I smell the hoppy scent of ale on his breath.
“You’re drunk,” I say. “We should all head back to the party.”
“The Grail Room brings back bad memories for me,” Lancelot says. “Morgan, don’t you ever feel lonely?”
What memories? And why the Grail Room?
“Sir Lancelot,” I warn. “Get ahold of yourself.”
Lancelot winces, letting go of my arm. He rubs the bridge of his nose. “I had too much ale. More than I was supposed to.” He leans away from me and looks toward the hall. “I’ve got to use the restroom. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I watch him walk down the hall toward the restrooms until he disappears into the shadows. I exhale the breath I was holding.
I’ve got to strike while I’ve got a chance.
“Prince Arthur,” I call out.
Arthur is still by the statue, deeply immersed in his game. His back is facing me. He doesn’t seem to hear me through his headphones.
“Prince Arthur,” I say louder.
I walk toward him. There’s no way he’d listen to me at this rate.
“I wanted to warn you about something,” I say, pulling his earbuds out.
Arthur shoves my hands away and jams his earbuds back into his ears. “Hey,” he says with irritation. “What do you think you’re doing? Buzz off.”
As I stare at the back of his head with frustration, I marvel at how vulnerable he is. So unaware of the world. He’d be dead on the quest in a second. Easy prey for the Luminaries. It will take more than reason to keep him alive.
“Listen to me,” I demand, pulling his shoulders toward me. “You’re in danger! There are people who want to hurt you. The Luminaries. They are targeting to attack you during your quest.”
Arthur yelps, backing away from my hand, dropping his game. “Leave me alone, you psycho!”
Not taking my eyes off of him, I go down on my knees and place my hand over my heart. “I swear. I heard the Luminary mention it. Ganeida said it.”
I instinctively throw in Ganeida’s name to shield Merlin and to skirt the issue of being accused of slander.
Arthur glares at me before he gets up. “Leave me alone,” he mutters, walking past me with his game in hand.
I grab on to his arm. “Prince Arthur! You must listen—”
Arthur struggles to get out of my grasp. He looks toward where Lancelot went. “Lancelot!” he calls out.
Panic blinds me for a second. I shove Arthur, hard, causing him to fall onto his back with a thud. His game crashes onto the floor, the screen splintering from the impact. Before Arthur can get up, I am over him.
“Shut up!” I hiss, covering his mouth. “You want to watch Lancelot put a bullet through my head? Huh?”
I glance down at Arthur and draw my hand back abruptly. The sweat on my forehead instantly turns cold.
Arthur’s complexion is blue-tinged, his eyes rolled back.
Chapter 06
Horror renders me asunder like lightning ripping a tree open.
When Lancelot comes back, he will shoot me.
My heart hammers. Oh no… Please don’t be dead. I wasn’t trying to kill you! I check Arthur’s pulse frantically. He’s still alive but is passed out cold—a concussion, likely. Seeing him ivory pale makes my skin crawl. I want to turn myself in and blabber my apologies to the authorities. But the end of my life is guaranteed. To endanger the safety of a Pendragon is to be executed. Arthur will of course tell everyone about my “attack” and Lancelot will witness this scene once he comes back. Even if I run away now, the investigation will reveal that I attacked him. One way or the other I have rolled the ball over the hill, and it will roll until it meets its fate below.
I will die. There is no question about that.
The question though is when? Will I die in the next few minutes? Hours? Days? Only if I’m very lucky. Running away is the first thing that comes to mind but logic tries to stop me. I don’t want to spend my whole life a fugitive. If I’m going to be a criminal, I might as well accomplish something while I’m
at it. I could save Arthur somehow. I’ve got the Scroll. What’s the next step? Think fast. I look toward the exit and then back at Arthur.
What if I take Arthur with me? What if I could save Arthur from the dangers ahead? I’ve got nothing to lose.
I study Arthur with caution. He might wake up any second. He’ll start screaming and fighting. Though Arthur’s eyelids flutter, he is otherwise motionless. I rub my temples, terrified of my actions. He could have died. He could have brain damage.
He’s our future king.
My shoulders begin shaking. Panic and shock could seize me. If it does, I’ll be incapable of carrying out my plan: get Arthur out of here—out of the Luminaries’ web.
I take a deep breath. I will remain lucid—I have to. And I’ve got to act fast. Any minute, Lancelot will walk over here and shoot me.
I can still hear the party in the distance, which amplifies the horror of this situation. Looking around, I spot the exit door down the hall.
I know what I’m about to do is like dropping a rock onto a glass kingdom—shattering it to irreparable pieces, to cut the feet of all those who walk across it. It’s harsh and ugly and terrible—that’s why I’m the only one who can do it.
I must.
I pray to Astolat, the statue back home on my nightstand. Don’t let me. Please stop me.
Hurriedly, I take off my heels and hide them behind one of the sculpture displays. For a second I envision Lancelot finding the shoes later, clutching one as if it were a lost glass slipper before realizing what happened. However, whether I leave the shoes behind or not, the knights will eventually know that I kidnapped Arthur.
I grab Arthur’s arms to drag his heavy body across the floor toward the exit. It’s agonizingly slow to move him. Even with the adrenaline pumping through me, I struggle as I pull him.
Finally, I reach the exit, but the door has a lock on it.
Damn it. As I pant, I put my hand on the lock, hoping to melt the metal. I’ve never tried anything like this before. Lavalike energy flows through my hand and into the metal. Come on.
I flood my best energy into it—risking that I may lose strength to move Arthur. Rule of magic: there is no power without sacrifice. To use magic of great force, the magic user must be willing to discard some of his or her energy. The risk: growing fatigued, passing out, and sometimes, death.
The lock glows red, hopefully softening. I slam my shoulder into the door, hard.
It opens.
Outside, it’s dark and rain is pounding onto the pavement. I pant heavily as I look around, exhausted both physically and magically.
Security cameras are out here. In a split second, I fling my hand out, throwing hot energy into the asphalt. The puddles sputter and steam. The parking lot looks like a sudden fog has crept over it.
I dig into my pocket and find the car key, pushing the unlock button to open the doors. The light from Father’s car blinks several rows away. Grunting, I grab Arthur under the armpits and drag him across the pavement. The chill air stings my throat as I heave. Part of my energy is still going into steaming up the puddles. This improvised plan has only begun and I’m ready to keel over.
I consider lessening my magic over the puddles but immediately discard the idea. I’m committing a crime in a bright red dress. I’m practically a beacon. If I’m caught, I can imagine the headlines: Idiot Girl Tries to Kidnap the Prince in a Red Dress. I don’t recommend showy formal attire for crime. For that matter, committing a crime in general is not recommended. I am wrong. So wrong. But I won’t stop. Not now.
Finally getting to the car, I open the passenger door and hoist Arthur into the seat, buckling him in and then covering him up with my coat from the backseat. He moans a little but doesn’t wake up. Next, I go around the car and climb into the driver’s seat. I grip the steering wheel and take a deep breath. Go now. I’m dazed for a second, unable to turn the car on. Is it my conscience trying to stop me last minute? It’s a hell of a time for it to show up. The animal part of me screams: Go! Go! Go! I finally turn the car on before peeling out of the parking lot. Fear ripples through me as I drive out of the safety of my fog. At least nobody will be driving in Camelot right now since it’s considered rude to leave a ceremony early.
My first thought is to go somewhere isolated. Though that helps the immediate problem, it doesn’t solve the long-term crisis that once Arthur is “rescued” from my clutches, he’ll be sent to Avalon where the Luminaries will follow him.
I’ve got to take him to Avalon myself.
Now that I have the Scroll, I can find the place. Then Arthur will touch the sword and become powerful.
At the exit, I swipe my ID through the machine. The camera by the slot blinks light. It’s so dark that I doubt the film can even make out the coat slumped over the passenger seat. To the monitoring knights it will look like sore-loser Morgan le Fay decided to rudely leave early.
The gate opens.
I drive out of Camelot. Nobody knows that I’ve got a passed-out Prince Arthur in the passenger seat. Not yet, at least, but soon everyone will know.
The question is: How soon will they find out? I drive on with adrenaline coursing through me. My mind is blank with shock but my body drives the car properly, almost as if it’s a normal day. At the stoplight I fall into a stupor of thoughts. Any moment now either Merlin will notice the Scroll is missing and alert the knights, or Lancelot will notice Arthur is no longer in King’s Hall or the Grail Room. Lancelot will want to cover his own ass for not knowing where Arthur is, so he’ll casually look around for him. Once he doesn’t see him, he’ll panic and start asking the knights if they’ve seen him. When it’s clear that Arthur’s whereabouts are unknown, everyone will be on alert and Camelot will go into lockdown. I remember lockdowns during Arthur’s Round. The alarms would sound through the hallway and doors would lock up. The overreaction annoyed us because it disrupted our route to the next class. The knights would find Arthur within minutes, hiding under furniture. The alarm would shut down and we’d all roll our eyes about the knights’ paranoia. Except this time, it’s not an overreaction.
Prince Arthur has been kidnapped.
The car behind me honks. I snap out of my thoughts and drive on. I turn on the radio to keep my ears on the news. Soon the helicopters will be out. All of Logres’ traffic will be stopped. My guesstimate for all this to unravel is an hour at the most. I must get out of the city, fast.
Arthur groans in his seat, still passed out.
At the next light, I quickly get the Sword Scroll out of my pocket, pop open the metal lid, and pull out the paper with my teeth. Unrolling it, I skim through the letters.
Avalon lies in Fortunate Forest.
I toss the Scroll down onto the passenger floor and step on the gas, making my way to the roundabout toward the forest.
Since Camelot will find the Scroll missing, they’ll suspect we’re heading to Avalon. I swallow. My only hope is that Merlin delays his confession that he lost the Scroll.
Arthur moans again. He moves. I try not to let his movements distract me. He tears the coat off his face and gasps for air, screaming. It makes my stomach flip to hear him yell like a wild animal but I must remain calm.
“Quiet,” I tell him sharply.
Arthur wails some more as he frantically whirls around. “Where am I?” He looks at me with wide eyes as he backs into the window.
“I’ll explain later,” I say. “Just sit back. I promise no harm will come to you.”
“No harm?” Arthur blabbers. He shakes and feels the back of his head with his hands. “What did you do to my head?” He screams the horrible sound again.
My hands tremble in panic as I steer. Judging by his scream, he’s not exaggerating his pain.
“There are some painkillers in the glove compartment,” I say. “Take six of them.”
“I’m not taking anything! Take me back!”
“Not until we reach Avalon.”
/> “To Avalon? Are you crazy? If you want money—”
“I don’t want money.”
“Take me home now,” Arthur shouts nervously. “Or I’ll jump out of the car.”
“Be my guest.”
We are on the highway. I take the exit to Fortunate Forest and drive through. Best I get as close to the heart of the forest as possible.
Arthur looks at the dark trees soaring past our windows. Horror floods his face before he breaks into sobs, each of his heavy gasps making my mood sink further. He opens the glove compartment as he cries and takes the bottle of painkillers. With shaking hands, he swallows a few pills. I pull the bottle away when he’s done in fear of him taking too many.
The radio is talking about the news of the Maven Ceremony. How Merlin looks splendid. What designer blazer he’s wearing.
Then the voices cut out for a minute.
“Breaking news!” the newscaster says.
So it begins. If they had been a little quicker, they could have easily kept me trapped in Logres.
“Prince Arthur has vanished during the Maven Ceremony,” the newscaster says. “All traffic is stopped and highways are shutting down—”
Despite their failure to close down the city sooner, I’m impressed with Camelot for choosing to announce the news so quickly. Usually they wait until the Camelot-wide search is over before admitting to the public of an emergency. Their panic must be because either Merlin or Lancelot has come forth with information that some unusual things have occurred tonight.
Right about now, all the stoplights in Logres are red, entrapping everyone in their motionless cars. The on-ramps and roundabouts are closing. Flights and ferries are being canceled. Police and knights will flood the streets. Countless helicopters will take over the sky, droning angrily.
I pull over at the next scenic stop, a lookout over the lake by the forest. I park precariously close to the unguarded cliff as Arthur continues to sob.
“We’re in the middle of the forest,” I say. “The highway is shut down. Don’t run off unless you want to be eaten by wolves.”
Arthur chokes on his sobs. We have no time to waste. I pull on a pair of sneakers from the backseat. I tear the Pendragon Badge off Arthur’s blazer, causing him to flinch. Next I pull his bow tie off. I yank my hidden backpack out of the giant purse and chuck the two items in. I don’t want Arthur leaving these behind so that the knights can trail us. I put the backpack on and put the car in neutral, leaving the windows open a crack so the car will sink into the water faster. I then climb out of the driver’s seat. Outside of the warm metal womb of the car, the air is chilling and damp. I yank Arthur out of the passenger seat. He looks around, hugging himself.
Sword Page 5
