Morgana Trilogy Complete Series

by Alessa Ellefson

  “All right,” Arthur says, taking notes. He then looks at the back of the room, where the witnesses are huddling together. “You.” He points to Jennifer’s friend. “Stand up, and give us your name.”

  “Sophie Williams, sir,” the girl says.

  “Status?”

  “I’m Jennifer’s squire, sir.”

  Gareth stands back up, holding up an old, but well-cared-for Bible.

  “Place your hand on the Bible and swear to speak the truth and nothing but the truth,” he says, “and may God be your witness.”

  Sophie places her trembling hand on the Bible and whispers, “I swear.”

  Gareth sits back down, causing Daniel to scramble to get his feet away as fast as possible.

  “So what did you see happen, Miss Williams?” Arthur asks, pen at the ready.

  “I went looking for Jennifer, sir,” Sophie says. “She’d gone to the infirmary after being punched in the face by her.”

  “Morgan had punched Jennifer?” Arthur asks, sounding mildly surprised. He clears his throat. “Please explain.”

  “Well, we were walking together to get to the fairgrounds,” Sophie says, “having fun, when we came across that murderess. She’d slipped, and Jennifer went to help her. But instead of getting thanked, she got punched in the face!”

  I let out an involuntary cry of protest—how dare she lie so blatantly, and after swearing to God on top of it! I’m halfway up when a small sign from Percy makes me sit back down.

  “But when Jennifer didn’t come back, I decided to go check on her. That’s when I saw her, sir.”

  “Saw who?” Arthur asks, his voice level.

  “That murderess.” Sophie spits out.

  “You can call her Morgan,” Percy says, in his usual bored drawling. “Or Miss Pendragon. Your choice.”

  “Please continue,” Arthur says.

  The girl glares at me. “She was running up to the boats, and I heard Jennifer scream. So I ran up there too, but when I got there, she was already down, and that murd…Morgan was trying to kill her.”

  “How exactly was Morgan killing Jennifer?” Arthur asks.

  I’m amazed at his composure while I’m being accused of yet another murder. I stare, wide-eyed, at his strong features as he looks back and forth between Sophie and his growing stack of notes.

  “She was slapping her, sir.”

  Arthur looks up at Sophie, his eyebrows cocked. “Slapping her?”

  “On the face!” she says to add weight to her account.

  “Very well,” Arthur says. “Did you hear anything at all, from her or around you?”

  Sophie looks stumped for a second. “Not really, sir.”

  “What do you mean, not really?”

  “Well…” Sophie bites her lower lip, throws an accusing look in my direction as if this question is my fault, then adds, “She, that is Morgan, was talking to herself.”

  “And what was she saying?”

  Sophie shrugs. “I’m not sure. I-I was too busy trying to save Jennifer. And then Sir Lance arrived.”

  ​“Thank you,” Arthur says, “you may sit down.”

  “But I know she was trying to kill her!” Sophie adds. “She’d threatened her. And look at her hands—they’re black, black with the poison she used on Jennifer and the others!”

  We all look down at my hands, and she’s right; my palms are blackened, though I know it’s not because of Jennifer. Hiding my hands deep in my pockets, I momentarily squeeze my eyes shut as visions of Owen’s terrified face come back to me.

  “Yes, thank you,” Arthur says while Gareth forces Sophie back down on the bench with one large hand on her shoulder. “Next.”

  Daniel gets up then. He gives me a tiny smile of derision, then states his name. “Daniel von Blumenthal, sir.”

  Staring down at my lap, I slouch back against the cold wall. I know exactly what he’s going to say, or the rest of their group—it’s Switzerland all over again. In their eyes, I’m a psychotic killer who itched to give Jennifer her due. Well, they might not be entirely wrong on that point, but I never actually wanted her dead. Maybe permanently disfigured or incapacitated…

  I choke back a gasp. Maybe it is my fault she’s now dying in a bed somewhere in the infirmary, I realize. Have I not wished, multiple times, for her to pay for all she’s put me through? Though I’m not the one who’s hurt her, except for the black eye, maybe my wishing it so is what caused it.

  “Morgan?”

  I jerk my head up and blink at the faces staring at me expectantly. I realize that everyone’s already spoken, Jack included, and that it’s now my turn to give an account.

  “Yes?” I ask, standing up so quickly it makes me dizzy.

  Gareth comes to stand beside me, offering me the Bible.

  “Place your hand on the Bible and swear to speak the truth and nothing but the truth,” he says, “and may God be your witness.”

  I place my hand on the crackled cover. “I swear,” I say.

  “Please state your name and status,” Arthur says.

  I cast him a mocking look—as if nobody in here knows me. “Morgan Pendragon. Page.”

  “Please state the events leading to the recovery of Jennifer’s unconscious body by Sir Lance.”

  “First of all,” I say, “I would like to make some clarifications.”

  Arthur’s pen stops over his papers. “Very well,” he says with a sigh.

  “When I saw Jennifer this morning, I was looking for my friend’s brother. Jack can attest to that.”

  Jack flinches at the mention of his name, but I ignore him.

  “However I didn’t fall down on my own, as was stated,” I continue. “I was attacked.”

  “Attacked?” Arthur asks the top of his nose scrunching in concern.

  “Yes. By them,” I say, making a sweeping gesture toward the group sitting on the other side of the long bench.

  “How so?”

  “It was an elemental attack,” I say. “A sylph.”

  “You’re quite sure about that?”

  I nod.

  “And you saw them do it?”

  I hesitate. “Not exactly,” I admit. “But it wasn’t the first time I’ve been subjected to bullying from Daniel, so I assumed—”

  “Let it be noted that the accusation of an attack is an assumption by the accused,” Arthur says, making further notes.

  I clench my fists, but keep on with my story—now’s not the time to go berserk. “While falling down, I split my lip open, and under the pretense of helping me, Jennifer threatened me.”

  This time, Arthur can’t help but look at me.

  Sophie springs up from her seat. “Lies!” she yells. “We didn’t hear her say anything!”

  Gareth, who’s back in his original place, has to force her to sit down again.

  “What did she threaten you with?” Arthur asks me.

  I glance quickly in Lance’s direction, but his face remains blank. “I-I’d seen her do something the night before, and she didn’t want me to tell anyone about it.”

  “What was it?” Arthur asks.

  Conflicted, I stare at my brother. I feel like I should tell him the truth, tell him that his darling fiancée is cheating on him with one of his best friends. But then I imagine how much this will hurt him, and I just can’t bring myself to do it, especially not in front of everyone else.

  “I can’t tell you,” I finally say.

  “That’s because she’s lying!” Sophie yells again before Gareth shuts her up.

  “If it’s anything illegal,” Arthur says, his voice cold, “then you must bring this up.”

  “It wasn’t anything…illegal,” I say. “But it wasn’t something she wanted others to know either.”

  For a while, the only thing that can be heard is the sound of the wind sighing outside the windows, and the distant screams of children playing. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, hoping Arthur won’t force me to reveal the secret.


  “Continue,” he says, resuming his writing.

  “I went to the infirmary myself,” I say. “For my lip and my hand.”

  “Yes, Dr. Cockleburr did mention it,” Arthur says. “So when did you see Jennifer next?”

  “I’m not exactly sure how long it was,” I say, finding it more and more difficult to speak. “But I heard her scream, and when I went to look, I saw someone was chasing her up by the boats. I couldn’t tell who, I was too far, but I saw her try to defend herself against it with a knife. So I ran over to help.”

  “How long did it take you to get there?”

  “I don’t know. A couple of minutes? When I got to the boats, she was already on the ground, and this…shadow thingy was over her. When it heard me, it ran away.”

  “Did you get to see who it was?” Arthur asks.

  I shake my head. “Like I said, it was a black shape, somewhat blurred…I couldn’t make out anything from it except that it was bigger than me.”

  “It?” Arthur asks, sitting straighter in his seat. “You don’t think it was human?”

  I hesitate. “No.”

  The room erupts in cries of protest.

  “This is stupid,” Daniel says, louder than everyone else. “It’s obvious she’s lying. Fey can’t penetrate through the school’s barriers!”

  Arthur raises his hands, and the assembly quietens. “Let the accused finish her story,” he says. “Why didn’t you think it was human?”

  “Well, I tried to tackle it,” I say, “and it moved really fast out of my way. Too fast to be human. Even then, I should have touched it, but my fingers didn’t feel anything, just…cold.”

  More angry murmurs break out around the room.

  “I grabbed Jennifer to shield her,” I say, “but when I looked up, it was gone. I didn’t even hear it leave. And Jennifer…I tried to wake her up, but when she didn’t, I panicked. And that’s when that girl, Sophie, pushed me away.”

  ​“Now let me ask you this,” Percy asks me. “Where exactly were you when you saw Jennifer and this ’ere, uh, black shadow critter?”

  I feel the blood drain from my face. “Here,” I say.

  “’ere as in school?” Percy says. “Or…?”

  “In this room,” I whisper.

  The scratching from Arthur’s pen stops. “Why were you in the KORT room?” he asks me.

  “I’d followed my friend’s brother in,” I say, choking on the words. “He’d escaped from the asylum, and when I saw him after leaving the infirmary, I followed him here.”

  “He came ’ere?” Percy asks.

  I nod. “I saw Jennifer through that window.”

  Percy gets up to stand where I’m pointing. “You do have a better view of the dockin’ area from ’ere,” he says.

  “So what happened to the boy,” Arthur asks, “your friend’s brother?”

  I burst into tears. “He-He sat d-down where h-he shouldn’t h-have,” I hiccup, “and I couldn’t s-save him!”

  “What do you…The Siege Perilous?”

  “But that’s not possible,” one of the knights says. “Everyone knows that—”

  “He’s gone!” I yell, hysteric. “It ate him! It took him. It—”

  Percy’s holding me in his arms, making soft, soothing noises. I cry into his shoulder, soaking his clothes, but he doesn’t let go of me.

  ◆◆◆

  “You should’ve come straight to me,” Arthur says, pacing the KORT room, empty now but for him, Percy, the two cousins, and myself.

  I’m sitting on the stone bench, eyes lowered to my clenched hands.

  “Then Jennifer would be dead,” I say, trying to ignore my pounding headache and my left shoulder throbbing in tempo with it.

  “So you think you saved her?” Gauvain asks me.

  I shrug. “Whatever that…thing was doing to Jennifer, I interrupted it, and she’s still alive, isn’t she?”

  “We don’t know how quickly the poison works,” Arthur says.

  “Well, it ain’t that slow,” Percy says. “If it only took Morgan a couple a minutes to get up there, then that critter didna have much time with ’er. But you ’eard what Lance said, She did ’ave some of them veins turned black.”

  “What I find troubling,” Gareth says, “is that the créature was on school property at all.”

  “Yes,” Arthur says. “Either Morgan’s wrong about what she saw—”

  “I know what I saw,” I say.

  “But you’d just seen your friend die,” Gauvain says. “We can understand if it made your brain confused.”

  “I was not confused,” I say, much louder than I intended. “I know what I saw. I didn’t make it up. How could I?”

  “But if that’s the truth…” Gareth says. He stops, looking somber.

  “Then the barriers are compromised,” Arthur finishes. He passes his hand over his face, looking exhausted.

  Percy pushes himself away from the wall. “I’ll go check it out,” he says. “Will be back directly.”

  He raises his hand to his forehead and nods at me as he strides past.

  “Anything we may help for?” Gareth asks.

  Gauvain tosses a pebble in Gareth’s direction. “With, idiot. You should study your prepositions more.”

  “Just check on our supplies,” Arthur says before a fight breaks out between the two. “And post on the news board that there’s a curfew as of today. No one, except for knights on duty, is allowed outside the school. Anyone who’s found to break the rule will be expelled.”

  “Eye to eye, Capitaine,” Gareth says, snapping his heels together in salute.

  I hear the cousins’ bickering voices die down as they disappear down the hallway. I envy their ability to be so carefree, like nothing in the world can get them down, no matter how horrible or threatening.

  “You,” Arthur says with an accusing tone.

  I lift my eyes up to him shaking his finger at me.

  “You,” he repeats.

  “I did not leave the school grounds,” I say, defying him to find something to criticize about me.

  Nostrils flaring, he watches me carefully, then says, “No. You didn’t. And that’s an issue.”

  “What do you mean, an issue?” I ask. “I did everything you told me to. I even went out of my way to help that…your girlfriend. What more do you want from me?”

  “For you to stay out of trouble,” he says. “But apparently that is too much to ask of you. So from now on, you are consigned to our home.”

  The words take a while to sink in. Then I jump up to my feet. “What did you say?” I ask, shaking with rage.

  “You heard me,” Arthur says, turning away. “You can’t be trusted. And if that’s the only way I can keep you out of funny business, then so be it.”

  “By locking me up?” I laugh when he doesn’t answer. “Really? That’s the best you can do?”

  “Damn it, Morgan!” Arthur yells, spinning around so we’re standing nose to nose. “How else am I supposed to keep you safe? No matter what I say or do, you always manage to slip through the cracks and invite trouble. Do you think I want the next body we find to be yours?”

  I push him away. “Why do you keep on wanting to protect me all the time?” I ask, shoving him again. “I never asked for any of this! I never asked to be in this godforsaken place! I never asked to become a knight!”

  I’m crying freely now, but I can’t stop myself. I’m tired, tired of seeing people die in front of me, tired of not knowing anything about everything.

  “That’s twice now that you’re trying me for killing someone,” I say, punching Arthur in the chest over and over again until my knuckles are scraped raw. “Why didn’t you guys just leave me to rot in a cell in Switzerland when you had a chance? Things would have been a lot easier, and you wouldn’t have had to deal with me!”

  Arthur grabs both my fists and holds them down behind me, locking me in place so I can’t fight anymore. Gasping, I glare at him instead.

 
“You will do as I say,” he says, his hazel eyes so dark they almost look black. “And that’s final.”

  Chapter 29

  Whistling a funeral march, Percy follows me down the corridors as I look for Bri—the last thing Arthur’s allowing me to do before I head back to the surface and get locked up for who knows how long. The high-pitched version of Chopin’s classic grates on my nerves as I try to find the best way to tell her that her brother’s dead.

  “Hey, ain’t that the girl you’re lookin’ for?” Percy asks, pointing with his chin.

  Looking down from a fifth-floor window, I see the small figure of a girl running toward the meadow, her short dark hair in disarray. My heart sinks at the sight—that’s definitely Bri, and she’s still looking for Owen.

  I whirl around and rush back downstairs under the confused looks of students coming back from their day of fun.

  “Bri!” I call out when Percy and I pass the wharf on our way west. “Bri, wait up!”

  “There!” Percy says.

  We run past the last boat and into the fields surrounding the school. We run until we reach the western warding stone, out of breath.

  “Where is she?” I ask Percy, panting.

  The shorter boy looks about. “Not sure,” he says. “But that girl’s mighty quick!”

  A cackle makes the hairs at the back of my neck stand up. Hand on his sword, Percy crouches into a fighting position, but a haggard face pokes around the monolith, a beatific smile peeking from under his beard.

  “It’s Myrdwinn,” I say, stopping Percy from skewing the crazy old man.

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Percy replies. “You spotted anyone round ’ere?” he asks the old man.

  Myrdwinn laughs, pulling on his extended earlobe. “Just a lil’ mite running like she got her ass on fire,” he says.

  “Where?” I ask. “Which direction?”

  “Just down the next hill,” Myrdwinn says, shuffling over.

  With a loud sniff, he grabs my hands and turns them over to show their blackened palms. He sniggers.

  “Thought you were the chosen one, eh?” He laughs, drool dripping into his beard. “Well, you’re marked now. There’s no more escape!”

  I pull my hands away. What does that degenerate old man mean? That I’m going to die next, like Owen?