by Donna Hosie
“You said there was a counter spell.” I’m speaking to Merlin, although I can’t bear to look at him. “What do I need to do?”
“It is not as straight forward as muttering a few words, Lady Mila. First, I must confirm my suspicions as to why the ring attached itself to your sister and not you. Only then will we progress to the next stage.”
“Which is?”
“Patience is a virtue, Lady Mila,” he replies.
“Ignore him, Mila,” says my mother. “Every single person here – with the exception of your father – is an absolute idiot.”
“I wouldn’t speak like that in front of the queen, Lady Samantha,” says Merlin. “It is treasonous and punishable by death.”
But my mother rolls her eyes and mutters insults at Merlin. She isn’t scared of him. She isn’t scared of anyone. Perhaps that’s why the villagers are terrified of her – terrified of me.
Then a horrible thought crosses my mind.
“Hang on,” I ask my mother. “If dad is a king here, then shouldn’t you be the queen?”
Merlin laughs and the sound vibrates deep in my ears. It’s like a sonorous bell tolling in a church.
“Lady Mila, you are going to be a constant source of amusement to me during your time here. You are a true reflection of your father’s line, and also your mother’s. Inquisitive, yet disbelieving. Loving, yet angry. In answer to your question, Queen Guinevere is Regent, and she rules with fairness and grace during your father’s absences. She is as much loved as Arthur.”
“But they aren’t married or anything?” I ask, suddenly horrified that this double life my father has been living might include another woman.
“Your father is devoted to his real family, Mila,” replies my mother. She has moved to the door and is standing underneath the frame. “And anyway, Guinevere is married to one of us, apparently.”
“One of us?”
“A normal person. He fell back in time too.”
“Really? How many of us are here?” I ask.
My mother shrugs and crosses her arms. She’s bored of the conversation already. Her gaze traverses the corridor outside to Lilly and then back again.
“Mila, stay with Lilly. I’m going to wait outside for your father. Do not let anyone touch her. You’re a black belt – use it if you have to.”
With a swish of her long dark hair, my mother disappears down the corridor. I listen until the tapping of her heels on the stone floor disappears. Seconds later, there is cacophony of trumpets that makes me jump.
“Conveniently well-timed,” says Merlin, and he chuckles. I just shudder and tense up. My mother told me to protect Lilly and I will. I took second place in the regional finals for Taekwondo sparring, and the only reason I lost the final was because my black belt slipped off as I was knife-striking my opponent into the floor. I’m so stressed out that I’ll take on anyone right now.
A tall, thin man with a long nose and chiselled cheekbones steps into the small room.
“Her grace, the Regent Queen Guinevere. Protector of the realm of Logres and provider of...”
“Bonmart, how many times do I have to tell you to cease with the formalities of the title when we are in the castle,” interrupts a flustered woman with long blonde hair. She runs into the room, tucking her wavy hair behind her ears. Then she sees me and squeals.
The next thing I know I am being pressed against her in a tight hug. Her arms are strong and she doesn’t let go as I struggle to breathe.
“My eyes are playing tricks on me, Merlin,” she cries. “Tell me I am in a dream and this is a falsehood being played upon my senses.”
“Queen Guinevere,” says Merlin formally. “May I introduce the king’s heir, Lady Mila of Avalon.”
The queen holds me at arm’s length and looks me up and down with a huge smile on her pretty face.
“You are the mirror of your mother, Lady Mila. But I am forgetting myself.”
And she curtsies.
What do I do? Do I curtsey back? She’s a queen. My dad’s a king. But they’re not together. And I’m a princess. But doesn’t a queen rank higher than a princess?
I’m so confused.
“It doesn’t seem like a day has passed since I delivered you into the world,” continues Queen Guinevere. “What an arrival you made, in the midst of battle.”
She finally lets go of me, after kissing me on both cheeks. I’m still doing my best impression of a fish – open mouth, shut mouth, open mouth again. Queen Guinevere then turns her attention to my sister.
“Has there been any change, Merlin?” she asks gently.
“The curse is deepening its hold. I fear we do not have much time, your majesty,” replies the old man.
“I have convened a council of the Round Table,” says Queen Guinevere. “As soon as the king arrives, we will start the search.”
“For what?” I ask.
“The Ring of Morgana,” he replies. “The ring is the key to breaking the curse, I am certain of it.”
“But what if we don’t find it?” I ask. “There has to be another way of curing Lilly. The ring could be anywhere. It might still be back in my time – in my living room.”
“I had hoped never to see that cursed ring again,” says Queen Guinevere. She’s no longer looking at Lilly, she’s staring at the flaming torch that is fixed to a cast-iron wall sconce. It looks like a bright red ice-cream in a cone.
“The Ring of Morgana served its purpose at the time,” says Merlin. “It was folly to believe Nimue would not find a way, eventually.”
“Why do you keep calling it the Ring of Morgana?” I ask, skirting around asking the question that is starting to haunt my thoughts ever since Uncle Bed left me in the forest.
“Because the ring belongs to her,” replies Merlin, with a tone that implies I’ve just asked the dumbest question in the world.
“But Uncle Bed said my mother was Morgana. Uncle Bed doesn’t lie, but wasn’t Morgana a witch? She is in the legends from my time.”
“Morgana was a sorceress of enormous power,” replies Queen Guinevere, taking my hand. “And I witnessed your mother do something extraordinarily brave. Yet Logres troubled her. Time has healed the hurt in my heart, and that in Lady Natasha’s, but there are others in Logres who are not so forgiving. Together, we will cure the king’s daughter and you will be able to return to your homestead with your mother. She no longer belongs here.”
Then there’s a crash, a muffled cry, and the chilling sound of metal slicing against metal.
“Gerrof me.”
“RUSTIN!” I scream, running out into the corridor.
A bruised and bloodied Rustin is being wrestled to the floor by four guards. Two have their swords out, while another, who is the one that Rustin is struggling against the most, is trying to put a knife to his throat.
“Get off,” I cry. “Don’t touch him.”
I run towards the mass of bodies. Long red cloaks are flapping as legs and arms flail. A primal instinct to protect takes over. My mother told me to use my Taekwondo training and it comes as natural as breathing. Despite the fact I am wearing tight red jeans, I still manage to pull off a pretty impressive roundhouse kick to a small guard who is barely taller than me. Composing myself, I settle into a back stance. Inhaling deeply, I bend my knee up and - BAM - a front kick to the face of another guard who has an ill, yellow-tinged complexion.
Two guards already down, two to go.
Adrenaline is rushing through me. I feel alive. Forty eight hours of stress and tension is diluting away as I take on the third guard with a rapid volley of punching hand twists to the face, aiming particularly for his bulbous nose that looks like a strawberry in need of pulping.
The fourth guard is the one holding a knife to Rustin’s throat. We are at an impasse, or so he thinks. Rustin winks at me and I know what to do. I turn around one hundred and eighty degrees so my back is facing the guard and kick my leg back in a straight line at the same time. I feel the force as it c
onnects. The guard goes flying back, the knife goes spinning in the air and the crowd goes wild.
Okay, Rustin and Queen Guinevere go wild, but I know the guards on the floor, bleeding copiously from bloodied noses, are secretly impressed too. They just won’t admit it.
Rustin stands up and runs his fingers through his messy hair. I notice his knuckles are cracked and covered in dried blood.
“What happened to you?” I ask, hugging him tightly.
“It was nothing,” he replies, with a shrug, but I can feel his heart pounding against my chest.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
But it remains nothing, because another cacophony of ear-splitting trumpets announces the arrival of my dad, accompanied by scores of weirdly-dressed minions scurrying after him.
I start to laugh. I can’t help it. Everyone is looking at my father with an expression of reverence. It’s like he’s surrounded by puppies.
“What on earth?” exclaims my father. He’s seen the four guards and what’s left of their faces.
“They were attacking Rustin,” I reply tartly, throwing my head back. “You made me take Taekwondo lessons for a reason, and I’m finally putting it to use.”
“She is wonderful, sire,” exclaims Queen Guinevere. Rustin nudges me and I nudge him back. That descends into a full-on elbow fight, but then Rustin cheats by flicking me on the nose with his forefinger which immediately brings tears to my eyes.
It feels so good to have him here. I adore Katie, but she would be freaking out about being in a castle and wanting to try on crowns and crap like that. I just want some food and a hot shower. Rustin is just so easy with doing and saying little.
“For heavens sake, Mila. You’ve been here ten minutes,” says my father. “Could you at least try to stay out of trouble? And where is Lilly? Where’s my little girl?”
My father sweeps past me and goes into the small windowless room where Lilly is lying unconscious and ageing. I stay outside in the corridor. So many of his minions follow him in that I know I would start freaking and panicking if I went in there too.
My mother kisses me on the side of the head. I didn’t even realise she was there; I only saw my dad. She nods her head to the bleeding guards and smirks at me. It’s her way of telling me she approves.
I like the way my mother is around me in this strange place. Back home, in my real home, Lilly is her angel and I’m a daddy’s girl. But here there has been a total role-reversal. I don’t know why, but I wouldn’t mind holding on to this for a bit longer.
Auntie Titch, Uncle Bed, Talan and Gareth bring up the rear. My aunt hugs me, while my uncle and the others laugh as they help up the fallen guards.
“I see Logres will have to be on its best behaviour with you two here,” says Auntie Titch. “Day one and two fights under your belts already.”
“Two fights?” I ask.
“We suggested to the king that he knight young Rustin here,” replies Talan. “But alas, he will have to prove his worth once more. Fighting the villagers of Balaton was not deemed enough for the chance of a seat at the Round Table.”
“You got into a fight?”
“Yes.” Rustin’s face has gone blotchy.
“A real fight?”
“I can take people on, you know. I never get the chance back home, not with you and Aidan ready to kick the crap out of anyone who looks at me the wrong way.”
“Why did you get into a fight in that village?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No. You weren’t the one being dragged from a horse,” I reply.
Rustin rolls his eyes to the high ceiling and shakes his head. That just makes everyone laugh even louder. I don’t understand. What’s so funny?
I’m about to start protesting when I’m distracted by another figure, half-hidden behind a stone pillar. Gareth is the one that follows my line of sight.
“Come here, Melehan,” he says in a soft voice. “I’ll introduce you to the king’s daughter.”
It’s the same boy I saw in the forest. He’s tall, but muscular. His blonde hair looks darker here in the castle, as do his eyes. He’s another one with cheekbones to die for.
“Lady Mila, may I introduce to you my ward and squire,” says Gareth, with a fond smile that is the complete antithesis to the look of hatred that the boy gave him when we were in the forest.
“Hi.” I stick my hand up in a blunt wave.
“Melehan,” says the boy in a deep voice. “Ward and squire to Sir Gareth of Orkney, and son of the late Sir Mordred of the Round Table.”
Chapter Fifteen
Conduit of Flame
“Melehan, could you accompany Lady Mila and her companion around the castle whilst we attend to the meeting of the knights?” asks Gareth.
He’s looking at Melehan like he’s his son or something; Gareth’s expression is a mixture of pride and warmth, but the exchange between my aunt and uncle doesn’t match it.
It’s only for a split second, but I’m sure they look worried.
“What about Lilly?” I ask. “I’m supposed to be helping her.”
“You can’t do anything yet, Mila,” says Auntie Titch. “This isn’t a matter of getting Lilly to a doctor. This is far more dangerous. We need to meet with the Round Table and Merlin to decide on what action to take that doesn’t put you in any danger.”
“Yeah, because that’s not happened yet,” replies Rustin sarcastically. I repress a smile. The relief I feel at seeing him again is so real I can feel the warmth of it wrapping around me.
“Where are we going to sleep while we’re here?” I ask. “And can we please have some proper food?”
“I’ll ensure that is seen to immediately,” says Queen Guinevere. She claps her hands twice and two young girls appear out of nowhere. It’s like they bled out of the stone walls.
“You are to attend to Lady Mila’s every whim while she is a guest of the court,” orders the queen. “And Melehan, you are to attend to her companion as if he were a visiting lord.”
With a slight purse of the lips, Melehan bows. I glance at my aunt for her reaction, but she has been distracted by my father and mother who have come out of Lilly’s room. They’re talking in low voices with their heads so close they’re almost touching. My father kisses her on the cheek and sweeps down the hall with his minions scurrying behind him. My mother stands in the doorway, looking down at her hands. She’s stretching her long fingers out as if she’s got cramp. It’s only when she notices people looking at her that she stops. When she goes back into Lilly’s room, she slams the door with such force that dust cascades down from the ceiling.
They’ve both left me.
“The king may not approve,” says Queen Guinevere, as she glides along the corridor with me, Rustin and Melehan walking behind her in a procession, “so be ready to flee to other quarters, Master Rustin. However, as I am still the queen until your father sits at the Round Table, then I think I can overrule him – for now.”
She turns and winks at me. I like the queen already. She’s less serious than my aunt and very, very flirty with anything that has a pulse. The guards are literally drooling as she walks past them, swishing her hips and waving.
She’s also putting me and Rustin into rooms next to one another. Dad’ll freak, of course, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and he’s busy now anyway. I doubt there’ll be any knocks on the bedroom door to check whether I’m doing my homework in Camelot.
Melehan is silent the entire walk to the rooms. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for permission. Then again, maybe he thinks it’s too difficult to get a word in edgeways with Rustin, who is asking question after question about the castle and the knights and the Round Table...
...and then he starts asking about the furniture and I give up. We’re in a castle, my dad is a mythical king and there’s a dude called Merlin floating about, but Rustin wants to know about which kind of oak they use for carving the chairs.
It’s only when we
get to a circular staircase that I notice I’m doing exactly the same stretching of my fingers that my mother was. But it isn’t because of cramp. My fingers feel tingly, like I’ve slept on them and the circulation is only just coming back. As we climb up, Melehan takes my hand to help me. A charge of static electricity momentarily shocks us both, but I don’t just feel it, I see it, and it’s just like the purple sparks that were charging from my fingers as I entered the castle on horseback.
I wait for Melehan to recoil, to shout a warning or something, but he doesn’t. He just smiles, and for the first time I see colour in his large eyes.
“Holy crap, Mila,” cries Rustin. He’s so loud I can hear him through the stone walls. “This room is bigger than my entire house.”
“Does it meet with your approval, Lady Mila?” asks Queen Guinevere. “There are bigger bedchambers, but I thought the view would please someone who loves to look out over the trees. I thought it would remind you of home.”
The room I’ve been taken to is twenty times the size of my bedroom back in Avalon Cottage. Heck, the four-poster bed is bigger than my old bedroom. And Lilly’s. Combined.
My fingers run down the heavy purple drapes that screen the end of the bed. It’s the thickest velvet I’ve ever felt. There’s a massive black stone fireplace built into the wall, and the fire is crackling and flaming away. It’s so big it reminds me of the magical fire that covered our ceiling before my mother and Lilly were taken away.
“I will have the maids bring up your wares and food, Lady Mila,” says the queen. “You may wish to change into the same garments as Lady Natasha and I wear though. We find riding horses more comfortable with...padding.” She winks and I grin. She knows the reason I waddled like a duck up the stone stairs.
But for the luxuries inside the room, it’s the view from the lead-latticed windows that takes my breath away. Snow-capped mountains lined with the greenest trees I’ve ever seen. And directly below, I can see a maze shaped like a map of Britain. Red, white and blue blossom is already starting to bud on several of the bushes.
