Chapter 12 #2
Lamorna nodded, setting the bottle down and picking up another. She peered at the brown needle-like leaves, then opened the bottle and sniffed. ‘This one is rosemary. For inflammation. I remember you made a tea out of it once, when I hurt my ankle.’
Tamora turned to her, resting her hip against the bench. ‘And the next?’
The next jar was filled with silvery-green leaves. ‘Sage. For sore throats.’
‘And memory issues,’ her aunt added. ‘Lamorna, do you know what all of these herbs are?’
Lamorna frowned, chewing on her lip as she scanned the row of bottles. ‘There are some I don’t know,’ she admitted. One bottle had deep purple berries she did not recognise. Another was filled with similar berries, but they appeared more blue. ‘I don’t know these ones.’
‘Belladonna and juniper,’ Tamora said. She chuckled.
‘What?’ Lamorna asked. She hadn’t heard her aunt chuckle in a long time.
‘I’ve spent years thinking I was a dreadful teacher,’ Tamora replied. She smiled fondly. ‘I tried to teach you girls when you were young. Neither of you seemed to pay a shred of attention or remember anything. Your sister’s head was full of water and later, yours was full of…’
‘The One God,’ Lamorna finished.
‘Is it still?’
‘No.’
Tamora raised her eyebrows.
‘Not like it was, anyway,’ Lamorna said in a quiet voice. ‘It’s different now.’
Her aunt nodded. ‘It is.’
‘Where do you think Jenyfer is?’ Lamorna asked. At Tamora’s surprised look, she shrugged and added, ‘I miss her. I might not have always shown it, but I do love her. She’s my sister.’
Before her aunt could answer, someone knocked at the door.
A woman poked her head inside, saying one of the men had fallen and cut his arm while working in the yards, and could Tamora come?
She nodded and quickly gathered what she would need before sweeping from the room, leaving Lamorna standing in the herb-scented space alone.
She didn’t mind. She turned back to the jars, staring at them for a long time, before she left and went in search of Mordred.
He was in their room. He’d turned one of the seats around and was sitting facing the window, staring out at the barren landscape.
He glanced over his shoulder as Lamorna closed the door gently.
‘I’ve been with my aunt,’ she announced.
He nodded and turned back to the window.
‘Mordred, about the dragon—’ she began, then stopped, not truly knowing what to say. She approached him, taking note of the stiffness in his shoulders. ‘I didn’t mean for that to happen, but I meant what I said – I’ll help you.’
His laugh was dark. ‘How, Lamorna? What do you know about dragons?’
‘Probably about as much as you do,’ she said.
He shot her a sharp look, then sighed. ‘You don’t have any idea what’s happened, do you? This is more than a dragon not liking me. He was to be a weapon in this war against my cousin, and now he’s as useless to me as half the people here. I should have him put back to sleep.’
‘No!’ she cried. Mordred raised his eyebrows. ‘Please don’t do that.’
He stared at her for a long time, his eyes moving over her face, soaking her in, and she wondered what he could see. ‘You’re a fool,’ he said eventually.
Tears pricked her eyelids before she could stop them.
Lamorna blinked, willing them away, and lifted her chin.
She had already decided she would not be spoken to in such a way by a man, any man, including Mordred.
‘I shall stay with Calla tonight then,’ she said, her voice firm.
When he said nothing, made no move towards her, she swallowed and went into their sleeping area to gather a change of clothes and her hairbrush.
A tear slipped free. Furious, Lamorna pushed it from her cheek, clutching her belongings to her chest.
When she turned around, Mordred was standing in the doorway, his frame filling the space.
‘Can you move?’ she asked.
He came into the room, reaching out to take her things from her, dumping them on the floor. Lamorna stared at them, eyes blurred. Her fists curled.
‘Those are my things!’
Mordred’s finger slid beneath her chin, tipping her face up to his. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You are?’
He nodded, bending his head to brush his mouth over hers. He kissed the tears from her lashes. ‘I am. That was wrong of me, Lamorna. It isn’t your fault.’ He cupped her face, his palms hot as fire on her cheeks. ‘Do you forgive me?’
She swallowed as he moved closer, until his body was almost touching her. ‘It depends.’
‘On?’
Lamorna fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him against her.
‘On how you’re going to make it up to me.
You won’t ever speak to me like that again, you understand?
’ She wasn’t sure where her boldness had come from, but as the words left her lips, she decided she liked the way it made her feel – powerful, strong. Like Firestorm.
‘I understand,’ Mordred said softly.
‘Good.’
Mordred gave her a wicked smile, the sort of smile that she knew meant she would not be resting for some time.
Her stomach tightened in anticipation, her heartbeat raging, her breathing growing ragged.
She was still amazed sometimes at what a simple touch could do to her, and at how she was able to undo such a powerful man with nothing more than a kiss or the right amount of pressure on the right part of his body.
Emboldened, she stepped away from him and slowly peeled her clothes free, letting them pool at her feet.
She kicked them away, not taking her eyes from Mordred’s face, watching the way he watched her, the way he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.
Lamorna took a step backwards, towards the bed.
He followed her. Another, then another, until he caught her in his arms and kissed her so deeply her head was spinning and her body on fire by the time he pulled away.
His hands moved over the curve of her, stopping on her hips. He squeezed, drawing a gasp from her mouth, then his voice in her ear, low, deep and raw. ‘Turn around, my love, and bend over for me.’
Later, sweat-soaked and boneless, Lamorna lay with her head on Mordred’s chest.
‘I’ve missed you,’ she whispered, feeling foolish.
‘I hadn’t gone anywhere, Lamorna.’
‘No, but… still,’ she said. He kissed the top of her head, fingers stroking her spine lightly. ‘Mordred, do you think you’re doing the right thing?’
He was quiet for a moment, then, ‘Of course I do.’
Lamorna shifted so she could see his face. ‘But what do you want exactly?’
‘A world where those with magic are free. I told you this already.’
She regretted asking as his face flooded with all the tension she’d smoothed away. She swallowed. ‘Isn’t that what Arthur wants?’
Mordred was silent. His fingers stilled.
‘Maybe you should speak to him?’ Lamorna suggested.
With a sigh, Mordred nudged her off him and climbed out of bed, going to the window to stare out. Naked, he seemed so fragile, breakable somehow, and Lamorna was suddenly terrified, more than she had been before.
‘I want you to be safe,’ she whispered. All her boldness, all that strength and power she’d felt earlier had come undone.
Mordred gave her a smile over his shoulder. ‘You don’t have to worry about me, my love. Worry about those who stand in my way.’