Chapter 25
‘Itried – I did,’ Lamorna said. Firestorm nudged against her hand and even as her heart swelled, she wished he wouldn’t.
Mordred looked like he was ready to murder the dragon.
Lamorna had the horrible feeling that if he were to raise a hand or weapon towards Firestorm, she’d throw herself in its path.
She swallowed. ‘Mordred—’
He shook his head. They’d been in the cavern beneath the castle with Elaine for over an hour.
An hour of Lamorna trying to convince Firestorm that Mordred was a friend, that he wasn’t going to hurt him, that the dragon could trust him.
But Firestorm had not listened, more interested in bunting his great head against Lamorna’s hand.
She knew it was her fault. Mordred had made no secret he wanted Firestorm to be a weapon, to use him in whatever was going to happen with Arthur.
The very idea of it made Lamorna’s stomach turn and she wondered if Firestorm had sensed that, if the dragon had somehow read the thoughts from her deepest mind.
But now Mordred was angry again. He’d tried the blood ritual once more, the same one he’d used to wake Firestorm, but using his blood and not Lamorna’s. It made no difference.
Mordred’s anger was not just about the dragon – he was worried he did not have enough men supporting him, that when it came to the battle he anticipated, he would be outnumbered. For all of his confidence, Lamorna knew he was worried, and she’d learnt that when Mordred was worried, he grew angry.
Firestorm was busy gnawing on the carcass of some large animal.
Elaine had said he didn’t need to eat to survive – he was a magical being – but he liked chewing on things, so Lamorna had organised for the remains of whatever wasn’t consumed by the people here to be put aside.
Everyone knew there was a dragon living beneath the castle, and most of them, even the toughest of men, were terrified of it.
In the end, Calla had helped Lamorna bring the food to Firestorm.
Mordred cast a dark look at the dragon, then stormed from the cavern. Lamorna and Elaine hurried after him, trailing him into the hall, which was where he liked to go when he was cross. Lamorna had caught him pacing in front of the thrones occasionally.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lamorna said again.
Mordred turned to her. His shoulders were stiff and his face rigid, but then it changed.
His eyes rolled back in his head, and he swayed on his feet before collapsing into a heap on the floor.
Lamorna gasped and raced to his side, dropping to her knees to place her hand on his forehead.
He was sweaty and his skin felt like a fire.
‘He’s burning up!’ she exclaimed, biting her lip, trying to remember what to do. Mordred’s eyes were closed and his breathing was shaky. ‘He needs to get cool. We need to bring his body temperature down.’
‘How? I can’t do that. I can’t counteract what he has done,’ Elaine explained.
‘Not with magic,’ Lamorna snapped, glaring at the Red Sister. ‘The normal way. A cold bath and cool cloth. Find someone to help me move him. And find my aunt!’
When Elaine didn’t move, Lamorna got up and rushed to the door, flinging it open and shouting at the man on guard to find Tamora urgently.
She returned to Mordred’s side, doing her best to mop the sweat from his skin with the sleeve of her dress.
No matter how hard she tried, the droplets rushed back to coat his face and neck.
She didn’t glance up when the doors burst open. Footsteps crossed the stone floor and then Tamora, long red braid sneaking over her shoulder like a snake, was kneeling on Mordred’s other side. ‘What happened?’
Lamorna shook her head, not knowing how to explain it.
Tamora pursed her lips, placing her hand on Mordred’s forehead as Calla came barrelling into the room, breathless.
She skidded to a stop when she saw them.
Lamorna took hold of Mordred’s hand while her aunt sent Calla off to collect supplies.
Lamorna would not cry. She refused to. She would be strong, because that was what Mordred wanted.
‘He’s so hot,’ Tamora stated. ‘What was he doing?’
‘Messing in things he shouldn’t be,’ Elaine announced. Lamorna glared at her.
‘Magic?’ Tamora asked, and when Elaine nodded, she sighed. ‘I can’t treat magical wounds, Lamorna.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lamorna whispered. Mordred hadn’t opened his eyes and Lamorna didn’t know how it was possible, but he was growing hotter, so much that steam seemed to rise from his skin. Elaine tutted in the background and Lamorna ignored her.
‘I mean I do not know how to treat them,’ Tamora said. ‘But I can treat the fever and hopefully, that should be enough.’
When Calla returned, her arms were laden with jars of herbs, a basin and cloth.
Arwen hurried in carrying a bucket of fresh water.
Lamorna breathed a sigh of relief. Calla helped her remove Mordred’s shirt while Tamora poured water into the basin, adding a pile of dried herbs.
At her instruction, Arwen dipped the cloths into the water, then lay them over Mordred’s chest and arms while Lamorna wiped his face, praying to the One God, to Ereshki, to whoever was listening, not to let Mordred die.
They waited. Arwen dampened the cloths every few minutes.
When Mordred finally opened his eyes, Lamorna wanted to cry. ‘You’re going to be alright,’ she whispered. ‘You need to stop this, Mordred.’
‘Magic has a price, my love,’ he managed roughly.
‘Why does that price have to be you? If this is about the dragon, I’ll… I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll get him to like you, somehow. I’ll convince him to do what you want.’
Mordred’s fingers found her cheek, and she sniffed away her tears. Lamorna was aware of her aunt watching them.
Calla cleared her throat, gathering up the cloths. ‘I’ll take care of these,’ she said. As she and Arwen left, Alden came into the hall. When he saw Mordred lying there, still feverish and weak, he hurried over, demanding to know what had happened.
Lamorna drew herself up. ‘He’s fine,’ she said.
‘He needs to be in bed,’ Alden countered, his brow furrowed in concern.
‘I’m aware,’ Lamorna snapped, silently asking her aunt for help.
Tamora would tell Alden to go away and let her care for Mordred.
Instead, Tamora nodded, asking Alden to help Mordred up and get him to bed where he could be comfortable.
Feeling betrayed, Lamorna could only watch as Mordred leant heavily against Alden and was led from the hall.
Alden had his arm around Mordred’s middle.
Lamorna’s hands curled into fists. She bit the inside of her cheek and went to hurry after them, but Tamora caught her arm.
Lamorna, cheeks burning, pulled herself free. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
Tamora looked like she wanted to say something more, but she collected her herbs and basin, then left the hall.
Lamorna hurried after Mordred and Alden.
The corridors were not wide enough for her to walk alongside them, so she was forced to walk behind, her scowl deepening when they made it to her and Mordred’s room.
Alden put Mordred to bed, but when he went to pour a mug of water, Lamorna snatched it from his hand.
‘You can go,’ she hissed.
He frowned, but nodded, and when he was gone, she crawled onto the bed next to Mordred.
She would do what she promised. She would make the dragon like him.
She wasn’t sure how, but she would, because she could not lose him to a magic he was not supposed to be using.
There would be no convincing him to stop, she knew that as well.
Elaine knew it, so Lamorna would do what she could and hope it was enough.
She woke hours later with an empty stomach and a parched throat. Her eyes were puffy from tears she couldn’t remember crying. Mordred still slept. He was still too warm, so she got up and ran a damp cloth gently over his face and chest. He didn’t stir, but his breathing was normal.
Everything was going wrong. This was supposed to be their new start, the beginning of a new world, only it was not what Lamorna had thought it would be, not with that dreadful Mark and his Witchfinders, not with Alden here, always lurking and wanting what was not his, and not with…
Lamorna bit her lip, then hurried from the room, making her way down to the cells. She had only been there once but had not forgotten the way. When she saw the guards, she lifted her chin to make it seem like she was on an important errand in the middle of the night.
The dungeons were draped in darkness. Lamorna did not bother with a light. She walked slowly, purposefully, so he would hear her coming. Yet, when she reached Bryn’s cell, she wished she had a light. She wanted to see his face.
Lamorna said nothing for a long moment, trying to work out why she was here in the first place.
Her insides were burning, her heart sore and she wanted to…
hurt someone. The desire to break something was pushing against her skin, and she almost wished she’d brought a weapon.
Cruelty sat on her tongue, burning her with its bitterness, and she took a deep breath and swallowed it whole.
‘Hello, Bryn,’ she said.
‘Why are you here?’ His voice was pained and his breath came in short, sharp bursts.
‘I’m wondering,’ Lamorna said. She trailed the tip of her finger down one of the bars, watching Bryn closely. ‘How it feels.’
‘It fucking hurts, Lamorna,’ he snapped. ‘My insides are being rearranged and my very bones ache. Is that what you want to know?’
She shook her head. ‘That isn’t what I meant. I was wondering how it feels knowing you’re about to become the very thing you hate so much. A monster, nothing more than a monster.’
He growled at her in the darkness.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think it’s fitting.’
‘You would.’
She chuckled and stepped closer to the bars. ‘Mordred says that soon, there will be nothing left of who you used to be. Does that upset you?’
‘Go away, Lamorna. I don’t want to see you anymore,’ Bryn hissed.
‘But I want to see you,’ she whispered fiercely.
‘I want you to know how I feel. I wanted to watch you die. That would be justice for what you did to my sister, what you did to Calla. Part of me was angry that this had happened to you, but now, now, I’m thrilled.
Truly I am. This is nothing less than what you deserve, Bryn. ’
He was still shouting obscenities at her as she strode away and left him in the darkness.
‘How is Mordred?’ Tamora asked neutrally. Lamorna kept her eyes on the timber workbench covered in herbs and jars.
‘He is getting better,’ she answered. ‘He is not sleeping well. I am giving him milk of the poppy, but he is restless and still a little feverish.’
‘Here,’ Tamora said, pressing a small brown jar into Lamorna’s hands. ‘Make him a tea with this. It is bitter but I don’t think there is any honey.’
‘Yarrow. Thank you,’ Lamorna said.
‘I don’t have a lot left. There is likely to be some growing wild in the Fey Highlands,’ Tamora added.
Lamorna nodded. ‘I will organise someone to go and gather it for you.’
Tamora gave her an interested look. ‘Do you like…’ She paused and shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘No, what is it?’ Lamorna asked.
‘I was thinking how changed you are, Lamorna,’ her aunt said. ‘You are a lot stronger than I ever thought you were, and that is my mistake for thinking that. You have shown a great deal of courage. Leaving Kernou, twice now, and making a new life for yourself.’
Lamorna could sense the disapproval beneath the words. ‘But you don’t agree with my choices.’
‘If they make you happy, then they are the right ones,’ Tamora said.
‘You aren’t happy, are you? I know I asked that before, but I was hoping that, with time, you would be,’ Lamorna said. ‘I can see you’re not.’
Her aunt didn’t respond, watching her shrewdly. Lamorna took a deep breath.
‘If you wish it, you can return to Cruithea,’ she said. ‘Keraine is there. As are your friends. A life. I want you to be happy.’
‘Who will care for the sick here if I am gone?’
Lamorna chewed her lip. ‘We have the apothecarist from Kernou here.’
Tamora laughed. ‘I guess he is better than nothing. I will think about it.’
Lamorna nodded and picked up one of the bottles filled with belladonna berries. ‘This is poisonous, right? I remember you telling Jen and I not to touch it.’
Tamora nodded. ‘Yes, it’s poisonous, but only in large doses.’
‘How much is large?’ Lamorna asked.
Careful, her inner voice cautioned, but she didn’t know why.
She tried again. ‘I mean, if it’s poisonous, why do you use it?’
‘In small doses, it’s useful to help people sleep, to help with headaches and upset stomachs. Too large a dose will cause blurred vision and fever, accelerated heart rate and hallucinations,’ Tamora explained.
Lamorna swallowed. ‘Death?’
‘Yes, death.’ Tamora picked up the bottle of belladonna, holding it up to the light so they could both see the tiny, dried berries inside. ‘Like everything, there is good in the bad,’ she mumbled. Lamorna nodded and listened as her aunt explained more about the properties of liverwort.
Her eyes kept returning to belladonna.