Chapter 36 #3
In the end, they left with a promise from Agravaine that those who wished to join Mordred would come to him, but only after Mordred sent word they were needed. Lamorna wasn’t sure she trusted Mordred’s uncle, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Mordred seemed happy with the arrangement.
The syhren was waiting for them when they returned to Dinas Emrys.
Andromache’s silver hair glowed in the morning light – Lamorna had not realised the sun had climbed into the sky and wondered when that had happened.
Night had still had her claws in the world when they began the trek back from the Highlands.
Mordred didn’t pay the syhren any mind, sweeping past her through the doors of the Keep, Alden following. When Lamorna made to follow, Andromache stepped in front of her, barring the entrance. Her beautiful mouth curled into a sneer.
‘Yes?’ Lamorna asked. She didn’t want to talk to Andromache right now – or ever, really. Her head was filled with Isolde and what she had said about Mark’s cruelty. Mordred had not mentioned it, but on the walk back to the castle, Lamorna had been slowly burning inside.
Andromache was taller than Lamorna. She looked down at her, doing nothing to hide her disdain. ‘I am supposed to be reporting back to my master, yet neither you nor that would-be king of yours bother to share any important information with me. Where were you all just now?’
Lamorna drew herself up, refusing to be intimidated by Melodias’ pet. ‘None of your business.’
The syhren’s lips were a thin line. ‘The only reason I haven’t made all the men in this gods-forsaken place drown themselves in a bucket of their own piss is because of the promises Mordred made to my master.’
‘What promises?’ Lamorna snapped. Calla hovered near her elbow, hands on her hips as she glared at Andromache. Elaine said nothing, but Lamorna took courage from the presence of her friends. ‘I am not in the mood for this conversation. Get out of our way.’
Andromache made a hissing sound, like water spitting from a boiling pot.
She reached out and closed her scaled fingers around Lamorna’s forearm.
‘You need to start fulfilling your end of the bargain, human. I don’t care who you are.
I don’t care that you’re Jenyfer’s sister.
I will end your miserable life for real if you don’t—’
‘Stand aside,’ Lamorna said. She did not recognise her voice, the authority in it. Andromache did as she commanded, and with Calla and Elaine trailing her, Lamorna marched into the castle.
At the door to the Hall, Calla caught her arm gently. ‘What did you say to her? Isolde,’ she added.
‘I told her where her husband was,’ Lamorna said. ‘And now, I am going to tell Mordred to send him away.’
Calla frowned. ‘I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Lamorna.’
‘We shall see,’ Lamorna said. Calla left, still frowning, but Elaine remained. ‘Do you think it’s a bad idea as well?’
The Red Sister was silent for a long time before she spoke. ‘It doesn’t matter whether it is a good idea or not. Mordred’s fears are growing. He will want to keep Mark and his wretched Witchfinders here. I do not think he will listen to you, no matter how much you want him to.’
Lamorna placed her hand on the door. ‘He will if he wants my dragon to obey him.’ Without waiting for Elaine to respond, she pushed open the doors and went into the Hall.
Mordred and Alden were seated at one of the tables.
As Lamorna approached them, her gaze lingered on the stained-glass mosaic that reminded her of her sister.
Jenyfer would do this, she reasoned. She would not allow a man like Mark, a man who beat and tortured his wife, to remain here.
Mordred and Alden were talking in low voices.
It sounded like they were arguing. Good, a nasty little voice in Lamorna’s head whispered.
She took a seat, turning to Alden. ‘I need to speak to Mordred – alone,’ she added firmly.
She kept her hands in her lap so no one would notice her fingers were trembling.
Anger had thorns, and those thorns were digging into her.
Alden had not moved. ‘I am truly not in the mood, Alden,’ Lamorna snapped. ‘Get out.’
The Cruithean raised an eyebrow, but at a nod from Mordred, he left. Silence slunk into the Hall, wrapping itself around Lamorna as she tried to calm down. She did not want to sound irrational. She needed Mordred to listen to her, so she needed to be firm with him, too.
He was watching her curiously. ‘That was rude, Lamorna.’
‘I’m tired,’ she said. She was. After this, she would go to bed.
Mordred chuckled, as if to remind her she had followed him into the darkness of her own free will and now she could deal with the consequence of that. ‘You met my uncle,’ he said. ‘What did you—’
‘I don’t want to speak about him,’ Lamorna cut in.
‘Oh? Then what?’
‘Mark,’ Lamorna said. ‘You need to send him away.’
Mordred laughed. ‘I know you do not like him, Lamorna, but—’
She spoke across Mordred again. ‘He’s dangerous.’
‘Not as dangerous as he thinks he is, my love,’ Mordred said. He reached over and took her hand. ‘This is about Isolde and what she said, isn’t it?’
Lamorna nodded. Isolde was every woman in Kernou.
She was, for Lamorna, every battered woman, every supplicant, every slave to the false Word.
She wasn’t sure how to make Mordred understand that.
‘You don’t… you’re a man,’ she said, lowering her voice.
‘Other men don’t pose the same sort of danger to you that they do to me, to every woman here. ’
‘He is not Bryn,’ Mordred pointed out.
‘No, but he was,’ Lamorna said. ‘Which means deep down inside his festering heart, he still is. I don’t want him here.’
Mordred released her hand and sat back. He was frowning. ‘It isn’t as simple as that, Lamorna. This is war – I need every man I can get, even if they are terrible people.’
‘That’s the world you want then, is it?’ she asked hotly. ‘A world full of men like Mark? Like Bryn? Men who will do horrible things to get what they want.’ She folded her arms defiantly. ‘I thought you did not abide men like that.’
Mordred’s face hardened. ‘Lamorna, right now, you are testing my patience.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I hope I am.’
Mordred slammed his hand on the table, the action so sudden, so violent, that tears rushed into Lamorna’s eyes. She blinked them away and did not move, even though she wanted to race from the room. Calla and Elaine were right, she realised. It did not matter what she said.
‘You don’t understand,’ Mordred said tightly.
‘If I tell him to leave, he will take his men with him. They might be Magic Wielders – some are my people, Lamorna – but they see him as their saviour. And I need those men. Besides,’ he added, voice softening, ‘what better way to keep an eye on Mark than to have him here?’
Lamorna stood, wiping her shaking hands on her skirt. ‘I’m going to bed.’
‘I’ll be up in a moment.’
She shook her head. ‘No, you won’t. I think I need to be alone right now.’ Before Mordred could say anything else, she marched from the Hall, heart fit to burst. If Mordred wouldn’t do anything about Mark and his nastiness, she would. She wasn’t sure what.