Epilogue
The Sword of the White Dragon was wrapped in heavy cloth.
Katarin had not unwrapped it, not even to peek at the dragon on the hilt, during the long journey from Camelot to Cruithea.
She’d kept it safe, let no one touch it.
Now it was time to fulfil the promise she’d made to her brother all those months ago.
‘I still don’t agree with this,’ Olwen muttered.
‘Tough.’
‘Just because you get to wear that fancy crown with its feathers doesn’t mean you should be rude,’ Olwen complained cheekily. She caught Kat’s hand and lifted it to her lips. ‘I’m your most loyal and obedient subject, after all.’
‘Obedient?’ Kat laughed.
‘Wear the crown tonight and I’ll show you how obedient I can be,’ Olwen murmured against Kat’s fingers. ‘Where are we going anyway?’
Kat glanced up at the trees stretching above them. ‘I’m not sure. I walked in my dreams to a place I’d never seen before. There was a lake, but it was Cruithea. There has never been a lake here.’
They continued through the forest, leaves crunching underfoot.
The season was turning and the forest was awash with reds, golds and browns.
The air held a bite beneath the last breath of warm summer air.
The Sword was strapped to Katarin’s back – she could feel the weight of it.
She tried not to remember the last time she had held it.
Mordred’s face still haunted her dreams on occasion, but the last time she had seen him, he had smiled at her.
‘Arthur will be coming for the Fire Night celebrations,’ Kat said.
‘I didn’t know he’d written,’ Olwen replied. ‘And as your advisor and bodyguard, expert in all things, I should have known.’
Kat gave her a quick smile.
‘I see. You’ve been spying on people again?’ Olwen shook her head in mock outrage, brown curls dancing around her cheeks.
‘Not spying. I want to make sure they’re alright. That isn’t a crime,’ Kat argued.
When she last saw Arthur in a dreamwalk, he set the White Dragon free.
The beast took to the skies and Arthur hadn’t moved until the dragon was nothing but a speck in the distance.
Then he’d turned to Kat and given her the most beautiful smile.
A peaceful, contented smile that hurt her heart with its brightness and promise.
The world was healing, blossoming hope spreading from Camelot to cover the continent.
Olwen threaded her fingers through Kat’s and they walked in silence, the forest breathing around them. ‘And Iouen?’ Olwen asked, as Kat knew she would. ‘How is my dear little brother?’
‘He’s fine.’
‘Just fine? If you’re going to spy on people you need to do a better job,’ Olwen commented. ‘Gaheris could probably teach you some things.’
Katarin sighed. ‘I know The Excalibur is his now but…’
Olwen rolled her eyes, chuckling.
‘I mean, there are ways to go about things.’
‘He’s got Ordes for that,’ Olwen reminded her. ‘If Iouen is truly doing an awful job I’m sure our half-god will pull him into line. If he doesn’t, our syhren will, and even Iouen isn’t dumb enough to ignore the Mistress of the Seas.’
‘You know she hates that,’ Kat pointed out.
Olwen grinned. ‘You worry too much.’
It was true. Kat did worry about everyone – they were her family, even though they didn’t see each other as much as she’d like.
The last time had been at Arthur’s coronation in the spring.
Her brother had put the Sword of the White Dragon in her hands and begged her to take it from Camelot.
He was happier with the Treasure gone, as Ordes and Jenyfer were happy on the water. She still missed them all though.
A pisky appeared ahead of them, scampering along the path on nimble legs. He stopped, glancing back at them. Kat and Olwen exchanged a look.
‘We have a guide,’ Olwen commented and set off after the pisky.
Kat followed, laughing. Olwen had taken everything in her stride, so unflappable that Kat couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful that the Red Sister had chosen to follow her to Cruithea.
She truly didn’t know what she’d do without her.
Olwen and the pisky had stopped up ahead. ‘Kat,’ Olwen called. ‘You might want to come and see this.’
Heart pounding, an old familiar sense of dread washing through her, Kat picked up her pace. The sword bounced against her back, in time with the beating of her heart. Her fingers teased the hilt of her dagger, her mouth went dry and—
‘Oh!’
They stood on the edge of a lake, its surface sparkling in the sunlight.
‘Where did this come from?’ Kat breathed, but she knew. Ordes’ magic rippled over this place. Dragonflies hovered over the water and trees bent their heads towards it.
Willows. There had never been a willow tree in Cruithea.
She stared at the lake, heart pounding.
This was it. The place she had seen in her dreamwalk. It was fitting – Arthur’s sword, Ordes’ magic, water – Jenyfer. Kat laid the sword on the ground. Fingers trembling, she freed it from its wrapping. She exchanged a glance with Olwen. The Red Sister sighed.
‘If you must…’
Katarin picked up the sword and stood. It was heavy.
Unlike the last time she’d held it, there was no music, no whispered words.
It was just a sword. She exhaled in relief.
In the middle of the lake, the water rippled strangely.
Kat glanced down at the sword then pulled her arm back and threw it with everything she had.
It tumbled through the air in slow motion, seeming like it would never fall.
A hand shot from the water, catching the sword in pale fingers. Sunlight caught on the sword’s silver face before it was slowly pulled beneath the water.