Chapter 48 #2
“Not at all,” I said. “But I hold no patience for sly, elusive talk. Be frank—what are you asking of me?”
“Then forthright we must be,” he said indulgently. “I want you to stand by my side as I bring the kingdom to heel. You would lend me your powers, your incredible grasp of magic, to help bring about this realm’s next glorious era. Is that honest enough?”
“Somewhat,” I replied. “However, my life is comfortable, hard-won. What you are offering sounds a great deal of work. Why would I be compelled?”
He gave a short, appreciative laugh, then fell serious.
“Why would you not, given what you, and your reputation, have unfairly endured? In the Royal Court, I’ve heard you called a corrupted sorceress, a spurned woman riven with jealousy and bitterness, a lascivious seducer of men.
A liar and a witch. You could change what the world says about you. ”
“How amusing of you to think I care for idle talk. What others say has never mattered, and cannot compel me.”
“There will be other rewards, naturally,” he assured me. “Titles, political status, acclaim, your own feast day—whatever you wish for. If you lend me your powers, I will share the spoils of mine.”
I pulled a considering face. “Until now, only High Kings have sought to harness magic for their own ends. Is that what you wish to be, Sir Mordred—a king?”
He made his expression modest, forbearing, entirely for my benefit. “My thoughts have only been for what is needed to make the kingdom grow strong again. But of course, it follows that the realm will expect someone to wear the crown.”
My gamble upon his nature had succeeded; he liked to be resisted and challenged, the perfect opportunity for him to show off. To gain all I needed, he must want to impress me, and I must keep my composure.
“Why would it be you?” I asked. “King Arthur has no named successor. When the country hears of his death, there will be civil war, of the likes this land has not seen since his coronation. You do not have Arthur’s authority, his pedigree or reputation as a ruler.
You do not possess Lancelot’s prowess, his battle record or the loyalty of great knights that he inspires.
Do you truly believe you have the fortitude to hold the Crown of All Britain? ”
Mordred stiffened slightly, but covered it with a mocking smile.
“No one in their right mind would believe this a simple task,” he said.
“That, my dear aunt, is why I need you. I don’t want a Merlin the Wise, to worship the skies and order me to fear the wrong star.
I want the courage and mastery I saw when you brought my bleeding, convulsing half-brother back from certain death.
A force that can help me create my own fate. ”
He was more astute than I had given him credit for, as if he had known to be compared to Merlin was the last thing I wished to hear.
“An intriguing prospect,” I said. “But with great magic comes great cost, and I am only one woman. I cannot control the perception of the entire Seven Realms. How could I trust you would hold a crown upon your head in the meantime?”
“I have ways to bring the kingdom to heel,” he replied.
“These past few months, I have held many meetings with the country’s elder lords, which has gained me considerable favour.
I have listened, been generous—even if Camelot’s former great knights rebel, I am confident the barons will stand beside me, with men and swords if necessary. ”
Courting them with Arthur’s wine, I thought. Buying allies with his gold. Plotting his demise within his own castle walls.
Impatience was rising within me like high tide, so I chose to use it. “Is that all?” I said. “Do you believe that is enough?”
“It is a great deal,” Mordred said pettishly, then quickly smoothed over his demeanour. “Indeed, that is not even the most compelling part of the plan. Before anything else, I will marry Queen Guinevere.”
My restless body stilled. “You’ll…what?”
“Marry King Arthur’s widow. Yes, she is past her best days and it’s almost an act of charity, but it has its purposes.
” His voice held a hint of pride underneath the matter-of-fact tone.
“That alone should keep the populace on side, calm the lords, appease the clergy. Perhaps I will succeed in giving her the child King Arthur or her famed knightly lover never could. Even at her age, I’m sure the Lord would smile upon us. ”
He grinned conspiratorially, certain he had finally convinced me. Cold seeped into my marrow, a vicarious dread I hadn’t felt since my years under Uther Pendragon’s monstrous eye. My composure shook, then fractured.
“She will refuse,” I snapped. “There will be no compelling her to such an act.”
At my mask slipping, his grey eyes clouded.
“She will have no choice, if she wishes to live,” he said.
“What do you care, my vengeful aunt? Queen Guinevere and Morgan le Fay have carried a mutual grudge since Camelot’s earliest days—surely whatever means are necessary to bend the Queen to my will would be well deserved in your eyes? ”
The knowing, amused sneer was back on his face, He knew I could not deny relishing the idea of the Queen’s ruin: I had rained on her, disrupted her favourite festivals, sent magpies to fly at her head.
I had constantly tried to tell the world that she was adulterous, exactly as Mordred had succeeded in doing.
Her actions had led to the loss of mine and Accolon’s child, so I had never questioned my right to seek restitution for my pain.
Of course I had plotted Guinevere’s downfall, because she had been the first architect of mine. But I had never thought of her confined, or forced and tortured by men, because the idea made me sick to my stomach.
However, I had to tread carefully.
“A king must do what is necessary,” I said. “Whatever means used to persuade her to your suit, I cannot say I will lose sleep over it. When will this joyous occasion take place?”
“Very soon. The Queen has been in the Caerleon fortress since her husband went to war, but I have recently called her back to Camelot. When she arrives, I will greet her, along with the archbishop. We will be wedded and bedded before she has chance to protest.”
I swallowed a surge of disgust. “In that case, I hope this is not an invitation. I have little time to attend a wedding, even a royal one.”
“The coronation, perhaps.” He regarded me with a hooded amusement. “Very well, dear aunt, I have satisfied your questions. Do you agree to join my cause?”
“I cannot yet say,” I replied. “As you can see, I have this valley to consider, a household to run, responsibilities to the people here. I need time to think.”
His pleasant expression froze. “What is there to think on? I am in great haste and cannot delay securing this kingdom, protecting its future. If you prevaricate, or make the wrong decision, you might end up with no valley—and God forbid, no people—to consider at all.”
His words were murky, but the threat beneath was clear enough.
Immediately, the atmosphere shifted, a tremor shivering through my veins as Sir Mordred’s intentions seeped into the magic surrounding the valley.
I felt the protective charms reach out like vines, silvery threads drawn to the house and into the walls, through the windows and floorboards.
“The kingdom is crying out for a leader, Lady Morgan,” Mordred went on. “And I am all it needs—strict, ambitious and fierce in defence. With or without you, I will succeed. Those who bite my firm hand, or deny my rule, will have no future.”
He gestured to me and my anger ignited, bringing me to my feet, the dragon in my belly awoken by yet another man’s refusal to recognize that he was not in authority here. The game was gone; no more would I play.
“You will have no rule,” I said. “Dead or alive, you could never defeat King Arthur. If the world remembers you at all, it will be in the shadow of his name.”
Slowly, Sir Mordred rose and attempted to laugh, but it came forth as a humourless bark.
“Foolish, just like your legendary brother,” he sneered. “Stubborn, self-righteous, undeserving of such power.”
The first tendrils of fairy magic crept soundlessly around his arms. “Prepare yourself,” I said. “You have only a few breaths left on my land.”
He glanced down and shied away from the charms. They dissipated into the air like diamond dust, then reformed around his body again.
“You may believe you are unbreachable,” Mordred said. “But I warn you, Lady Morgan—there are always ways to come to harm. A new world is dawning, and if you do not make yourself useful to me, you and everything you love will be fed to its jaws.”
His limbs were corded with silver now, charms hardening into steel rope. Clenching my fists, I drew them taut. He fought against his confinement, but my magic was strong, armoured with fury.
“You mistake me for one who has never had to do battle for her freedom,” I said. “So hear me, now and for all time. I am no man’s weapon to wield.”