I ordered Alys back to the house and spent hours riding the boundary, casting new silver threads inside the original veil until there was a shimmering secondary wall. By the time I had finished, it was late afternoon and the sky had darkened, heavy clouds hanging slate blue over the rooftops, flecks of rain slanting in on the wind. I ascended the turret stairs, limbs sodden with fatigue and blood twitching with the remnants of fairy magic.
Alys awaited me in the tower study. She wasn’t the pacing kind like I was, but the ledgers and quills on her table had been painstakingly aligned, and every surface had been dusted clean. The air was stuffy, so I opened the balcony door and dropped into a chair with my outdoor cloak still on. Within moments, the two magpies flew in, perching on the mantelpiece to shelter from the impending rain. It was testament to Alys’s distraction that she didn’t think to complain.
“You were gone a long time,” she said. “I was worried.”
“I wanted to make sure of every last thread,” I replied. “Now that it’s done, there’s time to breathe and think.”
“Does this mean Merlin knows where you are?”
“He probably knew as soon as I sent the letter to Arthur, maybe before. Who knows what information he holds from years of scheming and spying.”
“He can’t reach you, can he?”
I shook my head. “Ninianne’s protective charms do not lie. The fact that he’s not here bears that out. I sent the huntsman to check the chapel from a distance—he said the Camelot guards were trying to enter the valley and kept walking in circles. What the household must think of all this.”
“Thus far, they seem unconcerned,” Alys replied. “I told Sir Ceredig we’d be staying a while longer, and everyone is very pleased.”
“For how long, when they realize I’m besieging myself away from the High King and his pet wizard?”
Alys sat down, propping her chin on her fist. “Do you really think King Arthur sent Merlin against your wishes?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. Unless Merlin saw the letter somehow, or tricked Arthur into letting him go. I couldn’t even tell if the guards knew he was there. Perhaps he’s finally discovered that the notes he stole are fraudulent, and he can’t do what I can. The only certainty is that Merlin knows I’ve escaped and wants me back in his clutches, and I cannot leave here until I’ve thought of a way around him.”
“What about Tressa?” Alys’s voice took on a plaintive note. “She’s still at Camelot.”
“She’ll be fine under the care of Lady Clarisse. Given our delay, I’m glad she’ll be present to receive Yvain.” I leaned forwards and scrubbed my face with weary hands. “Oh God, he’ll be arriving soon and I’m not there. Why has Arthur done this? What should I do now? I need time to think.”
I pushed impatiently up from the chair, eliciting an irritable caw from one of the magpies. It flew out of the balcony door, pied wings stark against the cloud-darkened sky. A faint hiss took up as the rain began to fall, hitting stone and glass without respite.
“Looks like the downpour that was promised,” Alys said. “Let’s hope it’s not as severe as everyone expects.”
The weather had been largely wet going on a fortnight by then, the streams swollen and fit to burst, the river coursing high along the front of the house, and now this torrent, so loud and immediate it felt like my troubles had caused it somehow.
“Even Cornwall never had relentless wet weather like this,” I said, watching the river below plunge and crash. “Though you should be used to it. I thought the Cymri were raised by the rain?”
“We are, but this is unusual,” Alys replied. “Sir Ceredig says when the wells get as high as they are now, trouble is on the way.”
As if summoned, the knight appeared at the top of the tower steps, red-faced and stiff in the knees. “My ladies, thank goodness. You’re already in the tower. The river is rising and may flood the lower floors.”
“The river hasn’t burst its banks,” I said. “As long as this rain stops by nightfall, surely it should stay contained?”
Sir Ceredig shook his grey head. “It’s the force of the water, my lady. Several trees have been dragged downstream with grasses and mud, causing a dam near the stables. It’s too dangerous to clear the blockage, and the banks by the house look likely to break, causing the streams in the north valley to flood in turn. It’s happened before, and a few years ago a kitchen lad drowned. Please, stay here in safety.”
“What about the rest?” I asked. “The village on the stream plain? The people and their livestock, the gardens and houses?”
“There’s a high barn, my lady. They will know how to keep safe.” Despite his assurance, he looked wretched. “As for the rest, nothing can be done about the weather. If the water comes, it comes.”
“No,” I said, striding to the door. “If the water comes, then it will answer to me.”
Alys and Sir Ceredig in tow, I ran down the stairs and into the entrance hall. “Call as many stablelads and kitchen boys as you can,” I said. “Tell them to grab rakes, broom handles, anything long, and go to the riverbank where the dam is.”
Sir Ceredig began to protest, but Alys halted him. “We won’t let anyone come to harm,” she said, and he bowed and rushed off.
Pulling up my hood, I splashed across the waterlogged green and onto the old stone bridge. The river roared underneath, smashing into the arches and sending up wavelets of spray. Before long, the bridge would be overcome, perhaps washing away altogether. In the distance, a huddle of youths ran along the bank carrying various poles, Sir Ceredig tramping after with Alys.
Rain slashing into my hood, I faced the careering river and extended my arms. There was so much water, I barely had to reach for its essence. The element’s force hit me like a joust charge, but I absorbed its momentum, holding the river beneath the bridge until the bed had drained to a trickle. Though more plentiful, the unadulterated water was easier to control than Merlin’s enchanted moat, and once steadied, I found I was able to walk down the bank with the river at my fingertips, without fearing I would lose my grip.
Several lads stood in the dry gully, dragging out branches and mud, and pushing the tangle of tree trunks from where they had wedged. Alys and Sir Ceredig stood by, calling out directions and encouragement. As the last trunk broke free and they climbed to shore, I let the water go, easing its passage between the banks. The rain kept battering down, but the cleared riverbed was free-flowing now, and more than deep enough for the banks to hold.
Sir Ceredig hurried over, dripping wet and stammering in astonishment. “Lady Morgan, you…The house, the land…Everyone is saved.”
“I hope so,” I said. “I will answer any questions you have, but for now, please, take your brave lads inside. Make sure they are well dried and have a warm meal and potent drink. If any take chill, Lady Alys and I will treat them.”
The old knight nodded dazedly, beckoning to the row of equally stunned boys, and we all jogged back into the house.
“We need to get out of these wet clothes,” I said to Alys, but she had stopped, her gaze fixed on something outside the doorway. “What is it?”
“Someone’s there,” she said.
I squinted into the rain-filled dusk. She was right; in the distance, a pair of hooded riders were approaching at speed, horses spraying up water and mud. As we watched, the rider on the smaller horse pulled to a halt and dismounted, running towards us.
“What in God’s name?” I began, but Alys was already gone, unheeding of the rain, her focus on the cloaked figure. The stranger’s hood flew back, revealing a mass of curling, tow-coloured hair.
“Tressa!” Alys cried, and they threw themselves into an embrace, laughing, crying, kissing, as if their absence had been that of ten years. “My love, where did you…Oh, you’re drenched. Quickly, come inside.”
They ran back into the entrance hall, dripping and breathless, and Tressa embraced me in turn. “Thank God you’re all safe,” she said. “We were so worried.”
“Everything’s fine,” I said. “Who is we?”
Only then did I remember the second rider, a heartbeat before he strode in. He pushed his hood down, water pouring off him like some errant river god brought to land.
“Accolon,” I said, and his eyes met mine with the intensity that called out to the depths of me.
“He brought me from Camelot,” Tressa said. “Most likely saved my life.”
Alys dropped her hands from Tressa’s shoulders. “He what?”
Accolon offered her a tired smile, scraping slick hair off his forehead. “I thought you might want Tressa back.”
“But I never told you…” She trailed off, staring at him for a long, uncertain moment. Then all at once, Alys ran to Accolon and threw her arms about his neck, so fast he almost didn’t catch her.
“Thank you,” she said into his shoulder, as I watched her forgive him at last.
My emotions were churning harder than the floodwater I had held. “How are you here?” I asked Tressa. “You’re supposed to be in Camelot with Yvain.”
Her face drained. “Oh God,” she said. “I wish I didn’t have to bear this news.”
“What news?”
“Yvain never came back. The High King sent him to live permanently in Gore.”
“Gore?” I exclaimed, but her expression wavered in a way that gave me pause, then turned the fire in my bones to ice. “But…that’s not why you’re here, is it?”
Entire worlds seemed to implode in the time it took her to speak. “No, my lady. There’s something else.”
Reaching into her belt purse, Tressa drew out a crushed scroll and handed it to me, her face lined with a bleakness I’d never seen. I unrolled the damp parchment and saw the blood-red dragon seal.
“What is this?” I said.
“A Royal Decree,” she replied. “It’s been issued to all corners of the kingdom. King Arthur has declared you an Enemy of the Crown.”