Page 43 of The Faerie Handmaid

Morgana’s brows rose. “Whose thoughts?”

“It was Umer, that overseer. He was cross, and he thought something rude about Idhri, and his thoughts sort of… I don’t know, spilled over into mine.”

“Braithe!” Morgana said. “I hardly know what to say to that. After the many times I have teased you about reading my mind…”

“I know,” Braithe said. “I thought the same thing. And I wondered if I could have imagined it, but now, remembering, I know I did not.”

“Well,” Morgana said, and she smiled at her surprising little handmaid. “Your gift is developing in amazing ways.”

“I thought perhaps—the magic here—”

“It could be. Or it could be that you have continued to grow in your power just when you needed it. I think sometimes magic answers a demand.”

“Has there ever been anyone else who could—could hear others’ thoughts?”

“We can ask the Blackbird when we see him again, but I would not be surprised if you are the only one. You are unique, as we all are, and your gift is proving to be unique also.”

“It may disappear when we leave the White City.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps this is your time, just as you said.”

“I will have to think about it.”

“Of course.”

“And now—you have something to tell me. Something important.”

“I do. You had better sit. It has been a long day.”

Braithe made no argument. With a tiny groan of weariness, she settled herself on the edge of Morgana’s bed. Morgana said, “I found a pond today.” Braithe listened with her lips a little apart, her eyes glistening with reflected candlelight. “A reflecting pool, at the very outskirts of the city. It was perfect for scrying. Smooth as glass, with a dark bottom. I think perhaps our enemies have been using the magic of the city as a weapon against me, but that far from the city center, they are weaker.”

“Did you find them?”

“Our perpetrators? No. When I looked for them, it was the same as before—the city, the council chamber. They have hidden themselves well.”

“What then?” Morgana hesitated, and Braithe said, “I know already this is not good.”

“Yes. Sorry.” Morgana leaned forward and looked into her handmaid’s face. “I saw Camulod. The Blackbird and the boy king, receiving someone, a scout, I think. The sense of bad news was strong. The Blackbird felt me, and he looked up, shaking his head.”

“It will be the Romans.”

“Without doubt.”

“We must hurry. If the war party is going out soon…”

“Yes. We have to find who is interfering, cursing poor Mordred with failure.”

Braithe got to her feet. “I will sleep. And tomorrow, Priestess, I will find the fae who are guilty of this.”

“Once we know, we will go to Emerlyn.”

“Do you think she will help us?”

“I think she wants to help me. I do not understand why.”

“Perhaps,” Braithe said, with a flash of her old sparkle, “I will listen to her thoughts.”

“Perhaps, brat,” Morgana said. “Perhaps you will do exactly that.”