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“And then?” Lancelet demanded, her blue eyes honed in on Draven. “You’ll find her harder to kill now that I’m here.”
Draven was unruffled. “Harder but not impossible? Is that why they sent you? Worried for their precious princess’s safety?”
I cringed. My eyes darted to Vesper. Surely he had heard what Draven said. Surely he would have questions. His hands paused briefly over the knife he was rubbing clean then resumed their work. He did not look up.
I bit my lip. “I’m no one’s precious princess, let me assure you. But what was so urgent that you came after me?” I shook my head in wonderment. “I can’t believe Arthur actually let you leave.”
Lancelet gave a derisive snort. “He didn’t. I was sent by a small contingent of concerned citizens. One that is worried about you and wants you back in Camelot again as soon as possible.”
I raised my brows. “A contingent of concerned citizens? Who exactly? Speak freely, Lancelet. Like it or not, we’re all stuck together out here.”
“Very well. Merlin and Sir Ector organized my departure. With some help from Dame Halyna. Among others,” Lancelet said. “They were able to find out where you were going and then set me on the right path.”
“I still don’t understand how you could have caught up to us,” I said slowly. “When did you leave?”
“About a week after you did. With Merlin’s help, I took a shortcut.” Lancelet’s expression said she did not want to get into it. Because Draven was there? Or because Vesper was listening in from across the campfire? He might look as if he were wrapped up in what he was doing, but I could tell he was listening to what we were saying.
He knew who I really was now. He knew me for a liar.
“By the time I got to Orin’s Gate, the mount I had left Camelot on was dead,” Lancelet went on. “I stopped to purchase another, then pressed on. For the last day or so I thought it was hopeless. That I’d never catch up to you. But then tonight... Well, you were surprisingly easy to pinpoint in the dark.”
“A fenrir attack will do that,” Draven said sourly.
Lancelet nodded. “The screaming horses were hard to miss. And then Haya bolted out in front of me. I knew I was close.”
“You look so tired,” I said softly. “Was the journey hard?”
Lancelot let out a deep breath. “The journey was. Well, it was something.”
“It must have been if you killed your first mount,” Vesper observed from across the fire.
So hewaslistening.
Lancelet glared. “I didn’t kill it. I assure you, that part of things couldn’t be helped.”
“How wonderfully cryptic.” Vesper’s eyes were on his knives which he was polishing to a fine gleam.
Which was just as well for Lancelet was shooting daggers from her eyes. “Is he usually so...?”
“Cocky? Entertaining? Infinitely endearing?” Draven offered. “He won’t leave, so don’t bother trying. He seems quite attached. To one of us, at least.”
I watched them exchange a significant look. Wonderful. Now there would be two of them to gang up on me.
I cleared my throat. “So your fatigue is simply from the journey? Nothing else?”
Lancelet’s expression turned wry. “I’m not the only one who looks different, Morgan.”
I touched my hair, suddenly remembering. “Oh.”
She looked me up and down, taking in my silvered hair, the golden tinge of my skin, the shimmering marks peeking out from under my sleeves. “Yes. ‘Oh.’ Care to explain?”
“I will. Later,” I promised.
“But me first?” She sighed. “Fine. But you won’t get much sleep once I tell you.”
“Tell me what?” My voice was sharp. “What’s going on? Did something happen to Kaye?”
“Kaye is fine. At least... as well as he can be, all things considered.” She met my eyes. “Pendrath is at war.”
