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I looked back at Lancelet. “Merlin knew how to use the arch? How?”
Lancelet nodded slowly. “She’s more powerful than she lets on, Morgan. She can scry, too, though very few people know she has the gift. Sir Ector was afraid something had happened to you. He told her about...” She looked over at Draven and cleared her throat.
He rolled his eyes. “Your big bad guard?”
I blushed. “It’s all right, he knows that we know. Aren’t you wondering where Whitehorn is?”
I stole a glance at Draven. He sat by the fireside, his strong hands clasped together as he looked into the flames. Even in the darkness, his features stood out to me–the hard edge of his jaw, the familiar slant of his lips. He was rough, sweaty, and yes, tinged with a hint of wickedness. But when the fenrir had leapt onto my back, Draven had been there in a heartbeat.
Somewhere along the way, Draven had stopped being the most frightening thing that could happen to me. Oh, he was terrifying in his own way, of course. He was a powerful, lethal man. But I had stopped worrying about him turning that deadly power on me.
Lancelet’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t even thought of him to be honest. Where is he?”
“He’s dead.” I ran a hand over my face, abruptly beset with weariness. “It’s a long story. Arthur had instructed Whitehorn to have me increase my medicine dose. I was becoming ill, but Whitehorn wanted me to follow the king’s orders. No matter what.”
“She wasn’t just ill, she was dying,” Draven interjected. “Whitehorn didn’t give a damn.”
“So you killed him.” Lancelet smirked. “Not sure this would make Sir Ector feel better or worse.”
“Whitehorn insisted I keep taking medicine even though it was leaving me as feeble as an infant,” I tried to explain. “Draven said the opposite. He saw what it was doing to me.”
I felt a surge of gratitude and met his eyes, then immediately wished I hadn’t. They were deep pools of emerald and as they settled on mine, I felt as though he could see into my very soul. I glanced away quickly.
“I see,” Lancelet was saying. “Well, that explains what Merlin said.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“She scried for us. Looked into a basin of water and somehow, she saw you. She said you were all right, thathewas keeping you safe. That Whitehorn was gone, but that we weren’t to worry.” Lancelet gave a shaky grin. “Sir Ector wasn’t convinced, of course, but I believed her. You should have seen Merlin’s face. She’d been just as worried, but once she looked into that basin, her face changed and she became so calm. Whatever she’d seen, she believed it was the truth. And so, so did I.”
“I was never sure what to make of Merlin,” I admitted. Now I wondered what would have happened if I had confided in her more. If I had told her about the medicine long ago. Would she have insisted I stop taking it? I couldn’t see that going well. It might have ended in a terrible confrontation between her and Arthur.
“Neither was I. I thought she was power hungry. That she wanted to be close to Arthur like Agravaine did. But that’s not it. I think she held out hope that she could influence your brother, yes. But for the good.” Lancelet rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Well, now that hope is gone.”
“We ought to get some rest. We should put in a full day tomorrow,” Draven announced, catching her gesture and rising to his feet.
“Wait.” Lancelet’s voice was sharp. “I’m not finished.” She met my eyes. “When Arthur had Merlin whipped, it only spurred her to defy him more, Morgan. Why do you think she sent me?” She looked around the campfire, her eyes resting briefly on each of us. “Do they all know? What it is that you seek?”
I stared. “What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t,” Draven said pointedly, nodding to Vesper. “Perhaps this would be better kept for another time.”
Vesper’s face shifted into a roguish grin. “But I’m ever so curious. Don’t send me off to bed like a naughty child. I’ll be good, I promise.”
I hesitated. “He’s followed us this far. He’s saved our lives more than once.”
Draven frowned. “Has he?”
“He just fought alongside you against those... things,” I reminded him.
Draven shrugged. “Like anyone would to save their own skin.”
“Stop. Enough.” I looked at Vesper. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. “I trust him. Speak freely, Lancelet.”
She shot Vesper a wary look but nodded. “Very well. I speak of the sword. I speak of Excalibur. You must not return with it. You must not give it to Arthur.”
There was silence around the campfire.
“What do you mean?” I said slowly. “That’s the very reason I’m here, doing all of this.”
