Page 21 of Beneath Swan Lake (Deadly Endings #2)

I had serious doubts about not only going into Camelot – the heart of enemy territory – but also about speaking with someone close to Arthur the Lunatic. But Cyrus promised me that Morgan isn’t the monster she’s made out to be, and at this point we don’t have many options for getting answers about the movement through Sherwood.

Zarev made me promise that if my once faithful feline does betray us, that I’ll let him throw me into the shadows to escape alive. I wanted a promise in return that he would do the same, but it’s harder to get Zarev to agree to things like that. I’m hoping we put our faith in the right person and that Cyrus isn’t leading us astray.

“It’s a timepiece,” she says, staring down with wide eyes at the device I handed over.

I eye the woman across from us, standing on the outer walls of the castle. This idea isn’t what I had in mind when we crossed over into Camelot territory, but at that point in time it was just Zarev and me.

The last few days drastically changed things. We were supposed to be in and out on our own to get some information on Arthur’s plans, and all we wanted to do was lurk in the shadows. Of course getting caught changed things, and although things are moving a bit slower I can’t say that I’m against it now. We’re getting new contacts and new information, two things that wouldn’t be possible without a trustworthy ally.

“They can see that, Morgan,” Cyrus says, his multi-color tail flicking in the breeze. He doesn’t masquerade himself out here like he did in Tressa, and seeing him walking around as a man is a mindtrip.

Zarev’s fingers ghost down my arm, and I feel the tension in his hand when it gently closes over mine. “So what the hell does it do?”

“Language,” Morgan says, her iridescent eyes looking up from the device. That timepiece might be the strangest thing we’re carrying around with us, but I’m still surprised Zarev agreed to tell Cyrus the truth. Without that leap of faith, we wouldn’t be here speaking to Morgan le Fay right now.

“Well, aren’t the two of you cozy?”

Zarev drags us into the shadows at the sound of the voice, and my hands heat in response to the sound of a threat. The voice itself isn’t threatening, but the idea that we’ve been caught after barely a day of travel is.

It takes me a moment to place what I’m seeing. Cheshie - well, Cyrus - looks completely different in his human form. That body has no business hiding behind the chubby physique of my former palace cat, and his split-color pink and purple ears stick out boldly from the top of his head, a contrast to his raven-black hair. But those unnatural eyes that always had me questioning my cat blink at us, even though I can feel the pull of the shadows. We should be out of sight.

He laughs, clapping his hands together. “Ha! I can scare a Reaper. Bet you didn’t see that coming, Zarev.”

Zarev drops the shadows at that, a sneer pulling at his lip. “Cat.”

Cyrus gives him a wide grin. “Reaper.”

They stare at each other, neither one flinching. Neither seems particularly concerned with attacking either, and I slowly lower my hands. I don’t know if I could fight my cat without feeling heavy guilt, but he looks like fighting is the last thing on his mind as he lounges back against a tree.

The silence blankets all three of us, and I swivel my gaze back and forth between the two of them. They don’t say a word, and it feels like I’m on the outside of a silent conversation.

After a moment Cyrus’ head cocks to one side, his ears twitching. Then that grin widens, and his tail flicks excitedly behind him. “You have that timepiece from the rabbit, don’t you?”

I frown, staring intently at Cyrus as my hand comes up to clutch the chain. I completely forgot about it around my neck, leaving it in plain view. “What?”

Cyrus laughs, reaching out to grab the device. Zarev smacks his arm away with a glare, leaving Cyrus to huff. “Don’t be that way, Reaper. I just want to see.”

“And what does it do?” Zarev asks, narrowing his eyes.

Gleefully, Cyrus wiggled his fingers. We exchange a look before I tug off the timepiece, and Zarev, always a tiny bit paranoid, hands it over. I half expected him to run off once he got his fingers around it, but instead Cyrus crouched then sat on the ground, dropping to his butt to open his legs up and drop the timepiece into the dirt.

“I don’t know too much about them,” Cyrus continues, inspecting the device. Even the chain is odd, and he runs his long-nailed fingers over it a couple times. “But Theo said there are many.”

“So you’re wasting our time?” Zarev asks dryly. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

Cyrus grins then, turning his peculiar eyes to me. “Watching. To see when the princess found her way to her other half.”

“You don’t know what it does?” Morgan says, her lips twitching like she wants to smile at how insane that sounds. She draws me out of the memory, her strange eyes completely focused on the timepiece. “You’re just carrying the thing around for fun?”

“A… friend,” I interrupt, wincing at the word, “gave it to us with his last breath.”

Morgan looks at us skeptically. She’s a beautiful woman, and I can see how she’s related to Arthur. Her hair is a deeper red than his, and she has softer features than he does. But her small noise and doe-like eyes give the illusion that she isn’t dangerous, and I think that’s an utter lie.

“A friend,” she mimics, lifting a brow. “Quite a friend to have one of the timepieces from Wonderland.”

I exchange a glance with Zarev, my interest growing. “How do you know what it is?”

Morgan chuckles, looking around. We aren’t inside the castle, because Cyrus claims it's too dangerous to slip in, even with the shadows. I’m starting to think those unique cat eyes of his let him see more than he lets on. “Camelot is involved in a great many things. Things I wish Arthur would leave as they are. He plays games with the wrong kinds of men.”

“How?” Zarev presses, and Morgan just shakes her head at him.

“We learn best from others,” Morgan explains, turning the timepiece over in her palms. “These once timed the Mad Queen's hunts.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, I look over at Zarev. He told me that the four Hell Brothers died beneath stones during the first Mad Hunt. “She timed them?”

Morgan shoots me a look before turning her attention back to the device. “Yes. I believe she timed them all.” Her eyes drift back to Zarev, and their gazes hold for several moments. “There was probably a man with tufts of hair who sent you all off for the hunt. Maybe he blew a horn, had something in his hands…”

Her voice trails off, and it takes a moment for Zarev to respond. “Yes.”

She nods. “White rabbits. They were citizens in Wonderland who displeased her so she would make them time the hunts. Sometimes their own. When the clock stopped, so did the hunt. It kept her madness from driving her further into insanity. She needed the clockwork to chime, indicating the hunt was over. She needed the reminders.”

Zarev cuts in before I can say anything. “She hunted the timekeepers?”

“Of course. The Queen isn’t particular about who she slays. If there was no one in particular to hunt at the time, or someone displeased her, she would have the timekeepers time their own deaths. It’s a bit gruesome if you ask me.”

I wince, thinking of the Reapers’ horrible, tortured deaths. “So why did she keep the time?”

Morgan folds her hands over the device, peering around at the three of us. “Have you met the Queen personally?”

I nod, but it’s Zarev who fills in the blanks. “When the wall around Tressa fell.”

“Ah.” She purses her lips, and I wonder what she thinks of that information. Sneaking this close to the castle and stepping out of the shadows is a risk we might regret taking, but Morgan is a sorceress and librarian who doesn’t have the ability to see into the shadows like I do. When we arrived, we tested the theory and she asked Cyrus where we were.

It’s possible she’s lying about her abilities, but I’m not interested in pressing the issue. I want the intel so we can get out of Camelot. We’re deeper into the kingdom than I’m comfortable with, and we haven’t risked using a seeing stone since Zarev’s last chat with Raymundo. Walking through the kingdom to dine and blend in was bad enough, but we couldn’t risk going into Morgan’s private quarters and possibly being ambushed if she turned on us.

“The timepieces were a prison in their own right,” Morgan goes on, drawing my attention back. “She gave them to her white rabbits as she called them. I think since that time the poor souls appointed to this task were dubbed the Unluckies. See, the point of the timepiece is to control the Mad Queen’s mayhem. It forces her to remember to rule her kingdom around her love of murder. But if her bloodlust isn’t sated before she returns to court and tries to rule the lands, everything she has to deal with turns rather bloody. So instead, she has the Unluckies. If the timepiece rings and the prey escapes, she slaughters whoever the timekeeper is. Sometimes she’ll just do it because she’s in a mood, and she ends up killing both the prey and the Unlucky.”

I squirm uncomfortably at that. It’s like playing with fire, except you get burned no matter what happens.

“So why did one of the Unluckies give us that in Tressa?” Zarev asks, getting right back to the point. I glance at Cyrus but his face gives nothing away. If he’s from Wonderland, did he already know that? Or has he been gone from Wonderland for so long that this is a new name that he’s being acquainted with?

Somehow, I don’t buy that Cyrus is as in the dark as he wants us to believe. He’s feigned knowledge despite parading around the palace for years, yet he hasn’t said much about the Queen.

Zarev asked him more than once about being a spy while we waited for the right time to see Morgan. I still don’t think my Reaper trusts him, but for now he’s not pushing the issue.

Morgan taps the face of the clock, turning it back to us. “The timer seems to still be going.”

“That’s impossible,” Zarev replies with a scoff. “The hunts last a day, maybe. There’s no way that it’s not gone off yet after all this time.”

“Magic allows many things,” Morgan replies, her eyes sparkling for reasons I can’t fathom. “Including warping and altering time. The timepiece is set for a date, but I don’t know what. The Mad Queen is the one who enchants them. This one ticks without a hand moving, but you can still hear the tick-tock if you listen. I don’t know how long it has.”

Frowning, I stare at the device. It’s a strange looking thing, not like anything my parents allowed me to see in the tower. I kept track of the time by the rise and set of the sun. Unless they were using my gift, it’s not like I had much else going on to deal with. But Zarev and Cyrus don’t seem as confused as I feel, and Zarev snatches the device from her hand when Cyrus steps forward.

“I suppose that part is a mystery,” he grumbles.

Morgan nods, pulling back from the three of us. When she turns her long hair catches the breeze, blowing like a wave of red against the castle wall. Cyrus’ ears twitch, and Zarev tenses beside me .

“Someone is coming,” she hisses. “The guards are set to switch out soon. I must go.”

“Before you go,” Cyrus says, stepping closer. “There’s one other favor I must ask of you.”

Her jaw ticks in the shadows of the castle, and I think for a moment she’ll deny him. Instead she holds out her hand to him, and I swear there’s a golden dusting on her palm. It kind of reminds me of the pixie dust Zarev carries, but it’s not like the gold from my hands. This is entirely different. Softer, like a haze instead of pure gold. “And what is that, my sweet kitty?”

I do a double take, glancing at Zarev who looks to be struggling between a snort and utter terror at the endearment. Cyrus claimed to know someone who knew about the timepieces, but he never mentioned any sort of affection. Morgan almost sounds fond of him. He nods towards me. “The Princess here wants information on a long lost sister. I know she’s been searching around for answers about a girl Midas discarded long ago.”

Morgan’s eyes flash, and her attention turns to me. “Your parents never told you?”

“Told me what?” I ask, my chest tightening. Do I even want to know the harsh truth?

There’s a bit of a scrape nearby, and Zarev holds out a hand that Morgan recoils from. “Relax, Sorceress. I’ll bring us into the shadows for a moment until the guards pass. We can’t speak within them as is.”

She hesitates, the sound of steps growing closer, and I truly wonder what Morgan’s status in Camelot is. Is she a prisoner like me or just a royal who prefers her secrets? With a nod she holds out a hand to grip mine, and Cyrus steps forward too. We form a circle and I feel the shadows crawling over us just as a lantern shines above.

“Another night,” a guard says from above.

“Another endless toll,” a second responds, and I wonder what kind of greeting that is. They say no more words, two sets of footsteps moving further apart. Zarev keeps us trapped in the shadows for a few more moments, and perhaps if he trusted Morgan he would move us away from the wall.

I don’t particularly think that Morgan trusts him either. But the surprise in her eyes as she looks around is mirrored in Cyrus’, and when Zarev lets go of mine and Cyrus’ hands I think they share a moment of disappointment that the magic is gone.

Morgan clears her throat. “There’s a rumor, Rapunzel, of a baby who was thrown over the thorned wall that protects Thornton Palace and the village below. Bodies are thrown that direction all the time but this time the baby is thought to have lived. The former Lady of Thornton Palace was a beast, but there are whispers that she flew down from the bell tower that night and saved the young child from certain death.”

I swallow. That rumor is eerily similar to the last story I heard about my sister, and it makes my heart beat a little faster.

“I don’t know exactly what happened to this baby,” she goes on. “And I don’t know if the Lady discarded the child once she brought it to safety. You see, the beasts of the palace are cursed of stone but are supposed to have the strength and durability of gargoyles, if you can believe that. If there’s truth to the legend, the story goes that the baby led a mundane life for eighteen long years before her father got into too much trouble and wound up dead. She attempted to have him saved by the beastly curse, and traded herself in exchange for the spell. But something like that would be impossible, which is why this story belongs with the legends.”

My shoulders droop. It’s a messy tale with gaping holes. I can see why this might be considered unbelievable to many.

“All I know,” Morgan goes on, “is when I go through the library to check our shelves, I sometimes find books traded to us from other Kingdoms. And I do occasionally come across books that make their way across the border or by sea from Thornton to Camelot. And every so often, there are little notes and roses drawn onto the title pages. There’s some sort of bookworm reading the tomes locked away in that palace, and occasionally the secret reader makes notes.”

I cock my head, trying to figure out where this is going.

“Once there was a signature, though I’ve hidden the book since. It was a rhyme really.”

“Get to the point Morgan,” Zarev hisses, and when I shoot him a glare I realize his eyes are darting around the castle walls. A quick look at Cyrus and I realize he’s tense too. We’re running out of time, and the shadows can only hide four people for so long .

“I remember it by heart, Princess. These belltower walls can never tame the wild rose heart of Notre Dame .”

I take a sharp breath. Rose certainly isn’t Rosen, and this feels like the largest of stretches…

But perhaps that message could come from my long lost sister, cast into a wholly different life than I led. “What’s Notre Dame?”

“It’s the palace in Thornton,” Zarev says, grasping my hand, “Before it took on a new name. I’ll tell you more about it soon. We need to leave.”

Morgan nods, stepping away from us. “I fear the words spoken by the guards were code. They sense intruders.”

“And you didn’t tell us, sweets?” Cyrus asks, and I shoot him a glare. He’s largely unhelpful right now.

“You have to leave either way,” Morgan says with a shrug. “And I thought the Princess deserved to hear the end of the Legend of Notre Dame.”

“It’s Thornton Palace now,” Zarev corrects, and from the tone of his voice I think the name mixup bothers him.

“Ah, my mistake. Go now, you three.” She winks, and suddenly that low glow I saw in her hands blossoms to life, and she throws her head back to look towards the sky. For a single moment, the three of us glow in the power she exudes. “A good friend and wizard died by the hands of another very recently. I can feel the loss in my bones. Perhaps in my heartbreak I decided to take on three trespassers, and failed due to my rage.”

That sounds like a clever lie, and Zarev grips my hand tightly before we slide into the shadows. I don’t look away from Morgan as she laughs, pivoting on her heel and marching back towards the palace walls. She looks magnificently powerful.

The things I could learn from a sorceress like her.

As Zarev drags us away from danger, I can’t help but wish that we would stay. Just a little longer. Maybe I could see the note she claims to have in a book someplace.

We didn’t find out much about the influence of Camelot in Sherwood. We got distracted by a sorceress and Cyrus. But as we land in the trees far from the castle, I realize our journey is far from over.

Before I can say anything. Zarev grabs my shoulders and forces me down into the ground. Cyrus throws himself down beside me, and Zarev joins us in the bushes. He must be running low on magic if he’s crouching in the grass instead of hiding us again.

It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness before I register what’s happening. A low thrumming fills the air, not from my ears still ringing from the fast travel, but from the synchronized rhythm of approaching footsteps.

There are soldiers ahead, but it's too dark for me to pick out exactly how many. The lights they carry look like pixie dust shrouded by something, but the light within dances like an unruly flame. That’s not how the pixie dust looks that Zarev carries. These are moving away from us, not towards us.

Away from Camelot.

“Looks like Arthur wants a war,” Cyrus says, his voice barely loud enough for me to hear. I wish I had Zarev’s enhanced hearing at this moment. “Well, I’ll be damned.”