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  Something was wrong. There were the itch of straw on his cheek and the hard wood biting into his back, but something else felt absolutely out of place. Derek pushed up to sit and looked around. Turning his head, he waned. Sacha was missing.

  He jumped on his feet instantly awake, looking for the traces of a fight. There was nothing. She was simply gone. He cursed loudly. The little she-devil had finally decided to leave him behind! Another bunch of colourful epithets escaped him.

  Derek buckled his scabbard and slid rather than climbed down the ladder. How did she manage to go without waking him? He rushed outside and the rising sun blinded him.

  The young man shadowed his eyes with one hand, the other automatically setting on the hilt of his sword. The crude light failed to show settling dust or some clue of her direction. She was long gone… He swore again. Why could not she be reasonable? How could he protect her if she took off like this? Was she so foolish she would follow some random dream, vision, or whatever it was? The idea left a mark in his mind.

  Her brother being tended by some maiden in the mythic Caer Lon was as real as unicorns and fairies. Once he found her, he was going to seize her up and galloped back to Haven with her. He would knock her out if he had to. He would convince her father to jail her. He would put her in the stocks dressed only with a potato sack. He would…

  “Derek!”

  He whirled on his heels so fast he nearly lost his footing. Her brilliant smile half eclipsed the rising sun, infuriating him even more. Blind with a ferocious need to kill her, Derek charged toward the young woman. He grabbed her arms in an iron clasp. Her grin disappeared while shock bolted in her luminous eyes.

  “You’re hurting me…”

  His grip tightened for a second before he mastered his fury and let go. She immediately took one step back. Derek barked:

  “Where the hell were you?!”

  Sacha massaged her painful upper arms and walked away swiftly, without answering. Four steps and the prince blocked her way, towering over her with his entire frame. Her forehead barely reached his chin. Unimpressed, Sacha stood her ground. He nearly lost his temper and seized her again. Sensing his storming mood, she scowled defiantly, doing her best to compensate for the difference of height with a haughty glacial gaze.

  His wrath evaporated slowly. She looked like a pouting child. She was safe...

  Derek held one hand up to brush her offended limb and she tensed. His arm fell back to his side.

  “I did not mean to hurt you. I woke up and you were nowhere to be seen…”

  This was the closest to an apology he was willing to give. Sacha shoved the plate of bread and cheese she was still holding into his stomach.

  “I suggest that next time you check the horses before you fret.”

  The tip of his ears grew embarrassingly hot. He had not thought of the horses. Derek turned toward the opened door. Sure enough, their mounts were peacefully chewing hay, and he could spot their saddles in the corner where he had stored them the previous evening.

  She had vanished and he had imagined the worst because… Because she was Sacha and her sole purpose in this life was to annoy him to no end; driving him crazy was just a side benefit. Derek groaned.

  “Well I suggest that next time, you wake me up instead of disappearing like that. Where were you anyway?”

  The young woman snorted and started toward the barn. Derek followed, putting the plate aside.

  “I wanted to thank the farmer and his wife for their hospitality and I asked where we can find a proper library.”

  “A library?”

  She was demented. Too little sleep and too much ale had finally pushed her over the edge. He was taking her back to her father. Now. Period.

  Sacha was looking at him as if he were slow, her impatience barely contained.

  “Yes, Derek, a library: you must have heard about it. It is a place stocked with books and charts. Scholars use them for knowledge.”

  She ignored his growl and went on:

  “You may not know where Caer Lon is, but I will find out.”

  The way she hammered the first word, she could have poked at him in the chest with her finger. It felt like it.

  “Sacha…”

  He barely recognized his voice in the low defeated tone. She picked up her saddle but waddled under the load. It was too heavy for her to even think about reaching the back of her horse but she clenched her teeth and tried anyway. She never gave up and that he admired, even if her stubbornness irritated him senseless. Derek took the saddle off her hands to put it into place effortlessly before he tended to his own stallion. Sacha continued her explanation with only a short nod to acknowledge his gallantry.

  “We have to go to Lann Stefan. The farmer told me the monks at Saint Stephen monastery are known for their scholars.”

  She kept including him in her nonsense. Where we can find… We have to go… She was assuming they were together in this, but she refused to listen to him if his words were not to her liking; as always…

  Derek took a deep breath and reviewed his options quickly. One: he could go with her and try to convince her it was a wild goose chase. Two: he could go the right direction and worry about her safety all the way. Three: he could go back to Haven and explain to her father he had let her on her own. Four: he could grab her, tie her up across his saddle, and take her home.

  Sacha had climbed on her horse and was looking at him, visibly waiting. He sighed.

  “Fine. But next time, you will wake me up.” He too could use words to make someone feel small. “I am serious Sacha; other places will not be as safe as this one.”

  She smiled beautifully. Derek couldn’t help but return it. Lann Stefan was east, after all. Sacha pursed her lips, satisfied she had won this battle.

  “You snore…”

  “I do not!”

  The little witch had already kicked her mount into a trot. Derek gritted his teeth and followed, forgetting about breakfast. Option four had its appeal; definitely.

  Chapter 6

  The servant put the tray on the table, eyes glued to the floor, before he retreated as quickly as he could into a corner.

  This one would be gone in a week, he thought; ten days at most. Twice as clumsy as the slaves he bought in Londinium, and just as worthless. Those puppets were pitiful. His cup was only half full, and yet it was a miracle the wine had not spilled on the food. The man snapped his fingers and the boy yelped in terror, jumping forward to fill his goblet before he fled back to his corner. Their submission was disgusting.

  He glanced at the boy’s reflection in the cup and played with it, back and forth, making the image move sideways. A hiccup echoed behind him, nearly a sob, as the meagre body followed the impossible movements the sorcerer gave to its image on the cup, twisting at impossible angles. Finally tired of his game, the man crushed the goblet in his massive hand. A gasp of pain, followed by the muffled sound of boneless members hitting the ground answered the man’s impatient grimace. Pitiful puppets. This one had lasted less than a week, after all.

  Wolfryth negligently threw his now useless cup toward the crushed body. He stood up and the room suddenly felt smaller. Standing near the fireplace, the man’s large shoulders almost hid half of the mantel. His grey hairs were pulled back with a leather bind. His yellow eyes gleamed dangerously under the light from the flames, adding to the impression of savagery. The sorcerer touched the fine line that ran from his left temple to his chin, a present from William Pendragon, so many years ago. Yesterday.

  The man had been skilled with a sword, and sustained by survival instincts. He had broken him like dried wood nonetheless. No man-made blade could be a match for his magic.

  He laughed and the sound rolled unpleasantly in the empty room. He had killed one Pendragon and now he needed one. How ironic.

  Another twist of his hand, and the corpse disappeared, leaving only empty clothes on the floor. He hated to wait. Two days ago, he had used a simple spell of transportation t
o hurl her cousin back to the Seer, and she was yet to show up. He watched her dreams long enough to know her heart’s desires. And what women wanted… She would come, along with Pendragon’s offspring sniffing after her skirts like a well-trained dog.

  The fire roared to mirror his growing irritation. He was the greatest wizard alive. He had mastered Air and Fire. Water obeyed when he commanded. No one for generations had controlled three of the Powers, and he needed a child, barely old to shave, to reach the ultimate one!

  The man clenched his fist and the flames reduced to the size of a candle flick. Patience… The Seer would bring him the blood of the Dragon soon. Patience…

  “Father?”

  Wolfryth released his grasp on the fire and it burned normally again.

  The young woman stepped swiftly into the room, her blond hair flying around her. Reproach shadowed her angelic face briefly when she noticed the piled clothes in the corner. Her voice transpired nothing but boredom when she approached him.

  “You did it again… How can I hope to bring up satisfying staff if you dismiss them so often?”

  “This one was beyond your teaching.”

  She sulked.

  “I suppose.”

  Then her smile reappeared. Her golden eyes shone in childish pleasure.

  “I have good news, however. Elwyn is awake and he will be up very soon. I like him. He is so cute!”

  “I am delighted to hear you like your present. But you have to be careful, my child. He is very powerful.”

  “Oh, he can do me no harm… I gave him citraurantia.”

  Wolfryth laughed again. The plant would block the young man's powers. His magic would still be here, sleeping within him, but out of his reach.

  “Very well, my crafty little fox. Enjoy his company, but do not hold him too dear; his utility will eventually come to an end.”

  The fire blazed again, and its light accentuated the resemblance between the sorcerer and a wild animal.

  oOo

  Jeffrey, the Court physician, patted Sebastian on the shoulder, probably the only place of his body that was not covered with bandages. It hurt nonetheless. This time, the examination had been less painful, thanks to Ylianor’s decoctions, but he was glad it was over.

  He felt like he had been trampled by a hoard of furious boars, then thrown into a ravine. Even wincing was painful, let alone breathing. His head felt so heavy on his neck he was sure it would have fallen sideways if the pillows had not maintained it in place.

  The young man clenched his jaw to retain a moan and settled for a quick nod to the old man who bowed and exited the room, probably to give his report back to his uncle.

  Geraint had not come back to ask if he remembered something else about the attack or the place he had been taken. Sebastian wished he had more to tell him. Truth was, he was not sure he had left the battlefield at all before waking up in his bed. Everything was so confused…

  A light knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

  “Come in.”

  A young girl he thought he had seen sometimes around Sacha came in, holding a tray.

  “Lady Ylianor said you would be hungry, Sir.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  He could do with some food, even if the idea of opening his mouth to chew and swallowing was not that appealing, especially after the cold sweat the simple fact of straightening up had brought. Not to mention the ache.

  “Thank you... Pardon me I do not remember your name.”

  “I am Agnes, my Lord. I serve the Lady Sacha.”

  “Well Agnes you will thank my cousin for sparing your services so you could bring me some food.”

  Her sudden blush surprised him. Generally, servants were at ease with him, because he was easy going and polite; and to his limited experience, maid girls did not blush that easily. Sebastian pushed up a little more on his cushions. The effort tore a groan from his throat. The maid instantly put her tray down on the table and rushed to help him up.

  “Thank you.”

  She smiled and Sebastian appreciated her gentleness as she helped him up on the pillows. He equally noticed something more disturbing. He had been in the castle for nearly two days, and no one had visited him except Geraint, Ylianor, and the physician.

  “Agnes, where are my cousin and Prince Derek?”

  “They are about their business, my lord.”

  Jeffrey could be pretty insistent when he wanted his patients to rest, but Derek and Sacha had never obeyed before. Sebastian narrowed his dark eyes on her, and the girl’s already flushed skin turned a deeper shade of pink.

  “They… They are on a trip.”

  A trip? Right after this attack? Not likely.

  “Where did they go? I am surprised my uncle authorized them to go anywhere, even with a full cohort of knights to escort them.”

  Agnes was fidgeting with the lace of her apron, visibly ill at ease. Sebastian tried to keep his tone calm in order not to scare the girl away. Despite his efforts, worry started to tighten his throat.

  “Agnes? I asked you a question. Where did the Lady Sacha and Prince Derek go?”

  “I… I do not know, my lord. My lady did not say. She asked me to prepare their horses and some goods for three days and she went with the prince before dawn right after they found you… Please, My lord, I just followed her orders…”

  She was on the verge of crying. No doubt his uncle had questioned her already, and probably less gently.

  Sebastian closed his eyes. Sacha and Derek had gone to Elwyn’s rescue. It could be only that. No wonder Ylianor seemed so worried and his uncle looked like he was ready to murder someone.

  Oh, Sacha, what did you do…?

  It was her plan, of course it was. Derek could be stubborn but he was not reckless. Or rather, he would have gone alone, especially if to leave in the middle of the night. It had to be Sacha, who cornered Derek into following her. He wondered if his friend had caught her while she was tiptoeing out, or if she had walked straight into his chambers to harangue him.

  Sebastian could just picture the scene in his mind: Sacha stamping her foot and pouting while Derek looked at her with that stern expression he saved just for her. As if the prince were going to let her go alone… Maybe she had called him ‘a good little soldier’, ‘a docile sheep’ or another one of her favourite epithets, so he could not ignore the bait. He never resisted when she provoked him.

  The young man wondered if instead of insulting him, Sacha had tried to charm him. Derek would dive after her without a second thought if she did. Or he would have run the other way as fast as possible. Whatever the case, Sebastian would have paid a fortune to see the scene.

  The girl was still fixing him nervously, her velvet eyes widened in fear. Sebastian offered the best smile he could muster. With a split lip and bruises all over his face, it probably looked like the worst grimace she had ever seen. Indeed he had paid dearly to have them paired up. He sighed.

  “What is done is done, isn’t it? Didn’t you say something about food?”

  She jumped at the reminder, and quickly put the tray on his lap. Sebastian peered at the soup with a groan. Knowing both his cousin's and his friend's usual behaviour around each other, he doubted the greater risk for them came from their enemy, whoever that was.

  Chapter 7

  Lann Stefan was barely more than a village. But compared to Haven’s castle and its dozen houses, it felt like a small city to Sacha.

  With spring, merchants had started to travel again, and the coming May Day festivities were bringing a colourful crowd out to venture happily around the shops and bargain the prices with the tenants.

  Derek had decided they were to stop at an inn to bathe and rest before they looked for the monastery. He doubted a day was going to be enough to find anything, even with the help of the monk-librarian. For once, Sacha had agreed with him.

  Her clothes were stiff and itched from an entire day on horseback and a night in the hayloft. In addition, Sacha was
in no hurry to repeat their performance of the morning. Her horse made a step aside and she had to pull on her reins to restrain it. The movement enhanced the sting in her sore arms. She was pretty sure she would sustain a bruise in the morning. She had not expected him to react so violently. Derek was certainly prompt to react and tempest, but with her he had always kept a strict rein on physical expressions of his temper, settling for arrogant retorts or mocking remarks.

  It amazed her to know she could shatter his control like that. It made her feel… powerful. The idea of possessing that kind of influence over a man like Derek intrigued her, though she wasn’t sure she liked it. Much.

  Sacha glanced at her companion. Derek was riding beside her, his posture almost casual. She noticed he had only one hand on his reins; the other rested on his thigh, inches away from his blade. His blue eyes were scanning the crowd while his face was blank. Nothing in his attitude indicated he too was fazed with the stony road or the numbers of two story buildings. He looked like the known sleepy cat, which waited for some heedless mouse to come a little too close. The young woman shivered involuntary. Those were the moments that truly reminded her that Derek was lethal, more than his random outbursts of rage.

  A bell rang to announce Terce. She pushed up on her stirrups looking both ways for the church. Derek’s stern voice reminded her about discretion and she sighed before settling back on her saddle.

  Some minutes later, Derek stopped his mount in front of a building larger than the rest.

  “We will stay here.”

  A sign hung above the door. A big animal with twisted tusks was painted on the wood panel to announce the establishment’s name: ‘The Wild Boar’. Derek jumped down. Sacha didn’t wait to dismount, ignoring his offered hand. The prince said nothing and gestured a servant to pick up their bags.

  When he stepped forward to push the door and enter in front of her, Sacha had more than enough with his patronizing.

  “You have more experience of taverns than I do. Please lead the way.”

  Derek frowned, visibly displeased by her comment. Shrugging his shoulders, he preceded her inside.