“Yes.” Lancelot looked at her. Understanding crashed down on Vera, and it must have shown on her face. He nodded as he said, “Viviane’s my mother.”
“What?” she cried. “That’s a massive fucking thing to not tell me!”
Otto casually wiped at his mouth, though Vera saw the mirth in his eyes and knew he was trying to conceal a laugh at her outburst. Lancelot looked guilty, but Arthur didn’t, and it incensed Vera.
“Who all knows?” she demanded.
“Only the people in this room,” Arthur said. “That’s it.”
She turned to Lancelot. “So, you were in Camelot together, and no one knew? You—”
“Pretended to be strangers,” Lancelot said. “No one could know. It’s the same sort of secretive mage bullshit we’re reckoning with now.” He rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers irritably against the wooden tabletop.
“To protect you and her both,” Otto said pointedly, inclining his head toward Lancelot, whose expression softened at the reminder. Otto turned to Vera. “That’s how Viviane found Arthur. She and Lancelot lived down the road, and these two grew up wreaking havoc together. Viviane was the one who recognized Arthur’s call to the throne—at far too young an age, I might add. I was none too pleased with that.” Though his words hinted at annoyance, Otto’s eyes glimmered as he remembered.
Vera’s fire faded as the whole truth of it hit her. “Your mother is alive,” she said, turning to Lancelot.
He smiled sadly. “Yes. My mother, the mage who tried to kill you, is alive.” He turned to Arthur. “Even though she was supposedly executed by the mages. That’s clearly not the case. We’ve got more than a bit of a problem with our mages, sire. And now there’s this Mordred. He has Gawain’s instrument, and he has Gawain. That damn fool will never give them the power to use it. Do you know the kind of torture Mordred will put him through?”
He looked at Vera, lost for a moment in his turmoil. She reached for his hand beneath the table. “We’ll find him,” she said. “You’ll find him.”
“How?” Lancelot asked. Hopelessness mired his face.
“There must be something we can do! We have to tell Merlin,” Vera said, her voice rising. “He’ll think you’re dead, Arthur. And he has to know that Mordred has Gawain.”
She stopped. It was all wrong. “But … how could Mordred know about Gawain’s instrument? Gawain only told the council of mages and—”
Oh no. A mage on the council working with Mordred. It was the only explanation. Could the betrayal really run that deep? It was what Merlin had tried to warn her of, wasn’t it?
“Who performed Viviane’s execution?” Otto asked. “Do you know?”
“Merlin,” Arthur said darkly. “It was his duty as her closest collaborator.”
“He would have had a witness with him. Another mage,” Lancelot added. “Which means there is one more of our mages who know the truth of it.”
“And—and they’re the one working with Mordred?” Vera asked.
“I don’t know.” Arthur shook his head. “We have to get back to Camelot. There are refugees there, and if Mordred figures out how to use that instrument against our people, I can’t be sitting by in the countryside.”
Lancelot heaved a sigh. “I knew you were going to say that. We can’t, Arthur.”
“Convince me why we shouldn’t,” Arthur growled.
“Because I know you think Merlin’s not in on this, and you might just be wrong.” Arthur started to protest, but Lancelot raised his voice and spoke over him. “We can conjecture about it all we want, but he lied to you and not about something insignificant. It’s treason, Arthur. Even if you’re not wrong, even if there is some noble secret bullshit reason for sparing my mother, we can’t trust him. I don’t know why I’m saying it. You already know this. Plus, there’s another matter.” Lancelot looked at Vera and squeezed her hand. “By all rights, you should be dead. When you’re not, we’re going to have to explain how. I’ve never seen a gift like Guinna’s. They will want it. Our mages. Mordred. All of them.”
Arthur nodded grimly. “I never should have relied so heavily on the mages. I thought I was building a better world, not positioning myself as a high-stakes puppet.”
If Merlin and his witness kept Viviane alive, there must be a reason for it. They all agreed on one action they could take: they needed to find Viviane, to get answers and reclaim some power in the game. The kingdom was not fine, and they didn’t know who they could trust outside of one another.
“What now?” Vera asked. “How do we find her?”
It left them at a dead end. Lancelot angrily flung his orb on the table. He glared at it as it rolled to a stop, wobbling in place before changing direction. It spun one-half turn to the left and was still again. Lancelot dropped his forehead onto the table. They sat in defeated silence for a few moments before Lancelot jolted upright with wide eyes and snatched his orb in both hands.
Vera put a hand on his arm. “What are you—”
“Shut up,” Lancelot snapped as he jerked away. “Sorry. But shut up a second.” He closed his eyes. He spun the light in his hands, stopped, and held it in the new position. He repeated the action two more times.
He laughed. “Holy shit,” Lancelot said as he opened his eyes. “There’s more energy on one side of the orb. No matter how I spin it, it … hums on my left hand. Westward.”
