“Exeter.”
Now it was Merlin who stood and moved next to Arthur. Doubt wrinkled the mage’s brow. He’d just been in Exeter, hadn’t he?
“What’s happened?” he said.
“I—I’m not sure what’s gone wrong, but—”
“The magic?” Merlin asked sharply.
“Yes. The water continues to flow, but now it’s flooding, and we’ve no way to stop it.”
“I put barriers in place,” Merlin said to Arthur. “They must not have held.”
“And word is out?” Arthur asked the soldier.
He swallowed heavily. “It is. Even here in town, everyone’s saying that the harvest can’t be saved.”
“Is that true?” Arthur said.
The soldier hesitated.
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Marcus.”
“Marcus, your job is not to deliver good news to me,” Arthur said. “I need the truth, and I need it immediately.”
“Yes, sire,” Marcus said with more confidence. “It’s not all lost, but we must act now. We need men to salvage what’s left, and we need magic to fix the problem. We need it fast—as soon as possible.”
“Understood,” Arthur said.
“Your Majesty, I can leave immediately and take a unit of men with me,” Lancelot offered.
“No,” Arthur said. “I want you and Percival to remain in Camelot. Percival, find Sir Bors. Tell him to gather his unit and make to leave. Marcus will bring their orders to the armory. Come directly back here. We have more to discuss.”
“Yes, sire,” Percival jumped into action, dashing from the room without delay. Arthur looked to Merlin without a word. He nodded gravely.
“I’ll leave straight away.” Merlin glanced at Vera as he spoke. The light of hope dimmed in his eyes, a candle flickering in the wind seconds before its suffocated.
Arthur next addressed the two stunned citizen representatives, a man around Vera’s age and an older woman with her silver hair wrapped in a bun and perched atop her head like a bird’s nest. “Thank you for your service today. You’ve been privy to especially delicate information. I trust your discretion as you return to your homes.”
“I’d say the chances of discretion are slim,” Lancelot said as soon as the door closed behind the two townsfolk. He picked up his chair in one hand and gestured to Matilda’s. “May I?”
She stood, and he moved both into a semi-circle next to Vera and Arthur’s seats. She was surprised when Lancelot took the chair next to hers, leaving Matilda the one by Arthur rather than the other way around. They could all see one another now.
“We’re waiting for Percival?” Lancelot asked Arthur. He nodded distractedly and rubbed at his chin.
Lancelot was deep in thought, too. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “What was it you said?” he asked abruptly. His eyes were twinkling as he set them on Vera. “Horse shit on your face …” he said, relishing the shape of the words. “You truly said that to Wulfstan?”
Vera glanced around at each of them. “Yes.”
Lancelot grinned. He held his hand up expectantly for a high five. Matilda and Arthur watched in bewilderment as they slapped palms, Lancelot enthusiastically and Vera reluctantly.
“But I didn’t know who he was,” she said.
“Well, I’ll tell you. He is a self-important prat and a colossal ass with too much money and far too much economic influence. So, there is actually no one in this realm who could get away with what you did except for you—and maybe Arthur, but he’d never,” he added dismissively. “I didn’t think I could love you more, but here we are.” He rocked back in his seat as if he had not just told Vera that he loved her and done so in front of her husband and chambermaid. Arthur had heard all this, but he remained focused on the closed door on the other end of the hall.
“Matilda,” Lancelot continued, “I’ll be jealous for the rest of my days that you got to hear that happen in person.”
