“Perhaps she fled Logres,” I offered carefully. “If she truly pulled the sword, she’d know the danger she was in.” I paused. "She could have escaped to Annwyn."
Arthur’s grip tightened around his goblet. “No one crosses the Standing Stones and lives.” His jaw tensed. “She’s here. She must be. Hiding. In plain sight.”
The doors opened, and Mordred returned with Lioran trailing behind him. The northern knight's expression betrayed confusion—perhaps even wariness—as he took in Arthur's disheveled state and our surroundings. I could only hope he hadn't seen the maidens leaving the chapel, as that was something I had no way of explaining.
Arthur crossed the room in three strides, his urgency so palpable that Lioran actually took a step back.
"Your Majesty," Lioran greeted, though his voice betrayed his uncertainty.
I pushed off the wall and moved between them before Arthur could say something he might not want to. "Sir Lioran, the king seeks information regarding a certain woman—"
"—a woman with magic," Arthur interrupted, his voice sharp. "Water magic, specifically. Like yours."
Lioran's shoulders stiffened. The change was subtle—a barely perceptible shift in his stance—but I'd spent enough years reading opponents in battle to notice. His jaw tightened. His fingers curled slightly at his sides. He appeared to be even more uncomfortable than he was when he'd walked in.
"Water magic?" Lioran repeated. "Your Majesty, I don't understand. What woman?"
Arthur stepped closer, and I resisted the urge to physically restrain him. "I need to know if you've encountered another water mage. Someone with exceptional power. Someone who could—" He stopped himself before I had to. "Someone skilled beyond… ordinary training."
"I have not come across any such woman here," Lioran started.
"No," Arthur nearly interrupted, shaking his head with impatience. "Not here. In the borderlands. Or… anywhere, for that matter."
Lioran frowned, his gaze darting between Arthur and me. "This woman you're searching for—what is her name?"
Arthur shook his head. "I don't know. But her appearance—" He paused, and something almost reverent crossed his features. "She's beautiful. A face you would not forget. Hair the color of moonlight. Silver-white. Violet eyes. Pale skin. Delicate features but… strength beneath them. And her magic—" His voice dropped. "Her magic felt ancient. Pure."
I cleared my throat, interrupting him before he could say anything more. As it was, Lioran was looking at him as if he'd sprouted another head.
"Have you seen any such woman?" I asked the small knight.
Lioran's throat worked as he swallowed. His knuckles whitened where his hands had formed fists at his sides. I was surprised to admit it, but it seemed as if he might actually know something.
"Your Majesty, I..." Lioran began, then stopped. When he spoke again, his voice had steadied, though the tension remained in his frame. "I am sorry, but I have no knowledge of such a woman."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Your magic is remarkably similar to hers. The way you manipulate water, the precision of your control—it's too close to be coincidence."
"Similar magic doesn't mean—"
"—where did you learn it?" Arthur demanded. "Who trained you?"
"I'm self-taught, sire," Lioran replied quickly. "I'm the only water mage I know of from my village. From anywhere in the northern borderlands, truth be told." His jaw tightened. "All the other water mages in those regions... they're gone."
"Gone?" Arthur's voice cracked. "Gone where?"
Lioran cleared his throat and appeared decidedly uncomfortable. "Dead or driven into hiding."
He didn't have to finish the sentence—they were gone owing to the king's stance on outlawing magic. Most likely, they were all dead. The words hung in the air like an accusation, though Lioran's tone remained carefully neutral.
Arthur's expression darkened. His shoulders sagged slightly, the manic energy draining from him as Lioran's words sank in. "Then you know nothing of this woman?"
"I apologize that I do not."
For a long moment, Arthur simply stared at him, perhaps searching for some sign of deception. But Lioran held the king's gaze—steady despite the nervousness I had witnessed moments before.
"You may go," Arthur finally said, his voice hollow.
Lioran bowed, perhaps a bit too quickly, and retreated from the chapel. The door closed behind him with a resonant thud that seemed to echo Arthur's defeat.
