"What happened?" I asked in a small voice, though I already knew the answer because I was the witch in this story. The guards had come for me.
Arthur’s face darkened, eyes fixed on the horizon.
“This supposed witch was just a young girl.”
His voice was steady, but the tension beneath it vibrated like a blade in a sheath.
“I didn't believe her to be a witch and thought nothing of it. Until one day there came word of a squabble in the town. Apparently, this girl had murdered a shopkeeper." Arthur's jawtightened, but mine was tighter. “I sent my guards to investigate, and when they arrested the girl, she managed to escape.”
“Then what happened?”
“The guards followed the girl to her home,” he continued, breathing in deeply. "This is all second-hand, of course, as I wasn't there myself." I nodded, and he continued. "When they arrived, the girl attacked them. Drowned them, as I was told."
I felt anger start to well up within me. That wasn't what had happened at all. The guards had killed my parents before I'd ever attacked them.
"I lost a handful of men that day. Only one escaped—one who had been hiding under the cover of the woods. I suppose his own cowardice served him well that day. He alerted the nearest encampment of guards, and they went after the girl, but they lost her beyond the Standing Stones."
"You said the town burned?"
He looked at me and nodded. "After the death of my men, the other guards in the area took it upon themselves to raise the town to the ground, burning it until there was nothing left. Not on my orders, mind you—but all things that are carried out by my men get attributed back to me."
I breathed in deeply, trying to keep my expression neutral. But inside, I was fuming. How could he speak of this in such casual, frank tones? People died that day! My life was forever changed that day!
"My point in telling you this," he continued, "is to illustrate the danger of magic. To explain why my laws are as important as they are."
Ah, this little ride was to make sure I wasn't aligning myself with the northern lords. Clearly, Arthur was still paranoid that might happen, so this was his attempt to try and show his side of the situation, to convince me that magic was bad.
"But you are actively encouraging magic here," I said, hoping I hadn't gone too far.
"Yes," he answered with a quick nod. "Because I have no other choice. I cannot wish to go up against Merlin's forces without magic forces of my own." He paused for a moment. "The only trouble is I have no idea how many men Merlin has in his army."
Merlin didn't even really have an army. He had the Twilight Wardens, but there weren't very many of them. And he had his pupils—those of us who had made it past the Standing Stones before Arthur's magical warding had killed anyone who tried. When Merlin had taken Annwyn for his own seven years ago, he'd been alone, well aside from Corvin. Over the years, Merlin had built Annwyn up somewhat, but nothing compared to the numbers Arthur had.
"I would wish for nothing more than peace with Merlin, truth be told," Arthur continued as he glanced back at me with a sad smile.
"And you don't believe that peace is possible?"
He shook his head. "No, not after what passed between us. The rift is… too deep." He inhaled deeply. "And besides, we both view magic very differently. I doubt that will ever change. Merlin always insisted magic should remain free and unregulated, but I've witnessed the consequences of that freedom firsthand." He shook his head.
Neither of us said anything for the span of a few heartbeats. Then Arthur turned to face me. His gaze cut through me. “You understand, don’t you? Why I had to act.”
He didn't give me time to answer.
“I wasn’t afraid of magic, Lioran, though some will tell you I am. No, I was afraid of what it could become without guidance. Withoutlimits.” His voice shifted again—quieter now. Almost reluctant. "When I implemented the first registrationrequirements against magic, Merlin burst into court, accusing me of betraying everything we'd built. His rage was..." Arthur paused, "...terrifying. I remember how the air crackled with power I'd never felt from him before." He stared down at his gloves, twisting the leather between his fingers. “We nearly destroyed the throne room.”
And yet, there was something about this that didn't ring true. While Merlin had never told me why Arthur had eliminated magic in Logres, Arthur's explanation didn't really make sense to me. Instead of outlawing magic altogether, why not just go after those people who were using it for negative ends? By eliminating it, he'd essentially weakened his own people. All those mages who had died in his purges could have been used to supplement his army. So why had he put them to death instead?
“What the histories don’t record,” Arthur continued, “is that Merlin struck first.”
I looked at him sharply, not having heard this before.
“Not to kill,” he added. “But with overwhelming force—to humble me before the court.”
He pushed up his sleeve to show me a scar that ran from his wrist to his elbow. Twisted. Violent. My breath caught.
“His magic tore through my defenses like parchment.”
I couldn’t speak.
