“You’re binding my magic?” she demanded and sounded both shocked and outraged.
“I see,” Mordred responded.
I didn’t bother looking at her. “The binding requirements are specific. Not only do I want her water magic disabled, but I want the bindings to be reversible.” I watched him absorb this. “And whatever channel exists between her and Merlin, it needs to be closed, but able to be opened again when and if we require it.”
“Why are you binding my magic?” she insisted.
“Because I won’t have you harming any of my men.”
She just glared at me. And that was fine.
Mordred’s gaze had moved fully to her now. The triangular crystal at his throat pulsed once, dim and slow, but she didn’t appear to notice it. I did: it meant he was already reading her.
“Achievable,” he said. “Complicated, but achievable.”
“I need it done today.”
“I’ll require the next few hours, but I should have the binding finished by this evening, sire.”
I looked at her. “If you try your magic against Mordred, he has my express permission to kill you.”
“That will be unnecessary, my liege,” Mordred answered. “I can protect myself.”
I noticed she didn’t say anything, which was just as well. I nodded to Mordred and then turned to leave.
“And after containment?” Mordred asked. “What is the plan for her?”
I stopped, but didn’t turn around immediately. Behind me, I could feel Guinevere’s attention sharpen. I turned enough to look at Mordred, though not at her.
“You can return her to the dungeon,” I said.
I’d thought about what would come next on the ride back with the clarity that comes from sustained fury and is more reliable than calm. Guinevere’s power was real. More than real. Left unchecked, it was a threat. Left ungoverned, it was worse.
So, Mordred would close the channel to Merlin, and he’d suppress her abilities. And then she’d spend the coming days demonstrating, whether she intended to or not, exactly how much of a risk she was.
I left her standing in the blue light of Mordred’s doorway without looking back.
The dragon’s heat followed me all the way down the stairs.
Keep her.
I descended into the cold of the corridor below and said nothing to anyone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
-GUIN-
The crystal pendant at Mordred’s throat pulsed white as I thought about attempting to use my magic against him and then escaping.
But very soon I remembered just who this was, and I stopped myself from trying anything.
Not only had Arthur given him permission to kill me, but Mordred would take him up on it. Of that, I was certain. In fact, I was fairly sure Mordred considered me a risk just by keeping me alive. So, I didn’t fight him.
Mordred said nothing when he initiated the binding. There was no grand incantation, no theatrical gestures. Just his fingers tracing a single rune in the air between us, and thenithit me.
Not like a blow. More like complete submersion.
My magic didn’t disappear. Instead, it collapsed inward, folding against itself, and the pressure was catastrophic. Every water sense I possessed: the distant pull of the river through the castle’s foundation, the moisture in the stone walls, the blood moving through Mordred’s veins, all of it snapped shut like a fist closing over a flame.
