"I've had enough," Morgana declared, "one more day with him and I'm going to lose it."
"You said that yesterday."
"I know, but I mean it this time. He's driving me insane."
"Which part, the narcissism or the fake grieving?"
"Both."
Gwen attempted a smile. "I thought you'd say that."
"I'm getting too predictable, aren't I? Do you think he suspects anything?"
Gwen watched as Morgana paced up and down her chambers. It had been over a week since the dragon's attack and, though the flames had long been put out, the King was dead and the Prince was missing. "I think," she said, "that Agravaine's too focused on himself to notice anyone else. Unless you count his obsession with finding Arthur."
"He won't. He won't find him."
"Do you think he's safe?"
"He's with Merlin," Morgana said, as if that answered the question. Then, glancing out the window at the midday sun, she brought her pacing to a halt. "It's almost time."
"Should we go now?"
"Not just yet. We have to time it perfectly."
"Five more minutes then?"
Morgana nodded. "Five more minutes."
~~~
The streets of Camelot were heaving. People jostled back and forth as they tried to weave paths through the crowd, moving from one market stall to the next like birds between trees. The scene seemed relatively normal. The sun was beating down and people were going about their days the way they always had: baskets in hand, smiles on faces and children running through the streets.
The change was subtle.
Here and there, cobblestones were missing from the paving. Their absence wasn't noticeable unless you tripped. Morgana had seen someone do that twice already. Then, if eyes were cast further up, buildings could be seen undergoing repairs — for charred sides or caved rooves — as though they were merely being updated.
Morgana shuddered. Though the initial shock of the dragon's attack had worn off, the scars had run deep and she, more than anyone, knew their true extent. The villagers knew they'd lost a King. That was all. Everything else was speculation. Morgana couldn't help but feel responsible. She had the power to tell them the truth and every day she withheld her knowledge her guilt grew.
But it was safer this way.
She had no proof of the King's murder. Accusing Agravaine, the acting King, of foul play could constitute treason. It would only add to the people's panic. And even if they believed her, the guards now had a duty to obey Agravaine's every order — at least until Arthur could be found — and she had no desire to lead unarmed people in a revolt against trained fighters, even with the Knights on her side. Besides, even if Agravaine was overthrown, Camelot would still be without a King.
They needed Arthur.
And, until then, they needed a plan.
"What do you think?"
Morgana was pulled from her thoughts to see Gwen, standing in the shade of the nearest stall, holding up a piece of fabric. It was midnight blue with a silvery, shimmering thread woven in spiralling patterns through the middle. "Suits you," she grinned.
"You think so?"
Morgana recognised the code instantly. Her eyes flickered from Gwen to a pair of guards, just passing on their rounds, and then back again. She knew they could see her, but then that was the point.
"Morgana?"
They locked eyes. "Absolutely."
Gwen replaced the fabric. She knew what that reply meant: the guards had gone, they were safe to move. "This way," she whispered, pulling up the hood of her cloak and ducking into a side street.
Morgana followed suit.
They kept their heads down and reached the end of the street. They turned left — Gwen in front, Morgana a little behind — and then right. Another left. They were in the quieter part of town.
Almost there, Morgan thought. She'd been this way before. It must have been a few months ago. Maybe more. It was hard to remember. Now, risking a few glances, all the houses seemed to look them same: battered doors, slightly smeared windows, rows of plant pots cluttering the floor. It was oddly quaint. Still, even without looking, Morgana sensed the emptiness of the street around them. It was quite. The distance voices of the marketplace were the only sound.
"Here."
Morgana looked up just as Gwen grabbed her hand and pulled them through a nearby doorway. The second they were inside she bolted the door shut.
And then they could breathe.
Removing the hood of her cloak, Morgan was able to see the scene in front of her.
The Knights of Camelot were stood in Gwen's kitchen. They were dressed in plain clothes — old shirts and boots that looked like they'd seen better days — and were completely oblivious of the women's sudden presence. As far as the Knights were concerned, they were still waiting patiently for their arrival. Or perhaps patiently wasn't the right word. Percival was stood with a jar in his hand, holding it close to his face as if he'd been reading its inscription, while Lancelot — stood on the other side of the room — was holding a separate, much larger, jar and seemed to be waiting for Percival to notice. Instead, it was Gwaine who'd caught Percival's eye. The brunet had found Gwen's vase of flowers and was taking one out to place in his hair. Elyan removed it instantly. Gwaine pulled a face and took another flower. Elyan put it back. This went on for some time until, without warning, Elyan stuck his hand in the vase and flicked water straight in Gwaine's face. The brunet shot backwards so fast he almost hit the bookcase. Leon, overseeing the chaos, simply laughed.
"If you're quite finished," Gwen smiled, watching as the Knights suddenly froze, "we have a lot to discuss."
Very slowly, Percival put down the jar; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lancelot do the same.
"Thank you." Gwen glanced over at Morgana. "Ready?"
She nodded. "We don't have long — I'd say ten minutes — before the guards pass again on their rounds. I know we're all at risk in coming here, but Gwen and I especially — we cannot be missed or the guards will make a report to Agravaine who still pretends to be concerned for our safety. So let's make this quick. Firstly," she moved further into the room, voice dropping slightly, "Arthur is not dead. At least, I can say with certainty that the dragon didn't kill him. I was there when he returned with Merlin and it was I who sent them away again. If anything has happened since—"
"The forest searches haven't found a body," Leon reminded.
"That's true. So we can have hope of Arthur's return. Secondly, as you may have suspected, Agravaine killed Uther and rules in his place."
Gwaine pulled a face. "The throne belongs to Arthur. Always has. I say we take it back."
"We will — but not yet. Arthur was badly injured when I last saw him, he'll need time to recover. Until then we must be patient and we must have a plan. And more importantly, we need a way to get that plan to Arthur."
"We could join the forest searches."
Everyone turned to look at Lancelot.
"Think about it. They haven't found a body in over a week. People are starting to have more hope. If he hasn't returned by now it Agravaine must know what that means: either Arthur's injured and can't make it back, or he knows it's not safe to come home. So we convince Agravaine that he must be injured and stranded somewhere — helpless — and that we should be the ones to find him and bring him home. He refused to let us search before because he knows where our loyalty lies. But if we can make him believe that our primary concern is bringing Arthur back — and that Arthur would be vulnerable enough to pose as an easy target — then we might just stand a chance."
"Right," a small smile had settled on Morgana's face, "and if you find him you can pass on any messages."
"Exactly. We'd be the go-betweens."
"Hold on," Gwen was still frowning, "what makes you think you'll find him so easily? The guards have had a week and turned up with nothing."
"The guards have been slowly searching the forest floor. They won't have ventured too far. They've been looking for a body. We're looking for a Prince, and we know how to follow tracks."
Morgana nodded. "Then it's settled. Go to Agravaine tomorrow and do what ever it takes to convince him. You must be allowed to leave the city. Our entire plan depends on it."
And then, before any of the Knights could say anything else, Gwen and Morgana had slipped back out and into the street, leaving them staring at the empty space where they had been.