Morgain's Revenge - Laura Anne Gilman [22]
“Are you magic?” she asked it. “Of course you must be; you’re a magical beast. But are you magic to cause such happiness with such a simple sound?”
The beast sighed, shifting slightly as though to lean more into her touch, and kept purring.
“No, I can’t stay here all day and pet you, silly thing.”
Why not? a small voice in her head asked; not the voice she had become somewhat used to hearing, of Merlin giving advice. But a more familiar one—of self-doubt and second-guessing. Why shouldn’t she stay here? Surely they could not call this an attempt to escape, not if she was found with a beast clearly belonging to Morgain. And it would be difficult to feel bored or trapped in the company of such a happy purr. And think of how much you would enjoy telling Newt about it. He would be so jealous, not to have met—
And that thought stopped any inclination to stay put. How could she tell Newt anything while trapped in Morgain’s castle? No one knew where she was or who had taken her, or that Morgain had been inside Camelot to start with. Nobody would be coming to save her. If she wanted to do more than grow old inside her gilded cage then she had to find answers for herself.
“I’m sorry, lovely. But I have to go.”
She stepped away, watching carefully to make sure that the beast did not take offense, and looked around to explore more of the chamber they were in. It was a round room with high ceilings, and three sets of wooden doors; the ones she had come through were carved with dragons, the ones to her left had sleek cats entwined in play, and the ones to her right had flames wrapped around twined roses.
Neither of the two new sets of doors gave her a clue as to where to go.
“Any suggestions, my friend?” she asked, not expecting an answer, and therefore not disappointed when none came.
Merlin? she asked inside her head. Do you have any suggestions for me? Now would be a good time.
She hadn’t expected an answer from the enchanter, either. Not here inside Morgain’s own home. But the silence in her head felt lonely nonetheless.
“That one, then,” she decided, purely on impulse, and pushed through the carved doors.
“She’s a brave one, that’s for certain,” Morgain said to herself, watching the girl move on down the hallway. The griffin perked up, as though it had somehow heard her words, and seemed to look directly into the scrying crystal Morgain was using to observe her unwilling guest.
“Yes, all right,” Morgain said in response to the unspoken question posed by her pet. “Go on, then.”
Given permission, the beast got to its feet and, with an agility natural to its cat body, turned to follow Ailis through the doors.
“Interesting,” Morgain said to herself, a smile curving her bloodred lips, giving a softer cast to her face.
The sound of the door opening behind her caused her to curl her fingers over the crystal, blanking out the scene she had been watching. Only one person would dare intrude upon her, and she had no intention of sharing everything that went on in her home with that individual.
When she turned to greet the uninvited guest, the smile on her face had changed to a warmer but less sincere one.
“It is customary to knock,” she said lightly, nothing in her tone or posture showing her anger, “when entering your host’s private study.”
“We have gone beyond politeness, you and I,” the figure said. Wrapped in a heavy gray cloak, despite the warmth of the room, the speaker poured a glass of deep red wine from the bottle waiting on a small table, then sank into an ornately carved wooden chair and looked sideways at Morgain. “We have no time for your little games right now. There are more important things to deal with. Your brother has taken the bait we set for him.”
“As I knew he would,” Morgain said with satisfaction. “Using the Marcher Lords’ pride was a brilliant stroke. No king worth his salt dares ignore unrest along his borders.” She settled in her own seat and smoothed the fabric of her dress before looking up again, her eyes intent. “Tell me more.