Avalon Rising by Kathryn Rose

says, “I’ll give you the instructions. Besides, you’ll need a stable surface to create jaseemat before I leave to find Marcus if he isn’t in the Perilous Lands yet.”
    I turn my head quickly, in time for Rufus to realize the gaffe in his statement. “ We. Not you , blacksmith,” I assert. As was the agreement.
    He has goggles around his neck and sets them over his eyes. “Aye, my lady. That’s what I meant.”
    But I don’t believe him.
It didn’t take long for Marcus and me to forget we were meant to be hiding from Morgan in that barn.
    “He never spoke much, even when I was a child,” Marcus said of his father. His stories were few and vague, but compelling and mysterious all the same. “My mother was born and raised in the farmlands of Camelot, but when my father arrived as a man, alone and with no name for himself, she was caught up in the mystery, I suppose.”
    My eyes were heavy with fatigue as Marcus spoke, but I wanted to hear more. I rested my cheek on my arm, facing him as he mirrored my position. His fingers plucked at the bits of hay between us, and his eyes went back and forth between the dancing fire and me.
    “He said there were people who knew about the Grail’s powers and could attest to how incredible they were. They wanted it for their own reasons. I’m sure to continue stealing magic was one of them.” He shrugged lazily. “Lyonesse knew of alchemy, but I don’t think those living there saw much difference between it and magic, to be honest.”
    “Why did he leave?” I asked in a whisper. “And what made him decide upon Camelot?”
    Over the course of Marcus’s storytelling, he’d certainly become exhausted by my many questions, but Guinevere had never told me what sort of life she’d had in Lyonesse. Only brief words in passing about her former handmaids, the luxurious animal skins and linens they’d use for ornate clothing, foods so different from our Jerusalem-styled feasts. She’d never said anything close to the likes of what Marcus just admitted.
    He hesitated and raised a corner of his lips in an awkward smile. “Aren’t you glad he did? Otherwise I might not have been here to save you from this storm.”
    I pushed him away playfully, my fingers lingering at the ties of his tunic, passing them between my fingers like weaving a loom. “Watch your pride, squire. You saved me from nothing.”
    He shrugged again, his smile broader now. After a long breath, we both remembered my question. “It was dangerous to be there. Full of sorceresses turning men into wraiths a knight would have to slay with mechanical weapons. He didn’t want to turn into the likes of … ” He might have almost said Merlin’s name, but his voice was a lullaby I could fall asleep to, and I’d already felt my eyelids growing heavy. “You might stop me if I’m that dull of a storyteller.”
    My eyes fluttered open again in time to see him shuffling closer. We had to be careful. But outside, there was still a thunderous storm and an angry witch eager to find us. We weren’t about to leave for a while.
    He smiled again and rested against the hay bushel, his arm opened to me. “It’s all right. I’ll wake you when the rain stops.”
    I knew it might be the only time I could feel his body near mine. I knew this sanctuary from the rain was all we could claim for ourselves. For now, possibly forever. I shuffled closer and set my cheek against his beating heart. His arm pulled me in; he took a long, deep breath like he was memorizing this moment, as I was.
    I was desperate not to fall asleep.
    The low and winded voice of Merlin returns with the force of crashing waves. “Not only did you nearly ruin your reputation that night, you let down your guard and risked our plans of construction.”
    My eyes snap open. The sky is dark from night; I missed any sunset to the west, but the clouds wouldn’t have let me see it anyway. We’ve been flying for nearly an entire day. The chill is terrible, and