When he finally laid down on his dusty bed, he managed to fall into a light, uneasy sleep, rousing only when the sun dropped low in the sky.
Then he went through the mechanics of survival again. Using the hunter’s spray. Stealing at the night market. Gathering fresh, clean water for the flasks. This time he stole silver earrings and cherry pies. Given how she had responded to the other sweets, he was almost certain Sidonie would enjoy cherry pies.
As he slipped into his secret tunnel, a whispered spell brought faint illumination to the fingertips of one hand. He didn’t want a light so bright it ruined his night vision. He made his way to the end of the tunnel, where he had used earth magic to drape a thin sheet of rock over the entrance to hide it from discovery.
Placing one palm over the rock, he gently shifted it to one side and stepped into the prison tunnel that lay on the other side. Dousing his faint light, he made his way quickly to Sidonie’s cell.
As he drew close, he paused. There were too many scents in the tunnel, many more than there had been the last time. Something had happened. Silently, he moved forward to the cell door, listening intently.
His keen hearing picked up the soft sounds of breathing inside, from too many people. There were four, maybe five individuals in the cell, all but unmoving, except for the slight rustle of cloth and the quiet scrape of a boot against the stone floor.
Realization was like another knife thrust to the gut.
Sidonie was gone. The prison guard knew that he—or someone—had been there, and had set a trap.
Fury roared through him, born in large part from fear. Before he had fully formed a conscious intention to do so, he was springing forward. The battle with Robin had cost him, so he had to dig deep for the strength to cast a stun spell into the cell that would be strong enough to lay out several warriors. It flashed with white brilliance, highlighting the five guards inside.
They toppled to the floor. Quickly, he unlocked the cell and stalked inside. Setting aside his pack, he chose the nearest guard at random, put his palm to the other man’s forehead and, with another spell, forced him awake.
As the man came to with a muffled groan, Morgan pinned him and hissed in his ear, “What happened to the woman?”
“The w-woman?” the guard stammered.
He was the victim of two competing spells, both stunned and awake, but Morgan had no patience for the other man’s confusion. He snarled, “The prisoner from this cell. Is she dead?”
“No… no, not dead. I don’t know what happened to her… but I heard she might be back in a few days.”
Christos. The relief at hearing Sidonie was still alive was staggering.
The gods only knew what Isabeau had done to her, but where there was life, there was hope.
Whispering the spell that would erase the guard’s memory, Morgan straightened. Should he squander his waning energy on finding out what the other guards might know? One of them, Hoel, was a sergeant. Hoel would be in charge of the team.
He might know something, but each time Morgan talked to one of them he ran the risk of hearing them say something that might trigger the geas and force him back to Isabeau. They knew someone had gotten into Sidonie’s prison cell and healed her, and the choices were limited.
Robin could have done it, and, of course, Morgan himself. But to the best of their knowledge, they had to believe both Robin and Morgan were on Earth.
Robin had escaped Isabeau’s leash near the Welsh Marches earlier in the summer, and it was the height of insanity to consider that the puck might be so rash as to choose to return to Avalon of his own accord.
None of them would believe such a thing. Hell, Morgan himself wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t tracked Robin down and seen it for himself.
And Morgan had been injured and sloppy when he had left Avalon directly after Isabeau’s orders. He had put the guards to sleep at the crossover passageway and had left a clear trail. When he had returned a few days ago, he had covered his tracks much better.
So they couldn’t know for sure who had healed Sidonie. If they had truly believed it had been either Robin or Morgan, there would have been several of Isabeau’s most Powerful magic users waiting down here, perhaps even Modred himself. And Morgan had left no trace of his scent, plus he had kept the tunnel opening covered with the sheet of rock.
Sidonie wouldn’t be able to tell them anything. To the best of their knowledge, they had a locked-room mystery on their hands—but the weakest part of the mystery was Sidonie. Isabeau wouldn’t like an unsolved mystery in her basement. So she had set a trap to see what she might catch.
And she would keep Sidonie close, so that she could question her again at her leisure.
Certainty solidified underneath him. Sidonie was still somewhere close by, in the castle.
Morgan had to solve their locked-room mystery for them, so they would have no reason to question Sidonie again at length.
Stepping over bodies, he reached Hoel and threw the spell that would wake him. With a snap of his fingers, he called light back to his hand. As Hoel shifted and groaned, Morgan pressed a hand over the other man’s mouth.
“Wake up,” Morgan said. “Look at me.”
The sergeant blinked dazedly at him. Awareness widened his eyes.
When Morgan was sure Hoel had recognized him, he said in a voice laced with Power, “You will not speak unless it is in answer to a direct question. Is that clear?”
Hoel nodded.
Pulling his hand away, Morgan asked, “Where did you take the prisoner?”
“The Queen has given her leave to prepare for an audition while we hunt for—while we investigate who might have healed her.” Sweat broke out on Hoel’s forehead. “My lord, I-I-I’m supposed to tell you…”
Morgan clapped his hand over Hoel’s mouth again. He snapped, “I ordered you not to speak unless it was in answer to a direct question.”
Orders that had been laced with Power were difficult to disobey. Hoel must have a compelling reason for fighting Morgan’s directive, and Morgan had a feeling it might have something to do with Isabeau wanting him back whether he was healed or not.
Should he bother to try asking Hoel any more questions? Was it worth the risk?
After a moment, he decided it wasn’t. If Sidonie wasn’t dead, he could find her.
It was time to give the guards another story to take to the Queen, one that had just enough plausibility to set her suspicions to rest.
Looking into Hoel’s eyes, he said, “Don’t fight me. If you fight me hard enough, it might break your mind. Relax, sergeant. Relax every muscle in your body, and relax your mind. Relax your thoughts. Let them float away. There’s nothing urgent you need to do, and there’s nothing to worry about. All is well. There’s only the truth that you’re about to discover.”
As he spoke, he dug deep into the other man’s mind until he was sure he had a strong hold. Instinctively Hoel struggled against the control, at least at first, but the stun spell Morgan had originally thrown worked in his favor, and Hoel quickly lost the battle.
“A friendly water sprite had heard Sidonie’s cries of pain,” he whispered to the sergeant. “She traveled up the privy hole to see what was the matter. When she found Sidonie broken, she sent her to sleep and healed her hands. While you were waiting here in the cell, the sprite returned to check on her handiwork. She would have fled and cast a spell of sleep over the other guards, but you convinced her to stay and talk to you—at least for a few minutes. Remember, she asked after Sidonie, and was angry and concerned that she was missing from the cell. Water sprites don’t let go easily when they become attached.”
“A water sprite,” Hoel murmured, relaxing into the story. “That would explain it.”
“It explains everything,” Morgan told him, still working his magic on the man’s memories. “The lack of scent, the lack of any other evidence of an intruder in the tunnels. You’ve looked everywhere down here, and you know for a certainty there is no other way out, or in.”
“There truly isn’t.” Hoel shook his head, smiling. “We checked every inch of the tunnels, and every nook and cranny in the cells. She was beautiful, the water sprite, wasn’t she?”
Now Hoel’s mind was working with him to spin the tale. “She was extraordinary,” Morgan murmured. “Delicate and shimmering, and appearing to be made completely from water. She fit easily through the privy hole—after all, she’s a water elemental and can shrink or grow according to the space she’s in. You already know how water sprites populate this area of the river, and the shores of the sea beyond. They may be shy of the Light Fae, but they’re still there.”