The Fire of Merlin (The Return to Camelot #2)(12)

I stared up at my ceiling for several long seconds as Bedivere didn’t say a word. I could hear the sharp intake of breath though, as he saw the end result of my own attempt at chivalry.

And then I felt his mouth touch the tender skin.



I didn’t have a lock on my bedroom door. Arthur did, but my request for one had been refused by my parents. They were quite happy to bar my windows, but heaven forbid I should be allowed to stop people barging in.

And barge in they did.

Thankfully, the wooden stairs and creaking boards of the top floor were the alarm we needed, and Bedivere and I hastily rearranged our clothes just in time. Seconds later, Arthur, Tristram, Gareth, Talan and David flew through the door, crunching the fallen CD cases into the carpet. The sound of splintering, cracking plastic set my teeth on edge.

“Mum said the guys can sleep in the two spare rooms tonight,” said Arthur. “All of them,” he said, with added emphasis for my benefit.

“And where is your girlfriend sleeping, may I ask?”

“With me.”

“So why can’t my boyfriend sleep in my room?”

Bedivere moved himself between Arthur and me.

“I will rest where Arthur requests, Natasha,” he said, “but I fear I will not sleep. I can sense a shadow and fear coming ever closer.”

Arthur looked triumphant, and so I swore at him. The knights wished me a good night’s rest, and I was left alone – again. It was quite remarkable how, even with a house full of people, I managed to find myself back in solitary confinement by night.



Tossing and turning, I could hear the low muttering of voices coming from across the hall, but I knew Bedivere wouldn’t leave the other knights now. I tried to make out what they were saying, but their whisperings were too low. Occasionally one of them would laugh, but I didn’t recognise Bedivere’s gruff voice.

I was curled up under my patchwork quilt, with thick white socks on my feet to keep away the cold. Outside, the screams of emergency vehicles became the night’s soundtrack. An amber glow from a street lamp made strange shadows on the wall. The shadows were moving. I plumped my pillow and curled my knees up to my chest. I would have to shave my legs tomorrow, I thought, as I clutched at my stubbly shins.

I felt the lids of my eyes getting heavier and heavier. The light from outside was changing as my lids lowered. It was becoming darker, almost blue in colour.

I heard a creak outside on the wooden floorboards. It was probably my mother checking that the monotonous creaks from Arthur’s brass bed weren’t being repeated by mine.

The door slowly opened, and even though it was dark, I could see the outline of my mother in the doorway. She had changed into her nightdress because her silhouette was long and lean.

She glided across the carpet. What was she doing? She wasn’t seriously going to kiss me goodnight? How much had she had to drink?

My mother bent down over me, and hovered in the haze of the blue light.

Only it wasn’t my mother.

As I screamed, an ice cold hand wrapped its long fingers around my throat. A waterfall of hair smothered my face, as the point of something long and glistening pressed at my forehead. The pungent smell of lilies filled my nostrils. A paralysis gripped me; I couldn’t move my legs or arms. Fear, like that I had experienced with Balvidore and the Saxons the previous year, crushed down on me.



The door crashed open. It was still dark and I was still screaming. By the time Arthur and my mother arrived to restore order, my bedroom was trashed. My books and schoolwork and cuddly toys were strewn over the floor.

“What has happened in here, Natasha?” cried my mother.

“Lady Natasha was screaming, m’lady,” replied a blushing Gareth. “We hurried to aid her.”

“Another nightmare, Titch?”

My limbs were shaking. Goose pimples had erupted all over my body, although I was sweating like I had run a short distance very fast. I looked to my mum, who had a strange, glazed expression on her face. She was watching Bedivere as he stroked hair away from my damp face. I was crying, although I couldn’t remember starting to.

“She was here, Arthur.” My voice was strange, but definitely mine. I could taste bitterness. I still sensed the pressure point from the icicle-shaped dagger that had been pressing against my forehead.

“Who was here?” asked Bedivere in a low voice.

“No one was here,” said Arthur. “It was just a nightmare. Mum and Sammy are the only two other women in the house, and Sammy’s still sleeping, or at least she was.”

I clung to Bedivere.

“Don’t go,” I whispered, as everyone, assuming I had experienced nothing worse than a nightmare, made to leave my trashed bedroom.

Bedivere looked at Arthur and then my mother. She nodded once, and took a step towards me, as if to touch me, but then changed her mind and turned. As she reached the door, almost as an apology, she asked, “Would you like some hot chocolate, Natasha?”

“No - thank you.”

“Arthur’s right, it was just another one of your nightmares.”

The light was extinguished and everyone left, leaving Bedivere and me in the weak glow of the amber street light. The blue haze had disappeared.

“Don’t let me go,” I begged Bedivere, as he pulled the quilt over me.

“Never again. Of that you have my word.”