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“You are Queen Mildred of the Kingdom of Callywith. I recognize you from the tales my ladies have told me. That hideous tattoo on your hand marks you as a heathen! It must be the sign of the devil that you worship,” Gwen hissed, pointing to the mystical mark that Mildred had borne nearly all of her life.

Molly let out a shocked gasp. Gwen really didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. To insinuate that her mother was a heathen and a devil worshiper, why, it was too much! Someone had to put an end to Gwen’s crazy shit before it blew up right in her face.

Mildred pulled her hand away, and quickly pulled the long sleeves of her gown down to cover her hands. Mildred narrowed her eyes at Gwen and Molly could literally taste the thick tension in the air. Someone had to do something to change Gwen’s mind. Right now, Molly could barely keep herself awake, let alone run to her mother’s defense. The last thing she wanted was for Gwen to scare her mother away. She quickly rethought the scaring away bit when a stern gleam entered her mother’s eyes. Her mother lifted her head proudly and nearly overfilled the room with the confident vibes she exuded. But Molly knew her mother. Mildred would never say or do anything against Gwen. If her mother had to restrain herself for matters beyond Molly, then Molly would take care of the situation for her.

“Pray leave this moment, Lady Gwen,” Molly managed to sputter out, before she was consumed by a wracking cough that left her weakened.

Mildred released her, and she slumped back against the numerous plump pillows that covered Arthur and Gwen’s bed. The scent of violets hung in the air. It was the scent she always identified with her mother.

Huffing with indignation, Gwen sped out of the room and took her entourage of ladies with her. Molly breathed a sigh of relief. The strain that had been pulling at her now ebbed away. It was amazing how the presence of one woman could cause so much undue misery.

Light engulfed the room, as Adria and Merlin materialized in a gust of purple smoke.

“All is well, I see,” Merlin said, nodding his head as Morganna gaped at him.

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“I’m going to kill you,” Morganna muttered, just as a knight’s large frame filled the doorway. “Lancelot,” she gasped, as she was rooted to the spot. Molly watched Morganna’s astonished face with interest. Morganna had to watch her reaction to Lancelot. They were not yet husband and wife. In fact, Lancelot didn’t even seem to realize that Morganna thought of him in a romantic way. Her heart went out to Morganna. Lancelot came striding into the room, completely ignoring Morganna as he moved to catch Arthur’s attention.

Halfheartedly, Arthur moved away from Molly and Mildred and ambled over to where the blond-haired Lancelot stood. Lancelot leaned on his sword named Arondight, and began murmuring in a low tone to Arthur. Molly strained to catch snippets of the conversation, even as Merlin descended upon her.

“You let your guard down,” Merlin commented. His piercing crystal-blue gaze nearly unnerved her.

“Aye, and you put me in that troublesome situation in the first place! You didn’t even warn Morganna and I that you were dropping us into the middle of one of the biggest battles that I have ever seen in my long life. You should be the one apologizing to me!” she snapped angrily, causing Merlin to cluck his tongue.

“My dearest child, must I remind you that you have melded with your eighteen-year-old self? So even though you feel much older in mind and spirit, you are still very much a child.

And if you were not hurt so dreadfully, I’d be sorely tempted to give you a much deserved spanking. “

“Bah,” she muttered, turning her head away from him. “You didn’t have to do this to me.

I could have come back as someone else. I never asked to get in touch with my eighteen-year-old self again! Now that I’ve been wounded at Mount Badon, everything will begin to change.

What if I’ve created a domino effect?” she demanded. Her eyes darted to her mother who remained suspiciously silent.

“Perhaps, a domino effect is exactly what is needed, to stop the darkness that will begin to seep across the lands, now that the secrets of the Avalon Diaries are in the possession of Lord Cardan. He will be sure to use all of those secrets to his advantage. If you think the small changes that are occurring now spell a bad omen, just wait until Lord Cardan decides to wreak his havoc. By the time he is done, Camelot, Tintagel Castle, and all of Arthur’s other kingdoms shall be burning to the ground. The facets of a civilization will be lost in those ashes!

You have no way of predicting what will happen to the timeline. Right now, as we speak, though the timeline is changing, it is still fairly stable. I can still see the future as it is intended to be. But…if Lord Cardan gains dominance over all of Britain, our way of life as we know it will be in peril. Many great civilizations were spawned from Britain. If Britain falls now, at this crucial moment, the standing stones for the future will crumble away. The time is now, Molly. We must be diligent in ensuring that nothing cataclysmic happens to disrupt the stability of the true future!

Once, many years ago, an oracle of great talent and wisdom foretold of three separate and entirely different futures. The first future she saw was the one that you just came back from, the second future was the one that nearly caused her to have a breakdown. It is said, that she lost her mind shortly after these visions because she became too paranoid. She said the second future had been filled with strife and terrible suffering. After she came back from that particular vision she had bright red welts up and down her back. They were a manifestation of the agony that she suffered during the vision, you see. That is why we cannot let that version of the future come to fruition. Thus, we must do all that we can to defeat Lord Cardan, for that is the future he strives LADY PENDRAGON MARLEY MATHEWS 43

to resurrect. The third possible future was the one that held the hope to save our world from the second future…it isn’t much different from the first…but it is the parallel opposite of the second future. “

Molly gasped, and briefly felt her mother’s hand pat hers comfortingly. “Do not fret Molly, we shall correct all of the wrong doings; as we speak, forces in the magical realms are mobilizing in case Merlin requires their assistance,” she murmured. Molly bit her lip and tasted blood. Blood pounded in her ears. She had to breathe deeply until the rushing in her ears faded away. She clutched the fine furs beneath her fingertips. Her heartbeat raced so quickly that she feared it would burst right out of her chest. When Royal had stolen the Avalon Diaries, she had never foreseen such a horrible catastrophe unfolding. She had been overly confident. In the future, she would not be so brazen when it came to such matters of dire consequence. Arthur broke off his discussion with Lancelot, and let out a colorful curse. Molly’s eyes flitted to where he stood. He seemed more than just a little agitated. He looked positively pissed off.

“King Lot, Queen Morgause and Prince Mordred, are traveling here as we speak,” he declared, raking his hand through his dark hair. “They come over an issue of grand consequence.

It would seem, that Morgause has a confession to make, or at least the rider from Orkneys says she does. He was told to tell me that it imparts the greatest of joy for both of our kingdoms. “

Arthur’s voice sounded greatly fatigued and Molly knew that her father would need to gather his strength by resting before his half-sister and her overbearing, loud, not to mention crude husband arrived. Then there was Mordred. A shiver rippled through Molly. She’d never been able to stand Mordred and when he’d been lost in the river five years from now, she had been eternally grateful. But as Merlin had just pointed out, that had been another timeline. There was no way of telling when Mordred would meet his blessed demise this time around. She could only hope that he fell in the river on his way here.

Her mother pierced her with her seemingly all-knowing gaze. Had her dear mama guessed her morbid thoughts? She had a sneaky suspicion that Mildred had done just that. Even now, her brilliant eyes glittered with a wealth of knowledge that seemed far out of Molly’s grasp.

A quiver of guilt edged its way into her subconscious. She had never had such negative thoughts toward anyone not evil before, but for some reason, she couldn’t shake her bad feeling when it came to Mordred. His greedy eyes always put the most sickening feeling in the depth of her stomach. He had the habit of looking at her as if she belonged to him. The way that he looked at her more private parts made her feel dirty and used; that’s why she didn’t particularly welcome a visit from her coldhearted cousin. There was also one other fact to consider. A shape-shifter using Mordred’s guise had murdered her father…she’d never be able to get over that.

Sometimes, the adage, time healed all wounds, just didn’t cut it.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she pressed her hand to her side and inhaled deeply, as a searing pain shot up her side. To repress the swearword that was on the tip of her tongue, she bit down hard on her lower lip, and drew blood. She reached for Merlin’s colorful wizard’s robes and pulled him down to her eye level, then she whispered her question before her father could reach her side.

“Where is Collin and Lachlan?” She instantly realized that she didn’t have to be concerned about the Leprechaun King, but somehow Lachlan had wormed his way into her heart, and as much as she hated to admit it, she did worry about his welfare. After all, she didn’t want to see him dead; she just wanted to see him squirm in his boots for a while. But Collin would be out of his element. Arthurian England differed greatly from the England of the 21st Century.

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“They are both on Avalon,” Merlin muttered, staring down at her in irritation. He wrinkled his eyebrows together. “Molly, dear girl, you have blood on your hands, you shall stain my robes,” he pointed out, as he pried her fingers off of the expensive Faerie silk that his robes were made of. Though Molly had many gowns made in the fine silk from the East, the Faerie silk that Merlin wore was like spun gold beneath her fingertips. Rubbing the material between her fingers, she gave him a shit happy grin.

“I don’t give a fig about your blasted robes,” she muttered. She lost her breath as another wave of pain exploded in her side. It seemed to be some form of phantom pain. Even though Beatrice had healed her wound it still pained her deeply. Would it ever fade away? Being hurt by a black rider’s blade could haunt a person for their entire life. The darkness seeped into your wound and poisoned your system. Beatrice had pushed out most of the poison but still…Molly shook her head against her morbid thoughts. She had to stop dwelling on the past. The future stretched out before her. Come what may, Molly had to keep herself focused. She dragged in a large breath of air. Merlin’s eyes flickered with something unidentifiable. It almost seemed as if he had read her thoughts. His wrinkled visage softened as Mildred gently pulled her away from him.

“Cease your constant struggling, Molly. You need to rest. You need to get your strength back. I’m frightened for you; now just sit back against the pillows and relax,” Mildred instructed firmly, using her best motherly tone with Molly, as she eased her back onto the thick mattress.

Mildred began removing Molly’s gown, and armor, leaving Molly in her plain white linen shift.

Mildred pulled off her knee length leather boots, and then tore off the leggings that Molly wore to keep her legs protected during battle. Nicks and scratches still covered Molly. They had probably been caused by the thicket of trees they’d rode through on their way to Mount Badon, rather than the battle itself. She grimaced when she saw them and one larger scar, which testified that her wound had been severe. Beatrice had to be resting in her room. Healing Molly after such a terrible wound must have nearly drained all of her energy. Normally, when someone was healed by an Elf or Faerie, all of their wounds were taken care of as well. Sometimes, older battle scars even faded after the healing process.

Mildred noticed the nicks and scar at the same time as Molly did. Pure fear shone in Mildred’s eyes for the briefest of seconds, before she smiled and covered her near panic with shining love.

Mildred moved quickly over to one of Gwen’s great oak chests and flung it open as she searched for a nightgown. She pulled out one of Gwen’s white flowing ones and brought it back to Molly.

“I can’t wear that. Take me back to my own chambers. I won’t fit into it; Gwen is much smaller than I. She is more delicate than me,” she muttered, as she began rising from the bed once again.

“My dearest daughter, must I remind you that you are no larger than Gwen? You are only eighteen years old. “

Molly arched her eyebrow at the tone of her mother’s voice. Did she know? Her mother did speak the truth. In the future, she had filled out in certain spots thanks to a rigorous training schedule she kept up after her father’s death. Revenge had been on her mind then, and she’d nearly worked herself to the bone. Had she not been a warrior witch and immortal she would have surely worn herself out. Her pensive thoughts were interrupted when Arthur began speaking.

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“Nay. You are not going anywhere. You will not fight your mother and I on this, Molly.

We know what is best for you,” Arthur commanded. Molly’s mouth fell open. She’d been on her own for a long time. She had been the mistress of her own life, and now to be thrust back in such a humiliating situation…well it really burned her butt! Everyone fell silent in the chamber, and Adria’s mouth gaped open. Her expression probably matched Molly’s save for the fact that Adria was more astonished, whereas Molly was spitting fire.