Perilous Times

She wants to bathe in asses’ milk, or the blood of a basilisk, or something else extravagant. A deep cleanse. Sleeping with Arthur again is awaking some very old impulses. It would have to be almond milk, nowadays. But even almonds are bad for the planet. She read that in the New Yorker.

I trusted you because it was easy. And I trusted Regan because it was easy. I gave her the sword because it was easy. It meant I didn’t have to do anything. I could just trust somebody else to fix the problem. But I think I’ve figured out now that I can’t keep doing that. I can’t keep hoping that somebody else will come along and magically make eve

‘Have you thought about what I said?’ she calls into the bathroom. ‘Christ’s weeping sores, woman,’ Arthur grumbles. ‘Let me piss in peace.’ Morgan closes her eyes and licks the rolling paper. She could get up and slink into the bathroom, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his shoulder blades. He has shoulders like an ox. It would probably pu

‘Are there any more of these fracking places?’ he asks. ‘Anywhere else where they’re doing the same thing?’ She is sitting on one of the bunks now, with her socks up on the stained old covers. Hugging her knees. Giving him a strange look. ‘Yeah, loads. Why?’ ‘Whatever they were doing there, it had something to do with magic,’ he says. ‘And when peo

And before Kay can think about how he’s going to kill it, the dragon leaps upwards, beating the smoke down with its wings. With a few good strokes it’s high in the air, trailing its long body behind it, rising on the column of heat from the burning tower. And then it’s gone, high above the smoke. Far too high for him to see where it is going. ‘What

He gulps down air, trying to fill his lungs, but the air feels heavier than it ought to feel. It doesn’t look like there’s anyone here to wake him up this time. In the old days there were bands of horsemen, sometimes even a king, in person, when the need was dire. Then it became army lorries, or circles of druids in white shifts, slightly surprised

The sword isn’t anywhere on her person, that he can see. But then this sickly form beside him is just one aspect of what Nimue actually is. She’s every river in the realm, every stream or limpid pool. The sword could be anywhere or everywhere. Hidden in an underwater cave. Spread finely in the morning mist. Raining down on the mountains in the old

‘We voted it down, in a meeting!’ says Willow. ‘When a vote doesn’t go the way you want it to go, you can’t just ignore it. That’s not how votes work.’ Mariam squeezes her eyes closed. ‘Meetings aren’t going to save the planet.’ Willow holds up her hand. ‘Look at the bloody sky, Mariam. Is that going to save the planet?’

This is the same Morgan who once trapped him in the cellar of her castle for three months, back in the old days. The first rumours about him and Gwenhwyfar probably passed as whispers from her lips into Arthur’s ears, to sow discord at Caer Moelydd. He has a glut of reasons to dislike her. But there was always something about her that he faintly ad