who will seek to revenge their father on you and yours. To keep Lynior’s son safe you must keep him hidden even as I kept you hidden with Ector all these years so that you might live to follow in your father’s footsteps.”
Arthur nodded slowly. “I understand,” he said, feeling as if the stone that housed the sword was now upon his shoulders. He knew suddenly, and with great insight, that his boyhood was over; that the life ahead of him would be filled with adventure, passion, pleasure and pain. There would be great successes, and equally great disappointments. “You will stay with me, and guide me, Merlin, won’t you?”
“I will remain with Your Majesty as long as I can,” the Enchanter said, a small smile touching his wintery features.
“And no matter what happens my blood will flow down through the centuries?”
“Forever and ever, my lord. You have my promise,” Merlin answered quietly.
Arthur thrust the sword back into the stone. “Fetch the lesser kings then that I may prove myself their High King.”
“Yes, my lord,” Merlin replied, and he hurried off.
And so Arthur drew the sword from the stone in the grassy courtyard a second time, before all the lesser kings of Britain, and was proclaimed High King, though there were some who were not happy. His reign was a great one as Merlin had predicted, but the daughters of Gorlois, his half sisters, were a constant thorn in his side. The eldest of them, Morgan Le Fay, a powerful enchantress, seduced Arthur who had never met her, and conceived a child by him. Their son, Mordred, eventually became the downfall of his father’s kingdom.
But in the mountains of north Wales, Lynior, daughter of Evan, raised Arthur’s eldest son, Gwydre, in secret, protected by Merlin’s sorcery even after the ancient Enchanter disappeared. And through Gwydre, and his wife, Eres, daughter of Odgar, who was the son of Aedd, King of Ireland, the line of Pendragon continued down through the centuries unscathed.
Part One
Averil
Chapter 1
“I shall marry a great lord,” Averil Pendragon told her sisters as they sat together in their father’s hall. Her golden head nodded emphatically with her pronouncement.
“You shall marry the man our father chooses for you,” her sister Maia said.
“And he shall be a great lord,” Averil repeated.
“Perhaps,” Maia said. “But he could as easily be an old merchant to whom father owes a great debt, and wishes to pacify; or mayhap a knight father wishes to bind to our service. Your dower will be small, Averil, for though you are the eldest of us, you are still naught but a concubine’s daughter. My brother Brynn and I are the true heirs,” Maia concluded loftily with a satisfied smile.
“But I am the most beautiful of us all,” Averil shot back. “Everyone says I am the fairest of our father’s daughters. My beauty shall not be wasted on some merchant or simple knight. I may be the daughter of a concubine, but our father loves my mother, and so my value is great.”
“You are the most beautiful of us all!” their youngest sister, Junia, said with a sigh. “You are both very beautiful, and I am so plain.”
“You are not plain, Junia,” Maia said. “You are simply young.”
“Aye, I am,” Junia replied. “You have such rich red hair, Maia. And you, Averil, are descended from the Fair Folk, and have hair like spun gold. My dark hair is so common.” She sighed.
“But your features are exquisite,” Averil remarked. “You have the most perfect little nose, and a sweet mouth, Junia. As for your hair, it has the blue-green shine of a raven’s wing. It is hardly common, sister.”
“But I am a concubine’s daughter, too,” Junia wailed. “And the youngest! What sort of dower will I have by the time I am old enough to wed? Father will probably have to match me with the old merchant.” She began to cry.
“Now see what you have done with your proud boasting!” Averil snapped at Maia. “You have made the baby weep, and if we cannot stop her we will be punished.”
“What about your boasting about being the most beautiful and marrying a great lord?” Maia demanded to know. Reaching out, she pulled Junia from her stool, and into the comfort of her arms. “There, there, chick, do not fret. Father loves us all equally, and we will all have grand dowers and great lords for husbands I am certain.” She stroked her little sister’s dark head.
“Really?” Junia sniffed softly.
“Of course, you goose!” Averil said impatiently. “We are the Dragon Lord’s daughters, and descended from King Arthur himself. Even today our ancestor’s memory is still strong. But because I am the eldest I shall be wed first, and I will be fifteen next month, sisters. I think it is time for me to be matched. Most girls are wed younger than fifteen. Da just doesn’t want to let us go.”
Junia’s tears faded away. “I did hear our da speaking with the lady Argel about matches a few days ago,” she said innocently.
Maia’s arms dropped from about her sibling. “What did my mother and our father say?” she demanded to know.
“There were no names spoken,” Junia replied.
“But what did they say?” Averil pressed her little sister. “They had to have said something that piqued your curiosity, Junia, else you should not have mentioned it.”
“They said the time had come to consider marriages for you both. Father said he would follow the example of our prince, the Great Llywelyn, and seek among the Marcher lords for suitable husbands for you. That’s all that I heard. I swear!”
“What did my mother reply?” Maia wanted to know.
“She agreed. Nothing more. You know your mother, Maia. She is so kind and soft-spoken. It is rare that she disagrees with our father. My mother says we are fortunate in her for another wife might not be so thoughtful of her husband’s concubines, or allow them to live in the keep with the lady and her children,” Junia finished.
“My mother says if the lady Argel had been able to bear her children sooner we might not be here at all,” Averil remarked. Then she turned her attention again to the prospect of a husband. “We must listen more closely, sisters,” she told them, “for we shall be told nothing before it is engraved in stone. We shall have to learn everything for ourselves.”
The three heads nodded solemnly in agreement.
Several days later, however, Averil overheard something that displeased her greatly. Her father was considering making a match for Maia first because she was his legitimate daughter. Never before had Averil Pendragon known her sire to put one of his children above the other, no matter their birthright. And worse! He would make no overtures towards any family until Maia was fifteen, which was a whole year away. I will be sixteen by then, Averil considered, and too old for a good match. She sighed, and began to think what she could do, but she could think of nothing. She kept this knowledge from her sisters, but she did speak with her mother, Gorawen.
Gorawen was as beautiful as her daughter was. They shared the same pale golden hair, and fair skin. But Gorawen’s eyes were silver in color, and Averil’s were the light green of her father’s. All of the Dragon Lord’s daughters had green eyes. “You were right to come to me,” Gorawen said. “Your father can wait no longer to match you with a husband. You are more than old enough, but if you must tarry until Maia is wed, who knows how old you may be. Certainly too old to attract a good match. I will not allow your beauty to be wasted on some insignificant family!”
“He has never before put her before me,” Averil said, her tone irritable.
Gorawen laughed softly, and patted her daughter’s hand. “He has always been more than fair with you all, and Argel too, but this is different, Averil. There is no avoiding