Columbine stood sharply, pushing back her chair with her calves.

‘Where are you going?’ said Bellina. ‘Don’t make a scene.’

The girl from Vellion ignored her; she was already on her way to confront Merlin and Lady Helen, to find out what they had plotted against her. She strode towards the high table, sweeping past Sir Breuse and Sir Garlon.

‘You two,’ she barked as she went. ‘Yes, you two.’

Merlin and the Lady of Slates turned towards her. The wizard was hunched over the table, his oily eyes swirling the colour of sparks. The blood-witch was red in the face from too much drink, she had a lazy languor in her eyes.

‘What are you two plotting, eh?’

She was passing the astonished king and queen when someone roughly grabbed her wrist and spun her round. Columbine found herself bound by Sir Garlon’s strong arms, and though she struggled, she could not release herself.

King Pellam stared at her furiously. It was fine for knights to be as rowdy as they pleased, but it was another thing for a woman to cause a stir. The great hall fell nearly silent as the assembly turned to see what the king would do to the impertinent young woman in the scarlet dress.

‘My apologies, your majesty,’ said Sir Garlon, getting in before the king could say anything. ‘I fear she is unused to strong drink. I take full responsibility.’

Merlin broke into a delighted grin as he watched the scene play out. The king did not look at all pleased. He consulted the food still left on his fingers, as if he would find his response there.

‘Control your woman, Sir Garlon,’ King Pellam said gravely.

‘I will, your majesty,’ said Garlon, as he dragged Columbine away from the high table.

‘She has quite a temper on her, Garlon,’ said Sir Breuse as they passed him. ‘You might want to beat that out of her before you take her to wife.’

Sir Garlon laughed politely at the Marble knight’s jest, and continued down the side of the great hall, towards the main door.

‘That unpleasantness brings our feast to its close,’ Columbine heard King Pellam announce. ‘Join us shortly, for the traditional presentation of the champion of the lower lists, and the eve of tourney dancing.’

They reached the exit, where Sir Bagdamegus was giving the servants their instructions for clearing the hall for dancing, and brushed past them into the grand foyer.

As soon as they were out of sight Sir Garlon threw Columbine against a wall. She tried to launch herself back at his face, but couldn’t get purchase with her unfamiliar shoes. He raised his fist, and she held herself back.

‘What do you think you’re doing, girl?’ he hissed. ‘You’ll ruin everything.’ He grabbed her bare arm. ‘Come with me.’

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘I’m doing as I promised,’ said the knight Invisible. ‘I’m going to prove that I did not murder Lily of Vellion.’

Columbine gave up her struggle. There was no way she could tear her hand away from Garlon’s strong grip; she would have to trick him into releasing her.

‘You make it more difficult,’ said Sir Garlon. ‘Now that she’s noticed you we’ll have to hide you away.’

‘Who?’ said Columbine angrily. ‘The lady of the Slates?’

Sir Garlon sighed. ‘What would lady Helen know of your cousin’s murder? I mean the lady Neave of the lake.’

He led her up several flights of stairs, and down more than one passageway until they came to a finely carved door.

They entered a candlelit retiring room, finely furnished with cushions and wall hangings. There were a number of goblets on a side-table, together with several stoppered bottles. Garlon pulled back an arras that depicted the Trojans dragging the wooden horse in through their city’s gates, and pushed Columbine behind it.

‘Wait here,’ he said, his point thrown like a punch. ‘Stay still. Stay silent. Listen carefully.’ His face bunched in rage. ‘If you so much as move, girl...’

Columbine stared back at him defiantly. He wasn’t going to scare her.

‘Do you understand?’

‘Aye,’ Columbine said, with what she decided was careless control. She could see that she was riling him, and was enjoying it.

He let the tapestry drop in front of her, leaving her in almost complete darkness. Only a very small amount of soft candlelight crept behind the arras to keep her company. She was squeezed into about a foot of space between the wall and the back of the hanging. The door of the retiring room opened and slammed shut again. Columbine thought about finding her way back to Garlon’s chamber, knocking his squire on the head, and stealing his invisible armour. Just as she had resolved to follow this course of action, however, the door opened again.

‘Your girl is most amusing,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘She was the one spirited thing at a most underwhelming feast.’

‘Indeed, my lady,’ said Sir Garlon. ‘I hoped she might appeal to you. I understand that you Ladies of the Lake have a different taste in girls’ behaviour compared to the general run of the world.’

‘Compared to men, you mean?’ said the woman wryly.

‘I would say compared to the codes that obtain in those parts of the world ruled by men. My own tastes are perhaps closer to yours than you might imagine, Lady Neave.’

‘I sincerely doubt that, sir knight. I have heard of your loves; those you’ve lost and those you’ve ended.’

Columbine’s heart pounded in her chest. That certainly didn’t sound like proof that Garlon had not hurt Lily. She heard the plump of a bottle being unstoppered, and drink being poured.

‘Will you join me, madam?’

‘I will,’ said Lady Neave. ‘I have developed a taste for wine in my old age.’

‘Madam, you look as lovely as you ever did. Lovelier.’

‘Your spiked tongue charms, Sir Garlon. I am surprised your flattery did not win you that silly girl of Vellion. Sit, please.’

Cushions were turned, and Columbine heard the two settle themselves.

‘It is of the girl of Vellion I wish to speak,’ said Garlon.

‘I understand she’s dead; what more is there to say?’

‘Words on the delicate matter of vengeance, my lady. I am sure that you know that it was your sister’s champion, the Knight of the Ice, who killed my Lily.’

‘On the orders of my idiot sister, yes,’ sighed Neave.

Columbine clenched her fists. It was true then; Balin had been right. The youngest daughter of the Lake had been responsible for Lily’s death, not the Knight Invisible. She remembered the holy man’s words – Merlin’s words – once again: the cloak will find the back of the one responsible for her death. Columbine had never seen Lady Nemone before, but an image came before her eyes: a woman in the pigeon cloak, the Dolorous Stroke stabbing through the blood-stained tear once more.

‘Nemone is ruled by her emotions,’ the daughter of the Lake went on. ‘My younger sister is a sure sign that my mother’s powers are failing in this world. If the great Lady Nemue had listened to me when I told her so more than a decade ago, she would never have gone ahead and borne my deformed brother. He simply proved that my mother’s age is all but over. It is time for a less decrepit Lady of the Lake.’

Her brother? Columbine frowned at the reverse of the arras. She had found Lady Nemue’s son one of the least believable characters in Elia’s fanciful story of Avalon, but here was confirmation of his existence from Lady Neave herself.

‘You honour me with your candour, madam,’ said Sir Garlon.

‘If you repeat a word of this outside this room, I will drown you in your sleep, Sir Garlon, no matter where you are.’

‘Of course, my lady.’

Columbine had never heard the Knight Invisible intimidated before; the girl from Vellion enjoyed listening to the fear Lady Neave inspired in him. There was a pause as Garlon directed his thoughts back to the original subject.

‘Simply as a courtesy, I want to inform you that I mean to face your sister’s champion in King Pellam’s tournament. I mean to have his life in return for that of Lily of Vellion.’

‘Of course, Sir Garlon; you’re welcome to try.’

‘My thanks, lady.’

‘Is that all?’

‘It is.’

‘Then you may go.’

Garlon sounded startled. ‘I thought I might have the honour of escorting you to the presentation of the champion of lower lists, Lady Neave. It is always amusing to see the triumph of the new knight before he dies first thing the next day.’

‘Amusing it may be, but you presume to think you will escort me anywhere. I have another appointment. You may go.’

‘Y-Yes, madam. Of course.’ Columbine could practically feel Sir Garlon staring at her through the arras, willing her to stay hidden until the daughter of the Lake left the room.

There was a soft knock at the door.

‘Here he is,’ said Lady Neave. ‘Let him in would you, Garlon? There’s a dear.’

Columbine heard the door open.

‘Sir Garlon,’ said new arrival.

The two men crossed the threshold in opposite directions, and the door closed again.

‘Lancelot,’ purred Lady Neave, ‘sit down, please. Will you take wine?’

Columbine’s stomach grumbled. People said that Arthur’s favourite had never taken a girl, despite every other woman throwing themselves at him. Even in secluded Vellion, they had heard the rumour that his heart belonged to King’s Arthur’s little wife. Lancelot had known Queen Guinevere when she was nothing more than the younger daughter of Leo de Grance of Cameliard. It seemed that Columbine was about to find out if the rumours of Lancelot’s purity were true, though on balance she would rather not have been the unseen audience to Lady Neave’s seduction scene.

‘I would rather not take wine, my lady,’ said the pretty knight. ‘I will stand. You wished to see me?’

Lancelot’s bland courtesy threw the lady Neave, she was clearly not used to knights turning down what she offered. When the lady spoke again she was stern.

‘I did,’ she said, ‘and you well know why. I want to know if you have found the boy.’

‘I am sorry, madam, I do not follow you. What boy?’

There was a sharp intake of breath from the lady. Columbine could barely hear her next words. ‘Last time we spoke, I asked you to find the child stolen from the village outside my mother’s lands. The baby taken as part of Arthur’s misbegotten scheme against my brother and the other May-children.’

‘I have no memory of such a request, madam, though rest assured that I will take this quest if you so wish. I would have no innocent in danger.’

‘You forgot, Lancelot?’ Columbine thought she heard desperation in Lady Neave’s voice as well as anger. ‘You forgot our child? You forgot Galahad?’ There was a tremble of tears in the terrible beauty’s voice, very far from her cool composure with Sir Garlon. ‘You promised me you would find him.’

Lancelot’s next words were spoken gently. It seemed as if he was used to this kind of situation. ‘Lady, I am sorry, but this is only in your mind. I have never lain with a woman. I cannot have had a child with you. It is not possible. Do not cry, please.’ Columbine heard Lancelot crouch before the daughter of the Lake. ‘Madam, I accept your quest. I will find this child Galahad.’

‘Mother,’ sobbed Lady Neave. ‘I will have your life for this, Mother. She has made you forget, Lancelot. She has made you forget our child.’