I was having the most delicious, indulgent dream. I was dancing with Sephy, one of the only women from my past life I had been deeply fond of. She was, in a rare, if not unique, turn of events, fond of me as well. We danced in a ballroom, coming close enough that my teachers would have chided me for indecency.

  The warmth of the Ban household must have brought out memories of old. This dream was a twisted memory of the last time we had a chance to see each other before letters became our sole means of communication. Letters of carrying words beyond polite friends and delving deep into courtship. A fiction that gave us an excuse to talk while, hiding our coded messages.

  Part of the reason I held Sephy so dear was our mutual hatred of the Harkleys. If the crystal stopper failed, at least Sephy had gained some of my insights. I enjoyed the memory, the way her blood red hair brushed my face, matching the red that coloured her full lips, her sharp eyes twitching with amusement, all adding much context to why I held her so dear.

  Sephy was the one thing I wanted to hold from my past life. A flame I didn’t want to see snuffed out. She had been a pillar of support, and without her, I fear I might have slipped into madness. If I had one goal now I was free, it was to find her. To explore what we could be.

  I stepped away from her as the dance demanded, and the dream began to change. There was nothingness behind me. I fell, a sickening sense of being untethered spreading through me as the ballroom faded away.

  Something was wrong. I, like all children of houses of renown, was taught to spot the meddling of the dream-gifted. Fighting it was beyond me, but I could at least sense the change from a natural dream to something else.

  I crashed onto a carpet of grass. There was no pain, just a muted shock throughout my body. Blinking, I realised I had landed right beside Lancelot, who scrambled away from me in shock.

  “I was having a lovely dream. Was this really necessary?”

  “Is a dream with me so unpleasant?” That voice was familiar. I pushed myself up onto my elbows and found the Lady of the Lake smiling down at me. She offered me a hand up, which I took as my brain threw a shoe and crashed into a fence.

  “It would likely ruffle some sensibilities if we pursued the actions I was considering in that dream in this. One of the rare times I would not be keen on an audience,” I quipped before I could stop myself. A habit of making jokes when I panic, would some day get me in trouble,

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She winked at me, her face the most human it had ever seemed. I felt my blood stir and did my best to ignore it, cursing whatever oddity in my mind caused my lust to be aroused by powerful and dangerous women. “I appreciate your time though, and I assure you, you’ll get to see your muse again soon once you help me with a task.”

  That assurance sent a tingle down my spine. What did she mean by that? The fae didn’t lie, couldn’t lie assuming their powers were like mine. Did that mean I’d return to the dream, or I would meet her in real life. I nearly asked something, but stopped myself. Answers came with a cost. Besides, we had an audience.

  “I am wounded that you think my mind would be on others while in your fine company, my Lady.” I bowed even as I banished the last of my frustrations and desires.

  “Are you actually flirting with the Lady of the Lake?” Lancelot was staring at me, utterly baffled.

  “Be quiet, daughter. Don’t talk to the changeling.” Elaine was also here? I spotted her on the other side of the lake. That was a surprise. I could imagine Lancelot being foolish enough to poke into my past, but I thought better of Elaine.

  “Oh no, you didn’t try and look into me, did you? I did specifically say not to.”

  “No, they were quite respectful, Taliesin. They just wanted to know if their guest had brought any unwanted attention to their home. Their question was nicely circumspect. Unfortunately, you have performed in strange circles I keep an ear out for—potential critics.”

  “And I’m here for what, my Lady? How can I help apart from explaining I’m not a changeling? Wait. I’m not a changeling, am I?” I asked, a seed of doubt suddenly growing. Being a changeling would make my Death gift seem like a rash compared to the Pox.

  “Taliesin, do not fear. Your name was given freely. It is yours forevermore. It does make it easier for me to watch over you and has a few constraints as well as advantages, some of which you’ve already uncovered. But your mind and fate are your own. I admit to using it to bring you here because I wish to converse with these two, but they insist on being so very worried I shall bind them or otherwise control them. You know I’m not so cruel.” The Lady smiled as she mentioned constraints, likely sensing the squall of rage within me. I put that aside and assessed her request.

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  “So, I’m here as a sort of interpreter, am I? Well, I’m pleased to be of assistance, and to not be a changeling. What wisdom and witticisms do you wish for me to impart?”

  “Oh, Lady of the Lake, please let us know what we can do to be safe this night.” Elaine finally spoke up, clearly still very suspicious of the whole situation. Lancelot was just staring at me, beset by bafflement.

  “Help me with her first.” The Lady sighed.

  “I shall call you Oracle for our talk. You must understand that you are in a presence deeply beyond you. Keep your wits about you, but I assure you that it is in your best interest to not act this way. If the Lady guarantees your safety, then you have it. Is there something that would placate you?”

  “I would feel most at ease if she permitted my daughter to leave.”

  “That won’t work. It is her I wish most to speak to. Our conversation is happening because I wish to see Ban’s daughter for myself and see out a debt long-standing. Considering the source of her recently revealed gifts, I thought she’d be most pleased.” The Lady just watched me. Of the jobs I’d expected after resurrection, a mouthpiece of one of the great Fae was not among them. Elaine looked nonplussed by the response.

  “Taliesin.”

  “Daughter, no names!”

  “I think that ship has long sailed, Oracle.” I heard the Lady laugh, a tinkling noise that made my Hearth quiver.

  “Taliesin, I request you relay my request to understand how she can speak my father’s name. I wish to know the price of such information and be free to decline it if it is too great.” Lancelot’s artful request surprised me. It should not have—she had been like that at dinner, crafting a question designed to get a rise out of me.

  “A clear request, Squire. My Lady, the Squire—”

  “I have ears, consider it relayed. Oh, sometimes reputation is such a burden. Taliesin, please tell the daughter of Ban that, as I keep stressing, this conversation is under the auspices of a long-held debt that I owe Ban and his kin. Our conversation this eve will demand nothing of them, and if our discussion is likely to draw significantly on the debt, I shall warn them. This stands for both her and the Oracle.”

  I cut Lancelot off as she went to speak. I could see Elaine about to yell again. “I shall repeat that for peace of mind, despite your functioning ears, Squire.”

  After I repeated the terms, Lancelot bowed and turned to her mother. “Thank you, Taliesin, and thank you, Lady. Oracle, is this acceptable?”

  “Yes, I apologise for my earlier conduct. I seek only to protect my daughter.”

  “A noble goal. Now we must speak. Taliesin, please return and tell Ban not to worry. His family will wake tomorrow unharmed by this little misadventure. Also, please do tell him I am proud of the man he has become.”

  “Of course, my Lady. Can I just…” The falling sensation rushed over me again, and I cursed. I just wanted to ask a question!

  “So they’re safe, you swear?”

  “ess, I swer!” I managed to speak despite his vice-like grip on my throat. The fury of a peak Iron Knight worried about his family was no joke. He eased his grip, and I slid down the wall, choking. The considerable weight of his evil eye lay like lead on my lungs.

  “Could you settle your eye elsewhere? I may be less fussed than others, but I’m still acutely aware of your displeasure,” I asked after getting back to my feet. He grunted, and the pressure lifted. I took in a bellowing breath, free of the physical and spiritual aspects of his ire.

  Getting into the room had been tough, and just getting to this point had taken a lot of haranguing Jasper until the man finally cracked. When he did, Ban appeared full of rage and dragged me into the sanctum, ready to tear me limb from limb. He knew something had gone awry.

  We now sat in a heavily runed room. I couldn’t even guess at half the spells at play. The pair were resting on a pair of cots, both looking relaxed in their slumber.

  “She told you she was proud of me?”

  “You mentioned you were a foundling. I assume there’s more to that story.”

  “Some confusing memories which are now much clearer, both in what I remember making more sense and as if some veil has been lifted.” Ban huffed, clearly lost in thought.

  “I feel a right cur. I did not intend to bring trouble to your doorstep, and you’ve been nothing but pleasant.” I collapsed into a chair.

  “I do not blame you. If anything, I am indebted to you. It must be hard to find oneself a tool of such powerful forces.”

  “I am still myself. I was put within spitting distance of your family by her, and she relied on our natures to put us in contact. Some might rail and chafe at the idea of fate, but I know if I’d come here under my own power, I would’ve acted like this, been as I am now. It is only her choice of location that turns my bardic bumbling into destiny.”

  “She knew I liked music. She knew you would recognise the glamour, that Lance chafes at the lack of knowledge enough to show off. I see it.”

  “I doubt I am done. I suspect there are layers upon layers to her decision. Hopefully in the future, I shall bring discord to those more deserving of upset.”

  “Do not worry. This would have to happen. Better her benevolence than someone pretending to be a friend with a knife behind their back. You have my sympathy and thanks. Damnation, I shall not sleep this night. Yet staying cooped up in here leaves me feeling like a caged bear. But I must watch over them.”

  “I find myself in a similar position. I shall keep you company if you so wish.” I offered. I was annoyed to have lost the dream of Sephy, but it wasn’t going to come back for wanting.

  “You mentioned music. I am fond of an instrument that you, a man of Albion, may know. My fondness for it stems from that hazy period of my childhood.” He opened a box. He drew from it an instrument I knew only by reputation—the Land of the Woad played them. A bag with a series of flutes connected. Bagpipes, which was a fitting name.

  “May I ask why these are down here in what I took to be your inner sanctum?”

  “My neighbours don’t appreciate the playing, and playing upstairs tends to wear the privacy runes down too fast.” Ban began to inflate the bag. It sounded like someone sitting on a cat, very slowly.

  “How about we tune up first with a classic? Battle of the Cairns?”

  “A splendid idea.” I strummed and set our beat. The pipes began to sing, a mournful howl that fit the battle song well.

  “Arise, with sword and armour,

  Arise, as the war drums pound,

  Arise, for hearth and home,

  Arise, as the battle cries sound.”