“You are following me,” I whisper.

  He closes the distance between us, and I see that he’s not old like I imagined. The shaved head gives the impression of age, but he’s not yet middle aged. In a flash of motion, his hand reaches out, faster than a snake, creeping under my tunic and into my breeches. Before I can cry out, before I can shriek or slap him away, his hand emerges.

  He holds Ffanci’s moonstone in his hand. It glows a pale white.

  “Your talisman,” he says.

  I gape at it. “How is it doing that?”

  He holds the stone to his mouth and murmurs something, and I stumble forward as if someone shoved me from behind. Then I’m left breathless, doubling over, panting. When he lowers his hand, the rock swirls with pinks and reds and a dark cloud that crosses over the other colors before disappearing behind them.

  “This is where you store the excess energy.”

  I shiver, a chill rolling over me. “Where did it come from?”

  “From you. You are summoning the energy. All I did was open the conduit.”

  I shake my head, wanting to deny it, but something is happening to me. Something unfamiliar.

  He whispers to the rock again, but this time when he holds it out to me, the surface has gone dull and flat. The beautiful shimmering colors are gone.

  “Wait—what did you do?” I ask, alarmed.

  “I’ve stopped the magic. So you will have no more explosive outbursts.”

  “You’ve blocked it?” The thought of not being able to access the magic leaves me feeling vulnerable and exposed. “So I can’t use it?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I’ve simply put a dam on it so you can only access a small amount at a time. You draw it to you at an impressive rate. Until you learn to channel it effectively, you could cause an infinite amount of damage.”

  Channel it. That’s what Ffanci said.

  “How do I channel it?” I ask.

  “Now that the conduit is open, the gurek will store themselves in the stone. Eventually, when you are trained, you won’t need the stone at all. You’ll be able to store the gurek within your body.”

  And then I realize that we stand here discussing magic as casually as if we spoke of the changing of the season. I snatch the moonstone back from him.

  “I can’t stay here. They’ll kill me if they find me using magic.”

  “Yes, they will.” He studies me with somber eyes. “So don’t let them find you.”

  “I’m not staying!”

  His eyes glow golden for a moment, and I stare at him, startled.

  “The magic brought you here for a purpose,” he says.

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  “Nothing brought me here,” I whisper, but I don’t believe it.

  I didn’t intend to arrive here.

  Something called me here.

  A horse whinnies, and I jerk my head up worried one of the patrols of soldiers found me.

  But I know this chestnut-colored horse with strong legs and a soft muzzle.

  Prince Madoc’s.

  He approaches me and pushes his nose into my face.

  “You came back to me,” I whisper. “I thought I’d never see you again after I left you in the courtyard.”

  He snorts and turns away to nibble at the grass.

  I turn back toward the man, but he’s gone. Disappeared as if he never was.

  Goosebumps prickle my flesh.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whisper to the horse, taking his reins. “Find a safe place for us.”

  At my words, the gurek suddenly descend from the foliage and coalesce into a rippling ribbon of energy. They start at my feet and form a path in front of me.

  Back into Caerleon.

  No. I refuse. I will choose my own destiny. “I can’t,” I say. “They hate magic. The king is cruel and ruthless. I can’t stay.”

  The path doesn’t waver.

  I turn away from it and tug the horse the opposite direction. He plods along after me, but each step feels heavier, my heart sinking with each breath.

  The horse grunts, bucks his head, and pulls the rein out of my fingers. I swivel, but he’s already cantering back toward the village.

  I exhale, because I know I’m going to follow.

  “Why have you brought me here?” I demand of the gurek.

  I get no response. But each step toward Caerleon fills me with purpose, a determination carving out the darkness in my heart.

  Determination to do what?

  The horse pauses to wait for me.

  The horse master. I have a horse, and that’s the only direction I’ve been given.

  I’ll take it.

  I lead the horse through the lower town and continue through the gates to the upper town, determined this time to find the house of Anarawd.

  “Excuse me,” I say, stopping at a merchant's cart. Not the same one I tore apart. I make a conscious effort not to glance at it.

  The merchant barely spares me a look. “Yes, boy?”

  I exhale, relieved I’m able to draw enough magic to maintain my illusion. I lift my chin. “Could you direct me toward the house of Anarawd?”

  The merchant gives me a closer look, squinting slightly. His gaze turns to the horse, whose reins I clutch in my hands.

  “Two streets over. Go around the corner and you'll see the two-story house. It’s the only one on that street. He has a horse run behind with pigs in the yard.”

  “Thank you.” I turn away from him.

  I feel his eyes on my back. My speech and dress make it evident I’m not from this kingdom. But I’m a boy. I’m protected in my disguise.

  I spot the house before I even get to the street. It towers above the cottages in front of it. When I round the corner, I see that the building takes up several lots, which allows Anarawd the room he needs for the horses and pigs. A second gate in the palisades opens to the horse run, giving the king and his men access to Master Anarawd’s horses from within the upper courtyard.

  Anarawd is not just a man of means. The king trusts him enough to share an unguarded border.

  I square my shoulders. Leading Prince Madoc’s horse by the bit, I step over the water and rubbish streaming down the cobblestone in front of the house and knock on the door. It opens moments later, revealing a man with white hair and brightly colored clothing.

  “Sir Anarawd?” I say.

  He looks down his nose at me and speaks crisply. “No. What do you wish with him?”

  Oh. Of course his rank is high enough to have a servant to greet strangers at the door. “Cadwyn from the lower town sent me.” I glance down at my tunic. My ripped shift is visible beneath it, and dirt splotches the breeches she let me borrow. Oh Gods! My face must be a tear-stained mess also. I imagine streaks down my dirty cheeks. “She said he might have employment for me. I’ve brought my horse also.” I shake the reins, putting as much bravado as possible in my voice and hoping it will make me more credible.

  The man sniffs as if I smell odd, though nothing smells worse than the pigs beside the house. “What is your name?”

  “Am—” I begin out of pure habit before I bite my tongue. “Myrddin,” I say, sticking with the name I gave Cadwyn.

  “Myrddin?” He says the word as if it tastes bad. “What sort of name is that?”

  So he thinks it sounds odd also. My pulse batters in my neck. I have to make my story believable, or they’ll be building a fire for me next. “It’s a variant of Merwyn.” Stupid. That was the name I meant to choose in the first place. “My mam was feeling creative.”

  My chest tightens when I speak of her.

  “Myrddin,” he says again, as if it takes time to digest the offensive word.

  He closes the door on my face.