The Last Knights of Cambria Book 5: Deaths of the Rose

Chapter 9: Same time same channel

I fall back onto the floor of Windsor castle. Complete exhausted, tears still in my eyes, and sweating profusely. The ring still curled in my palm.
Courtenay is standing above me, in all his cover-model glory, also sweating, blinking the magic from his eyes. And he says to me, and I'll never forget this, it's very very touching: "What the hell happened to you?"
"I probably shouldn't tell you? Oh, you mean this? I kind of over-dosed on magic I'm really fine," I say, stumbling to my feet. I'm back in 1433, okay, yes. I made it. I look down at my scarred hands, it's really not that bad. I don't know why people care did they look at me that much to begin with?
"Is the prince all right?" Courtenay asks, frowning a little. Of course he knows the cause for doing this, all of this. Save Prince Harry's life. Right. Now he's a Prince, not our Henry VI.
"Yes, yes, he's fine," I smile a little, softly. He's more than fine. More fine than I am.
"Well, what are we going to say to them? We have to go back in there, you've clearly been injured," Courtenay says, urgently.
"Oh, we're going to say we got in a fight and it's your fault, because that's completely believable of the two of us," I say, nodding helpfully.
"Why would we have gotten in a fight? Also I'm not hurt—," he says and I punch him directly in the face. He's so stunned by the move and drained from our spell, he has no way to react and just staggers back. I'm sure no one has ever punched him in the pretty face before.
"That's for cursing Elis all his life," I say, shaking out my fist.
"One of these days, Saint," Courtenay snarls, the usual venom in his piercing blue eyes. Ah, it's good to be home.
"I know I know, insert evil-bad-guy threat, whatever," I say, waving a hand, "Go on, you know you deserved that."
We are spared further argument by the people in the room coming out to see what was taking so long. It's probably been about five minutes, (for me of course it's been like three days), but one of the people is impatient and used to getting what he wants.
Ah, Henry V. Henry Roi, Henry Rex, Hammer of the Gauls, Henry the goddamn Fifth, over the last year and a half of my adventures he's made himself the bane of my existence. I'd like to say that I missed him over the last few days, but honestly the ostentatious statues of him that he had positioned strategically around Dover, definitely kept me company. I realize there was only one, but that was one too many. I am not going to forget what he looks like. Unreasonably tall, with ruddy skin, and dark hair peppered with grey, a cruel smile usually haunting his lips, fit and just indescribably powerful. He's something like comforting if he's on your side, but Henry is always only on Henry's side.
"What's happened—Archbishop are you alright?" Henry asks, checking Courtenay who looks lightly like he's been smacked in the face. For situational reference, I'm also right here looking like I got struck by lightening.
Oisin, my Irish friend, is worried about that. I've only known him for like a week, but this is my life we're talking about it's been a pretty involved week. Oisin is followed by the spirit of his father, Fionn MacCumhail, an immortal warrior very cool guy who kind of doesn't like me despite me minding my own business and not doing wrong things.
"Gideon, what happened?" Oisin comes over to me.
"We got in a fight," I say, shaking my fist a little, that did hurt.
"Yes, he didn't want to surrender the artifact so I took it from him—it's unable to be used now," Courtenay says, adjusting his fur-lined coat and making a quick hand gesture to Henry. Their own secret code, that one I'm pretty sure stands for 'I'll tell you all later if the Welsh boy dies in your next scheme it's fine'. Okay, maybe not the last bit but they do have hand signals.
"Here," I say, taking off my own ring and holding it out, while still hold the other one in my other palm. I'll keep it for sentimental reasons. I hold out my ring to Fionn. Of course the spell is quite ended. Henry VI surrendered the ring to me so it's over.
"Yes, so, mission accomplished," Courtenay says, like he was in control of the situation, "We have no need of Gideon anymore."
"You're dismissed then," Henry says, to me, eyes flashing. He knows this isn't over and he suspects trickery. Good.
"I'll be seeing you," I say, to Oisin. He ducks his head, well aware he needs to stay with his father. I drop my iron ring into his hand. He can use it to come and join us in Wales once this is finished.
"Your Majesty, I'm glad to have been of service," I say, to Henry, duplicit jerk I forgot I'm still mad at him. That was a nice two minutes. Provoking war with Ireland to find out the Fianna is real, really Henry?
Henry nods his head to me a little, eyes lingering on my face. We both know we'll be seeing each other again. We're probably mutually hoping it isn't soon.
And I make my way out of Windsor palace. I know my way around, really well, by now. Hazard of being chased through it more than once. It's late at night now and I'm quite tired, but sort of oddly content. As Courtenay said, mission accomplished.
"Gideon!"
"Your Highness," I turn, tears in my eyes, to look at the yes, eleven year old, perfectly healthy, Henry VI. As he said. I'll see you in a few minutes. A smile on his sweet face, gold curls fluffy and bouncing as he hops from the darkness, clutching a bible. He ceases smiling when he sets eyes on me, though.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" He asks, nearly sobbing in sympathy.
"No, no, I'm fine, I promise—I was doing—something stupid with Courtenay, you can ask him I'm sure he has a fine explanation," I laugh, kneeling so that he can see the scars.
"That's awful!" Little Prince Henry says, chewing his lip. He touches my face delicately with his finger tips, "Are you sure you're unhurt?"
"It's just magic. I'm not hurt. At all. And I would not change it. Not for a moment," I say, looking at his cherubic face. Gentle as always, and kind. Kind to a strange wizard who isn't even supposed to be in his house.
"Are you off home now?" He asks, frowning.
"Yes. I'm going back to Wales tonight," I say, "But I'll be seeing you again. Soon I'm sure."
"Good. You're always welcome here in London," he smiles kindly, "Are you sure you're well?"
"I swear to you. I am entirely, well. In fact, I don't know if I've ever been better," I say, smiling.
He hugs me, quickly, around the shoulders, whispering in my ear, "May the Lord bless you and keep you."
"Thank you, your grace," I say, dipping my head to hide the tears.
"I'll pray for your safe travels," he says, patting the top of my head.
"Thank you, dear prince," I say, bowing again.
He waves to me, and then goes back on his way to his room, with presumably a different bible than he had before. I shake my head a little, and walk on. Back out to the gardens. I gave up my amulet to Oisin, so, I'm going to go home the quick way, my way.
I raise my hand, and white hot magic pours out, and the dragon rips readily from my skin. I smile as it takes shape in the darkness, swooping around once before landing before me.
"Ready to go home?" I ask, pressing my face against it's scales.