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FRIDA couldn't say she was surprised to see her father standing in the Great Hall, steps away from the two thrones of Camelot. She turned around and knelt before the group of children that had been following her for a day in the lower city. "I need you all to run along." The gentle command was met with an array of disappointed expressions.

Ida smiled and passed the basket of baked goods she'd been carrying to the oldest of the group. "I'll make it up to you all tomorrow, but for now go find Tristan." She sent them back the way they'd just come. Rising, Frida smoothed down her skirt and clasped her hands in front of the wide leather belt around her waist.

"Merlin," she greeted, masking her displeasure behind the decorum of a court lady.

The Wizard turned. He was happy to know she was well looked after. "Word has traveled that your skills have excelled," he noted, leaning forward on his twisted staff. The evidence of those skills had manifested in the repairs that would have taken months, if not years, to perform without an arcanist.

Her smile was forced. "Words are often nothing more than wind," Ida remarked.

Merlin gauged his daughter's unyielding expression and found himself thinking that she would make a good queen. "Why are you here?" Frida asked, tired of the back-and-forth blather.

He bowed his head. "To offer my services once again." It was a genuine offer, but Frida found it to be tainted by her resentment of him.

"I do not want your help," she gritted out, crossing her arms.

His gaze fell upon the silver bracelet on her wrist. "Yet you've already accepted it." Ida glanced down at the piece of jewelry and knew that her suspicions had come to fruition. The Wizard took her hand and ran his fingers over the stamped runes. "It was your mothers," he explained with a gentle and longing tone. "I crafted it as a way to channel her power."

Morgaine had been an extraordinary arcanist, but she kept her powers a secret and rarely exercised them to their true potential. It should have been Morgaine that taught Frida the ways, but Vortigern and his men had slaughtered them all. Upon learning of his beloved's death, Merlin had been wrought with anger. She had the ability to save herself and smite down Vortigern and his puppets. Instead, she had sacrificed herself to ensure her daughters would live.

In time, the Wizard would tell Frida more about the mother she had no memory of. "Three days, Frida," he told her in a soft tone tinged with sadness. "Three days and three nights. That is all it would take for me to show you."

Ida measured his words carefully but gave no response. Instead, she kindly asked the Wizard to show himself out. 

The echo of swords clashing together filled the gardens. Camelot had a traditional training yard, but Blue and Arthur preferred the small space between the apple and pear trees of the garden.

Ida took a seat beneath the shade of one of the apple trees and watched the two scuffle. In truth, she was trying to forget the offer that Merlin had made. Eydís had spoken of her training by Merlin's hand. She had gone to the Darklands, and it had taken months before she could call herself a Mage. An orb of light grew within one of Frida's palms, she juggled it between both her hands while watching Art and Blue.

Blue swung his blunt sword as hard as he could, but Art countered the stroke and stepped back. Praising the boy's form. That didn't stop the seeds of frustration from being planted at having never landed a single blow against Arthur. The boy stepped back, dropped his sword, and then charged toward the King before he could raise the sword in defense.

The impact knocked Arthur off balance and to his bum, and then Blue was atop him and they were both laughing. Frida smiled. It was good to see Blue happy. After a few minutes of roughhousing, the two parted and rose.

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