The Night Dance by Suzanne Weyn

very high price—could never be reproduced. It was the only thing that could have bested the power of Excalibur.
    One of the two serving women picked up the platter to take into the dining hall, and Morgan followed her to the doorway but hung back on the kitchen side as the serving woman went into the dining hall.
    Standing just out of sight, she observed the sisters taking their seats at the long dining table. As she stood there, she noticed that they were wearing shawls. It wasn’t especially chilly—so what were they up to?
    “Why are you lurking about in the doorway, Millicent?” Helen scolded as she bustled by with the braised rabbit that would be the main course that night. “Go check that the mince pie isn’t burning.”
    Morgan shot her an annoyed glance and maintained her position at the side of the doorway. The one called Rowena, the only one of them that was more than pretty, that was actually beautiful, sat slumped at the table. Lovesick, no doubt. Fool!
    Morgan grinned. What a stroke of luck it had been to have the very thing she sought come walking right into the forest.
    Excalibur!
    If she possessed Excalibur, she would not have to care what Vivienne and her twelve offspring did. And now it was so close!
    She would have believed that the handsome fellow who bore it on his hip really was a beggar—that he had stolen the sword—if she had not recognized that crippled, useless hand. The moment she had spied that, she’d known him at once. In the Welsh dialect of his hometown his name had been Bedwyr Bedrydant. It meant “Bedivere of the Perfect Sinews,” and it suited him well. It was hard to say what part of him was more delicious, that gorgeous face, with its high cheekbones and piercing eyes, or the fabulous form.
    It was a shame about the hand, but obviously what they said about him was true—being one-handed had not impaired his fighting skill. She saw that for herself today when she’d assumed the shape of a fighting boulder, a rock soldier, in order to knock Excalibur out of his hands. With a wince, she gazed down at her bruised and sliced arms, which still bore the injuries he’d dealt her when he’d hacked at her with Excalibur. She hadn’t realized what a formidable opponent he would be. With Excalibur in his hand, he was nearly unbeatable.
    She’d changed back into mouse form once he’d won the battle and had run halfway to the manor when she looked back to see him with Rowena. And, oh, how they had gazed at one another. Morgan had seen the face of love before and these two had an extreme case.Bedivere might be an able knight, but now she knew his weakness, Sir Ethan’s lovely daughter.
    She continued observing the girls all through the meal. Occasionally she pretended to busy herself with a task, but mostly she watched their every move.
    Sir Ethan was out of sorts, grumbling surly replies to their comments. The sisters, though, seemed strangely unconcerned that they were to be bolted into their room. In fact, they appeared to be nearly giddy—with the exception of Rowena.
    After dessert, Sir Ethan left his daughters under Mary’s supervision. That’s when Morgan saw what was happening. Eleanore had hidden one of the small oil lamps under her shawl and the one they called Cecily had taken another one.
    Where would they need light but in the tunnels of darkness!
    If they were going into the tunnels again, she was too. In a moment, she was once again in her mouse form.
    “Millicent!” Helen shouted in an exasperated voice. “Where have you gone off to now?”
    Morgan heard Helen’s voice like a banging gong and snickered in satisfaction as she darted through the dining hall, keeping close to the baseboards. Fast as she was, they left her behind with their much longer strides. When she arrived at their bed chamber, the door was shut. Mouse instinct kicked in and she realized she could squeeze through the tightest of spaces. In a second she was inside the bedchamber.
    The room was