CHAPTER 11
Lev stretched out on the soft mattress, feeling the slight prickle of feather quills against his skin. There was the sour taste of sickness in his mouth, but at least he felt clean after his warm bath. He moistened his lips with his tongue, remembering the drink Lancelot had brought him.
‘Syrup of poppies to ease the pain and help you sleep.’ Lancelot had supported his head, making sure he drank every honeysweet drop of it. It had tasted like lolly water but the cramps had eased and he was beginning to feel a little better. He closed his eyes, trying to sort out what Meg had told him. When they’d first arrived he’d been too sick to make much sense of all those knights and the king and queen and everything. In fact he’d thought he must be on some sort of movie set. But Meg had
