The moon is high, sacred darkness claiming the land. There are few clouds, so that a silvery light descends upon the surface of the lake. The water slips and slides in small undulations beneath it, moving in the wake of a scurrying water vole, or the sleepy paddling of slumbering birds that rest upon it for safety. The air smells fresh, cool, yet with the warmth of decay as reeds and rushes begin to die back for another year. From the woods, I can hear my sister owls, cutting the night air with their sharp screeches, or wooing one another with their breathy calls. And now there is something else. My eyes work better without the harsh sun to hurt them, so that I am able to see the darkening shadows forming on the lake, near the center. I steady my own thudding heart and wait. The silky water does not stir, but I sense a presence. My skin tingles, my pulse grows stronger, louder. I feel a coolness cloak me. She is near. I feel the immense weight of her beneath the surface and my soul dances to know that I am in her company again!

‘Seren?’

The voice behind me is as unexpected as it is unwelcome. Even as I wheel around I know that the connection is broken. I hear a low rumble from deep within the lake, fading as it swiftly moves away, and I know that she is gone. I frown at my visitor. He may have donned a monk’s robe to disguise himself, but his height and regal bearing give him away to any with the wit to look at him properly. I dip my head, irritation at this interruption preventing me from showing further deference.

‘My Prince,’ I say, and then, ‘You are welcome,’ even though he is not. Not at this moment.

‘I cannot fool you, can I Seren?’ He smiles, pushing back the hood of his habit.

‘I would not be worthy of the name ‘seer’ if I could be so easily blinded to the truth.’

‘Indeed.’ He steps forward. He stands close now. When he speaks again I can feel his breath upon my cheek. ‘I wished to come sooner, but, well … I have been much occupied.…’ He waves a hand, vague and apologetic.

‘It is the business of a prince to calm his subjects when they are agitated.’

‘They ask me questions for which I have no answer.’

‘You know the Mercian army stand ready to threaten us at any time. You were quick to tell me this is not news.’

‘Queen Aethelflaed will bide her time yet.’ He shakes his head. ‘She herself is much occupied.’

‘Making trysts with Vikings?’

‘Trysts. War. One or the other. Both at once. Her plans change direction at the lightest breeze it seems, but that is to our favor. We are not, for the moment, her main concern.’