Today we thrilled to be able to share an exclusive excerpt from LE FAY by Sophie Keetch!

Le Fay is the sequel to Sophie Keetch’s debut Arthurian retelling Morgan is My Name, and is out today! You can check out Beth’s review of Morgan here, or read her interview with Sophie here.

Before we dive into the excerpt, let’s check out the official synopsis:

The second instalment in the feminist retelling of the story of the formidable and misunderstood villainess Morgan le Fay, nemesis of the sorcerer Merlin.

‘They should fear me, the power I possessed, and the bright, ravenous rage that now fuelled my every breath… Even I did not know what I was capable of.’

Lady Morgan surveys her life at Camelot: she is safe, valued for her intelligence, and has the love and respect of her brother King Arthur, despite a growing conflict with Queen Guinevere.

It’s not enough. For, between the strict rules of court, a vengeful husband determined to snatch their son away, and a jealous rival in sorcerer Merlin, Morgan desires freedom. And when a face from her past arrives, igniting old memories and new desires, the future she is planning becomes fraught with danger.

Morgan must break the shackles of expectation to seek true happiness. In doing so, she discovers dark new powers that promise control of her life is within reach. But it’s at the risk of destroying everything…

Le Fay is published today, 18th July. You can order your copy HERE

Le Fay

‘What happened, Arthur?’ I asked. ‘I trust you, but you have to trust me. Why did you leave?’

Arthur eased upright, rotating his neck. ‘Merlin,’ he said. ‘He summoned me.’

I knew it, I thought. Who else but Merlin would Arthur run to, alone and at the slightest demand? Who else would absorb him for days, then send my brother back fogged and exhausted, with vicious headaches scraping around his skull?

I swallowed my unease. ‘To what end?’

He looked up, eyes sudden and silver, regarding me with the same searching scrutiny as in the Great Hall.

‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘You are the right one … the only one.’

Before I could question him, he helped me to my feet and guided us across the room to a shadowy side table, upon which was a long, rectangular object in red-and-white cloth folded thick as a tomb lid. With great care, Arthur picked it up and turned to face me.

‘Please, remove the casings,’ he said, and I obeyed, unwinding the layered fabric. My fingers brushed the edge of something both hard and soft, and a rush of pleasure surged up my arms, glittering into my head like a shooting star.

I gasped, but Arthur didn’t notice, his attention fixed upon the
uncovered object. Across his palms lay a sleek longsword, sheathed in a jewelled scabbard. The hilt was pure gold and so bright it illuminated our darkened corner, as if sunlight had been forged into the metal. The pommel bore an inlaid image of a crown, the arcing golden crossguard carved with bold lettering that looked ancient as the land itself, but no language I had ever learned.

In one flashing movement, Arthur wrapped his hand around the grip and unsheathed the sword, revealing a shining silver blade, double edges singing of their fineness. It too seemed to contain its own light, only cooler, sharper, like the moon cutting across a lake. He tilted the weapon back and forth, its chill radiance shimmering across his face. It could not have been a new sight to him, yet he seemed transfixed by the starry steel’s sheer presence.

‘Last week,’ he said, ‘I met Merlin beyond the city gate. We travelled far and long, until he brought me to a lake crowded by trees and engulfed in mist, so large I could not see beyond it. So deep, he said, that no man could enter it without meeting certain death. We waited awhile, then the most remarkable thing happened. A woman’s arm rose from the water, brandishing a sword – this sword.’

He sighed and lowered the blade. ‘It sounds too fantastical,
I know.’

‘Not to me,’ I assured him. ‘Go on.’

‘The mist obscured the sight, but when it cleared again, a young woman stood in the middle of the lake, bearing the sword and scabbard in her hands. She was exceedingly beautiful, her hair alive like the sunset. Everything about her seemed to shine.’

Ninianne, of course; Merlin’s unfathomable fairy companion. I had not seen her for almost a decade, but our last encounter on Tintagel’s headland lived on in my mind. In one conversation she had told me the truth about Accolon’s abandonment and lied through her teeth about Arthur’s existence. She vehemently rejected the idea of being Merlin’s tool, yet did all his bidding. To know of her was to understand nothing.

‘She walked towards me, atop the water,’ Arthur continued. ‘Like a holy miracle, a myth of old, like …’

‘Magic,’ I murmured.

My brother smiled. ‘I knew you would understand.’

Only too well, I thought. I could see it: this endless lake; the billowing mist; Ninianne’s slow, captivating movements; the otherworldly glow from her skin.

‘When she reached us,’ Arthur continued, ‘she handed me the sword and spoke as if we were long acquaintances. I felt we had met somehow, but it cannot be – I would remember such a face. Then she vanished back into the mist. When I asked Merlin, he told me only that she is known as the Lady of the Lake.’

Typical of the sorcerer, to withhold for the illusion of mystery, but I would not keep his secrets.

‘You have met her, in a way,’ I said. ‘Her name is Ninianne. She delivered our mother of you, and helped Merlin carry you off.’

It struck Arthur less than I thought it would. ‘Merlin said she was important to my past and future. Thereafter, he would speak of nothing but the sword.’

He lifted the weapon again, turning his wrist; it glowed cold between us, lustrous and deadly. Arthur gazed at the blade as Narcissus beheld his reflection.

‘What about the sword?’ I asked.

‘Its name is Excalibur. Merlin says it is the finest sword in existence, and I am destined to wield it. It cuts through iron as if it were flesh, never loses its edge and holds untold power. Is it not beautiful?’

There was certainly something about this Excalibur that held Arthur rapt, but the radiating pull I felt came from the jewelled scabbard in his left hand, a siren song I could not ignore. I reached out, wanting badly to touch it again.

Arthur smiled. ‘Of course, my clever sister. You would succeed where I failed.’

He placed the scabbard in my hands. In contrast to the sword’s relative simplicity, it dazzled with luxury: thick pale leather ridged with emeralds and rubies between starbursts of sapphire and diamond. I was ready for it this time, so the cascade of light did not stun, but bathed me in its lucent goodness, sending waves of tranquil power through my body. It was as if I was being remade anew: stronger, confident, vital. Invincible.

‘At the lake,’ he said, ‘Merlin asked me which of the two I deemed more important. Naturally, I said the sword – it is the symbol of a knight’s life, a king’s, how we protect what we love and shape the world to our will. Nevertheless, I was wrong. The scabbard is by far the more important of the two, and you knew it at once.’

‘It’s a marvel, singing with life and power. The jewels must be enchanted.’ I ran my fingertips between the gemstones. ‘No – the leather. Anyone who wears this would be protected better than any armour.’

Arthur beamed with brotherly pride. ‘Your wisdom is endless. The hide is suffused with old magic, more ancient and complex than even Merlin can explain. He who wears it cannot bleed from wounds and is healed as he stands. In plain terms, this scabbard is worth ten Excaliburs.’

‘An object that prevents death itself,’ I said in wonder. ‘I can feel it.’

Le Fay is published today, 18th July. You can order your copy HERE