The second male Fae was called Tresaith and, all things considered, was a decent lad.

That is, when you realised that all of the things that you were going to be considering were that he was older than most mountains, could bench press our entire army for fun and was so many leagues above me in cultivation that Merlin suggested I thought of him as a Rowling.

Tresaith explained that his younger brother - the unconscious wanker at my feet - was ever the hothead amongst his people. He introduced the three women, Allavan and Bessen, and -as I had thought - Orwyn, the two males' mother.

"However, do not think that what Maewyn desires is not likely to be the will of the Council. We have long learned to mistrust those from your realm."

Probably a good time, my dear, to note I may have had dealings with Tresaith before. It would be diplomatic not to mention I'm still - you know - here.

"Dealings?"

As I have alluded to before, I have a long history of, shall we say, undistinguished conduct mixed in with my acts of undoubted heroism. The curse of a long life where not enough people are strong enough to me 'no'. Safe to say, I imagine my name would do little to smooth relations right now.

Arthur was speaking. "We mean to cause you no trouble, Lord Tresaith. My fellow kings and I are on a quest for Caeldfwch."

If those words meant anything to the four conscious Fae, they did not show it. Undeterred, Arthur pressed onwards. "We have completed the Step of Blood, and we believe that by eradicating the goblin army, we will have taken the Step of Faith. Our show of good faith to you and your people."

Bessen was shaking her head. "Which leaves only the Step of Betrayal of all that is good." Her face was grim. "Maewyn was right. We should kill you where you stand."

I was feeling pretty punchy after dropping the first Fae, so I took a step forward to cover Arthur. He put a restraining hand on my arm and was about to speak when Corys - surprisingly - took over.

"We understand your hesitation, my lady. However, the people of Dehuebarch have enjoyed a positive relationship with the Fae for generations. Whilst we know of the deplorable actions of the men of the South -" the dick's eyes flicked towards Arthur - "you must acknowledge that not all from the realm of men have been so disrespectful."

Allavan was smiling. "I recognise the set of your eyes, child. I spent an enjoyable afternoon with a Leofed of Dehuebarch. Do you know the name?"

Corys blushed under the Fae's rapacious regard. "My great-grandfather, my lady. He spoke often of the beauty and the grace of the Fae lady he once met."

"We did more than meet," the Fae gave a very unladylike snort and turned her head this way and that as if she were a snake hypnotising her prey. "I wonder whether the grandson would be as diverting as the ancestor?"

"Enough," Tresaith's voice was firm. "On behalf of the Moonpool Clan, I grant you guest privileges."

Bessen hissed - again with the snakes? - but he glared her into submission. "You will accompany us back to the Council, and we will follow their lead regarding what happens next."

Beric chimed up. "You cannot believe we will simply put ourselves in the hands of creatures who have already attacked us without provocation?"

Tresaith stared at him for an unbelievably long time before replying. I've heard of a withering stare before, but it was a real fill-up to watch the venomous pile of shit be brought down to size.

When Tresaith finally spoke again, his voice lacked any of the warmth that had been there before. "Beric ap Cronan ap Dresil. We honour the men of Powys and bemoan the stain that currently sits on their throne. You inherited a distinguished history which you betray with your avarice. Your presence is suffered but not welcomed. You are not a tongued one."

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Mic drop, Merline whispered in my head.

"What does that mean?"

Tresaith's basically said none of the Moonpool will recognise his right to speak. That's pretty funny. Especially as Corys appears to be a tongued one because his ancestor . . .

"Tongued one?"

I left the opening for that one, didn't I?

"Not as much as Allavan has."

Tresaith was looking at Mark now. "Our people know of your son."

Mark's face collapsed into a ferocious frown. "I have no son."

The Fae opened his mouth to speak, but his mother took over. "Our children are reflections of our better selves, Mark of Gwynedd. Their actions are shadows of the sun we have cast over them. Just as we should feel pride for good," Orwyn smiled at Tresaith, "we must take ownership of their mistakes." She didn't exactly look down at Maewyn and roll her eyes, but we could all get on board with that being what she meant. "Tristian should shine in your eyes."

"I have no son!"

I'm pretty new at this whole diplomacy thing, but I reckon shouting at the mother of the most powerful being you've ever met shortly after his brother has just had the shit kicked out of him is probably not on page one of 'How to win friends and influence people.'

Tresaith, though, barely reacted, turning next to Owain. "We recognise your right to speak for the men of Gwent." Owain obviously did not trust himself to speak and just nodded nervously back.

Then Tresaith turned to Arthur. "Arthur ap Uther ap Constantine. You seek to be the Pendragon of your people?"

Arthur nodded. Beric and Mark visibly bristled while Corys was too busy trying to avoid Allavan's lustful stare. "Your father came to us regularly."

Uh oh, Merline whispered.

"Uh oh? What do you mean by 'uh oh'?"

"Uther made many promises and received many gifts. Some of those oaths were held, but many were not. We do not hold your father - nor his counsellor - in esteem."

"My father was a good man!" Arthur replied hotly.

"He was a man," Bessen spat. "And not to be trusted. The Council will have your head."

I drew Drynwyn casually and whistled a little tune. It might have been the theme song from Jaws. "I'm happy to go again if anyone is feeling up for it? Maybe I didn't make the lesson clear enough the first time?"

"You dare!" Bessen turned on me, fingers turning to talons.

"Listen up, buttercup. We're on a quest. As far as I can tell, the second part of that was to show you Fae fuckers we were on the level. To do that, we needed to take on an army of green shits many times outnumbering us. Lots of us died to make that show of faith. The first thing you guys did when you turned up was not to say 'thank you' but to throw hands. That's fine. I'm a big girl and I took care of business. But now we're in this ritual 'guest right' bullshit, and you're still acting like we're the bad guys. I've sat one of you on your arse so far, and I'm more than happy to keep going until we all start acting friendly like. So, I guess what I'm saying is: are you next, bitch?"

Well . . . let's see how that goes down, shall we?

There was a significant pause, followed by an extraordinary sound. The Fae were laughing.

Tresaith wiped tears from his eyes and held out his hand to me. It took me a beat to realise he wanted me to shake it. Once I did, he turned back to Arthur.

"You seem blessed with a more straightforward advisor than your father. I like her. I may decide to keep her -" Excuse me! - "For her sake, the sins of the father will not be retained by the son. You will be a tongued one." But then, all levity dropped from his expression. "But you will have no latitude. Do not play us false."

Arthur nodded back gravely. "On my word, I will not."

Tresaith turned to his mother and held her eyes. She nodded. He did the same with Allavan and Bessen. Both nodded, Bessen noticeably more reluctant than the others.

"It is decided then. We will recommend to the Council that the Moonpool Clan will not seek to impede you on your quest. We will report that you have done us service and will suggest past crimes," Tresaith's eyes flicked to Beric and Arthur, "should not inhibit current relationships."

With that, he bent down and lifted Maewyn effortlessly onto his shoulder. It was like he'd slung an empty backpack up there. This dude had game.

"I cannot promise the Council will accept what we say, but we will speak for you."

"And what happens if your Council decide we are more trouble than we are worth?"

Tresaith had already turned away and walked to the trees as Arthur spoke. Bessen replied for him. "Gather your men. We will not wait on you."

She followed Tresaith, as did Allavan - who took Corys by the hand, dragging him effortlessly behind her. I sensed he might be in for a tiring evening.

Orwyn had held back. Arthur, Owain and Mark were already issuing orders and men were hurrying back up the hill. I was sad to see quite how many still bodies were being left behind. I asked Arthur's question again to her.

"The ways of the Council can be mysterious. It may well be they rescind your guest right."

"And if they do?"

Orwyn looked at me, her face completely flawless. Seren blue eyes glinted in the daylight. "You will all be executed. But fear not."

"Hard not to let imminent death play on my mind! Why shouldn't we fear?"

"Because my son and I will die alongside you."

I took a moment, then asked the obvious, selfish question. "And how does you also dying stop me from being afraid?"

"The Council would think it gauche to torture us to death. So, if it does come to that, the deaths will be quick."

And with that, the queen of glass half-full thinking followed her fellows into the woods.