And before Kay can think about how he’s going to kill it, the dragon leaps upwards, beating the smoke down with its wings. With a few good strokes it’s high in the air, trailing its long body behind it, rising on the column of heat from the burning tower. And then it’s gone, high above the smoke. Far too high for him to see where it is going. ‘What

But one of the nice things about the climate war is that you don’t have much time to lie around in bed second-guessing yourself. Mariam hauls herself out of bed, aching in some places and itching in others. Her general despair at the state of the world feels less immediate when all of her muscles are sore. If you keep moving and doing useful things

He remembers weird deeds done long ago, in his first life. Dreamlike deeds that seem impossible now. He fought a giant cat on the isle of Mona which had scales and gills and fins like a fish. He slew an army of toad men, wading up to his belly in a flooded cave. He spoke to eagles and crossed the sea on the back of a giant salmon. Did any of it act

He’s grateful for Marlowe. Not just for the shirts and shoes. There was a long time before Marlowe where everything was gloom and horror. One war after another, charging around on horseback. Mud and murder and mad kings. Henries and Edwards and Richards, and all the others. It all felt pointless, endless, hopeless. Eternal warriors, questing about

‘If we put anyone on trial for ecocide,’ says Regan, ‘it will be the oil barons and politicians and corporate warlords. Not our own sisters.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ says Bronte. ‘But like, I still think maybe there should be some consequences for Mariam, here? She can’t just cause an ecological disaster and then rejoin the movement as if nothing happened.’

He remembers how Arthur was, in the last few years of his reign. He remembers how things ended.

His dream stays with him. It was easier to deal with the memories when he knew that he served a purpose. He used to tell himself that he was coming back for a reason. It made everything an ounce more tolerable. He used to tell himself that he was part of Merlin’s plan. Well, he was – just not in the way that he thought. None of what he did was part

Mariam has ten or twelve questions and she doesn’t know which one to ask first. Why did he wander off? What happened to his head? How did he find his way back here? ‘What the fuck happened to you?’ she asks, eventually. It has the advantage of being versatile.

Strange things can happen, with mines and caves and tunnels. Especially if they’re left abandoned. A crack can form between this world and the Otherworld. Smaller monstrosities can squeeze their way through. But he’s never known a big queen dragon to slither through a faerie hole like that. They’re proud creatures; it would be beneath their dignity