King Arthur and Her Knights: Enthroned #1, Enchanted #2, Embittered #3 (18 page)

“I am a woman masquerading as a 15 year old boy king who makes no decisions about his own kingdom. The least you will allow me to do is to make decisions regarding my pets.”

“Fine.”

“So Merlin thinks there may yet be trouble?” King Ban—a well groomed, well mannered man—said as he folded his arms behind his back, following Britt down a dirt path that circled the outer walls of Camelot.

“He does, and I agree with him. I find it unlikely that these men, who have been such thorns in my side since the day I was crowned in London, are through with me after one battle,” Britt said, placing a hand on Cavall. The apricot fawn colored dog kept pace with Britt, his wrinkled muzzle twitching.

“They certainly ran from you with their tails between their legs. You did not even need our soldiers during your victorious battle,” King Bors said, brushing a bug out of his massive beard.

Britt was silent as she composed her thoughts—replying always took time for Britt as she had to not only think about her answer, but also come up with a flowery way to phrase it to suit her audience. “Perhaps,” Britt said as she turned to face Ban and Bors. “But I’m not certain I would call it a victory. We beat them off, but they did not surrender. As such, I would greatly appreciate the support your army and men symbolize for a little while longer. Surely your kingdoms can spare you a few weeks more?”

King Bors smiled. “Of course, friend,” he said, his voice booming in the stillness of the surrounding fields.

King Ban nodded. “We are your staunch allies. We shall stay as long as you need us.”

Britt gave the kings a benevolent smile. “Thank you. I hope some time in the future I will be able to repay your generosity.”

King Bors waved a meaty hand. “It is what allies do,” he said before turning to Ban. “We had best inform our men of the change in plans.”

King Ban nodded. “If you will excuse us, Arthur?”

Britt slightly inclined her head. “Of course,” she said, her hand still resting on Cavall.

The kings turned and walked back up the path, their tunics swishing as they moved.

As soon as they were out of eye sight Britt turned to face the castle wall and discreetly fixed the fitted double that smashed her chest down, giving her tunic the appearance of lying on a flat chest.

“I’m lucky summers are cool here, or this would really be the pits,” Britt muttered, hiking up her pantyhose. (Merlin still insisted they were called chausses. Britt knew better.)

“So that’s why Merlin said you were one of faerie blood. He had to explain your elegance and calmness.”

Britt whirled around, grimacing when her eyes landed on the Lady of the Lake. The black haired beauty had
unwillingly
allowed Britt to
steal
pull Excalibur from her magical lake after she had offered Britt a different sword. Britt suspected she only got away with Excalibur because the lady was dumbstruck over the revelation of Britt’s real gender.  If the Lady of the Lake knew Britt’s entire story, she probably would have died from shock.

Britt had been yanked back through time to the era of King Arthur when she accidentally touched a sword—the famed Sword in the Stone—while vacationing in Britain with her friends. When she arrived Merlin informed her that the real Arthur had run off with a shepherdess, and all of his plans to unite Britain under one King were hinged on finding someone who could pull the Sword from the Stone.

After a brief period of believing it was an elaborate prank set up by her friends, Britt pulled the Sword from the Stone even though she was a girl, an American, and from the twenty first century.

Merlin grumbled a little over Britt’s unusual time traveling heritage, but he had no other option. Adapting and clever as ever, Merlin plowed forward with his plans—using Britt as his symbolic king.

Only a few knights of Camelot knew of Britt’s gender, and even fewer knew she came from the future. All of the knowledgeable knights were Merlin’s men, and all of them were in seats of power, working with Merlin—and supposedly Britt—to unite Britain under one king for the good of all peoples.

The Lady of the Lake was the only other being to know Britt’s real gender.

“What do you mean?” Britt asked.

The Lady of the Lake shrugged, sending ripples down her pretty, green dress. “No fifteen year old
boy
could hold himself with the stately poise you possess, nor could a boy be as wise and careful in their replies as you are. Those with faerie blood are known to possess not only incredible beauty, but wisdom and knowledge beyond their years. Why, Merlin is said to have some faerie blood in him.”

Britt carefully nodded as she turned around. She could see her guards yards away, alert and watchful. They did not seem overly worried about the magical lady standing with Britt.

Britt wished they would be. She hadn’t parted on good terms with the Lady of the Lake when she took Excalibur. “I see,” Britt said, sparing Cavall a glance. The large, wrinkly faced dog was still. “May I be so bold as to inquire what brings you to Camelot?”

“I see how it is. Now you’re all politeness and sweet words since you’ve got your sword. Shrew,” the lady said.

Britt shrugged, unapologetic. “That’s not a bad thing. Most people would act the reverse, Tinker Bell.”

The Lady of the Lake frowned. “Tinker Bell?”

“It has not escaped my attention that you have yet to explain what you’re doing here.”

The Lady of the Lake twitched her skirts aside. “I decided a visit was in order. Rumors of your victory against King Lot, King Urien, King Pellinore, King Ryence and the others have reached my lake. You have become quite the king,” she said, turning her nose up in the air.

Britt kept her stance relaxed. As far as she remembered the only legends about the Lady in the Lake involved Excalibur. It was unlikely she had a larger role to play, so there was no need to be defensive with her. “As I told King Ban and King Bors—which I am certain you overheard—it was not a true victory.”

“At least you don’t have an enlarged ego,” the Lady of the Lake said.

There was silence for a few moments. Britt shifted and glanced over her shoulder at her guards. They were still on alert, their eyes endlessly scanning their surroundings.

“So you’re really ruling, even though you’re a woman?” the Lady of the Lake said. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it dripped with disdain.

“I am. Most of them don’t know of it. But a few do,” Britt admitted.

“Merlin and his minions?”

“Yes.”

The Lady of the Lake frowned and inspected Britt from the top of her head to her shoes. “Rumor has it you want a court ruled by honor, justice, and chivalry?”

Britt wryly smiled. Young Ywain—a young man who had defected to Britt’s side even though he was the son of King Urien—was the only person she had told her plans to. Apparently he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “I do,” Britt said. “I can’t make laws or rules about women. I can’t give them rights, and I can’t feed all the poor. My lords and knights would rebel. But if I have a code of conduct and reward those who act in chivalry I think I will be successful.” 

The Lady of the Lake lowered her snotty gaze long enough to stare at Britt. “You really mean to change Britain?”

“Yes.”

There was more silence again, and Britt considering trying to sneak off. The Lady of the Lake abruptly broke the silence, her words spilling over themselves like a frantic river. “A lady of great magic is traveling from the north. Her goal is Camelot. She means to ensnare you, and the men of your court. I do not believe you will fall for her magic. You have Excalibur after all, and she will not expect you to be a woman. There. You’ve had a warning, you’re a complete fool if you still fall for it.”

Britt blinked at the faerie lady before smiling. “I see. I didn’t think things would be peaceful quite yet. Thank you for the warning…”

“Nymue.”

“Nymue,” Britt said, carefully pronouncing the name.

The Lady of the Lake, Nymue, twitched her skirts again. “I’ll be going then. Wouldn’t want to stick around this place too long,” she scoffed, pushing some of her long, black hair over her shoulder.

“Safe travels home, Nymue,” Britt said.

“Of course, I’m not some sort of second rate nymph,” Nymue sniffed before adding, “Good luck.”

Britt glanced over her shoulder to spy out her guards. By the time she looked forward again Nymue was gone.

A week later Britt was throwing a pouch stuffed with dried beans for Cavall when a messenger threw open the doors to the throne room. “My Lord, I bear ill news!”

“W-what, what?” Sir Ector snorted, rocketing out of the chair he was dozing in.

“Come in and give your message to the King,” Merlin invited the messenger, never removing his intense blue eyes from the abacus he was using.

Britt swept down the stairs that led up to her throne, tossing the beanbag one last time before wiping her drool moistened hands on her tunic. “Pray do tell us, what terrible news do you have?” Britt asked as Cavall dutifully retrieved the beanbag, his nails clicking on the stone floor.

The man—a soldier—stumbled into the room, losing his balance twice before Sir Kay shut his logbook and steadied him.

“I bear news from King Leodegrance,” the messenger said, slumping on a bench Sir Ector pulled out for him.

“Well? Spit it out man!” Sir Ector boomed.

“Wait, our guest looks parched and hungry. Bring something for this man to quench his thirst and end his hunger,” Britt called to a young page hovering in the shadows of a wall.

“Working on your local tongue?” Merlin muttered to Britt.

“Am I over doing it?”

“A bit, unless you were aiming for the position of court bard or all around pansy.”

Britt winced as Cavall spit out the beanbag in her hand. “I’ll tone it down,” she said.

In no time the page returned with a tray of bread, fruit, dried meat, and a tankard of ale.

The soldier/messenger gulped down the ale, splashing it on himself before he shoved food in his mouth. “King Ryence has retreated from your great victory, and instead has hastened to plague King Leodegrance of Camelgrance,” he said around a mass of unchewed bread.

“You there, lad. Go summon King Ban and King Bors,” Merlin called to the young page.

The soldier took another swig of ale. “King Leodegrance does not know the exact count of soldiers King Ryence has with him, but he estimates over 10,000.”

“10,000? How did he muster that? He didn’t bring that many soldiers to our battle against him,” Britt frowned.

“We should have seen this coming. The kings of the failed plot might be through fighting Arthur, but it doesn’t mean their quest for power is over,” Sir Ector said.

Merlin moved a few beads on his abacus. “Indeed. I thought Ryence might try something, but I calculated that he would at least return home first to lick his wounds. Apparently he is a bigger fool than I imagined.”

“Should we summon Sir Bodwain? As Constable he should know of this,” Sir Kay said.

“Sir Bedivere too,” Britt said before gesturing to another page standing along the wall. The boy nodded and trotted off, almost running into King Ban and Bors when they swept through the entryway.

“Well there, what’s the trouble Arthur? What great, ruddy king has his nose out of joint now?” Bors boomed.