King Arthur and Her Knights: Enthroned #1, Enchanted #2, Embittered #3 (23 page)

Britt set her shoulders, preparing herself for more of Morgause’s poisonous compliments.

“If you’ll pardon the intrusion, My Lord?” Sir Kay stood at Britt’s elbow, the corners of his mouth twitching under his mustache.

“Of course, what is it, Sir Kay?” Britt said.

“Merlin would like to speak to you alone. He says it is a kingly matter that we need not bore our guest with,” Sir Kay said.

“I agree whole heartedly with him,” Britt said. “I would not want you to go without entertainment for a single moment, and I’m sure any number of my knights would gladly take my place. If you will excuse us, My Lady?”

“Of course,” Morgause said, unable to reply any other way.

As Britt and Sir Kay walked back to the dais Britt briefly slung her arm around Sir Kay. “I cannot thank you enough, Sir Kay. I think she meant to suffocate me with her complimentary prattle.”

“She’s trying to win you over, My Lord. I think it has become a thing of pride for her,” Sir Kay said.

“In any case you still saved me.”

“I cannot take the credit, it was Merlin who sent me.”

“You are determined not to take a single compliment, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps, My Lord.”

“Very well then, as much as you dislike it you still have my thanks,” Britt said, nodding good bye to her foster brother before joining Merlin on the dais. “I hear I have you to thank for my rescue.”

Merlin shrugged. “It was no trouble. I do not wish to see you miserable, no matter how you may think otherwise,” he said, looking out at the feasting crowd. “Him,” Merlin said, jabbing to someone.

“What?”

“Young Ywain, what did he say to you?”

“That Morgause is a poisonous snake.”

“His loyalty to you knows no bounds. You have won him over for his life.”

“What makes you say that?”

Merlin tucked his hands inside the sleeves of his robe. “Do you not remember how Urien—Ywain’s father—and Lot are related?”

“They are brother–in-laws, related through their wives, right?”

“Yes. Think on that for a moment.”

Britt scuffed a foot on the dais before it hit her. “Morgause is Ywain’s aunt?”

“She is his mother’s sister, yes.”

“That means he is supposed to be my nephew… does he know?”

“Of your supposed parentage? Yes.”

“Then why hasn’t he said anything?”

“Sometimes men want to believe in a cause bigger than themselves. That is how Ywain thinks.”

Britt stared at Morgause, who was surrounded by knights clamoring for her attention. “Why didn’t Morgause recognize him? She wanted to know who he was.”

“Just because she is his aunt doesn’t mean she has seen him more than a handful of times in his life. I’m not entirely sure if she has ever seen him, to be honest,” Merlin said. “Regardless he still would have heard of her from his mother.”

“You don’t think he’ll be pulled in by Morgause?” Britt asked.

“No. There are a few that are loyal to you and they will not be moved,” Merlin said. “Ywain is one of them.”

“And Sir Kay and Sir Ector?” Britt timidly asked.

Merlin nodded. “Them too.”

“I’m glad.”

“If you’re so glad then you should work to win over more of your men.”

“Yes, Merlin.”

“Don’t you ‘yes, Merlin’ me!”

“Of course, Merlin.”

“That’s hardly any better.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“Harridan.”

“I find it amusing that you resort to name calling when you can’t think of anything better to say.”

“Only to those who deserve it.”

“Yes, Merlin.”

Early Sunday morning Britt dosed in the comfort of her bed. As usual, the previous night gave her only snatches of sleep. Britt still enjoyed the luxury of sitting in her warm bed with no one pestering her, though. The room was quiet and smelled faintly of flowers—a new bunch were placed in her room every afternoon, a custom Britt had grown to love.

Britt was taking her time in bed to mull through the bits of Arthurian lore she remembered. “Gawain is here, now. If I can get him to stay that probably means Lancelot and Guinevere aren’t far behind.” Britt moaned. “I
hate
Lancelot and Guinevere. As soon as I find out who Lancelot is I’m going to slug him in the nose.”

As long as Britt remembered almost everyone portrayed the love between Lancelot and Guinevere as a beautiful but tragic thing. No one held them accountable for single handedly ruining Arthur’s life, and no one ever commented on what a sucky best friend Lancelot was, or what a faithless wife Guinevere was. Instead they focused on how much they loved each other but how
Arthur
tore them apart.

The only person who ever thought differently was one of the instructors at Britt’s first sword hall. Britt didn’t remember much about the man besides his dislike of Lancelot and his mustache as she was barely five when she first started her lessons. However, she did remember that her instructor was the first person to point out what a playboy Lancelot was.

Britt yawned. “Yeah, I don’t care about the legends. As soon as Lancelot comes prancing into Camelot I’m sending him prancing right out of here.”

Someone knocked on the door. “May I come in?”

Britt stretched in her bed. “Sure, Merlin,” she said.

Only Merlin and her guards ever woke her in the mornings, and her guards only shouted to her through the doors.

The door opened. “What are you doing? Did you not hear the first bell? You—.”

The door shut soundly.

Britt picked her head off her pillow. “Merlin?”

Merlin, once again standing out in the hallway, hissed through the door. “You’re still in bed.”

“Yeah, so?”

“It is
indecent
for you to allow a man into your bedchambers when you are still in bed!”

Britt peeled back a blanket and laughed. “What? Why? I’m fully clothed. It might be warm outside but it’s freezing in here so it’s not like I’m showing any skin.”

“Indecent!” Merlin repeated through the door.

Britt rolled her eyes and sat up. “What did you want?”

“Get up. We’re going to mass.”

“No,
we’re
not. You might be, but I’m not.”

“Oh yes you are, you little heathen.”

“It’s boring. The pastor only talks in Greek or Hebrew or whatever that language is.”

“He’s the archbishop, and he conducts the service in Latin.”

“Mmm, yeah that,” Britt said, falling back into her bed with a thump.

“Do not lie back down you unschooled foundling!”

“Too late,” Britt said. “If you want me to go to mass you’re going to have to drag me out of here. How
indecent
would that be?”

The door opened and Merlin stormed in. “Drag you, you say? Fine! You were complaining I never use my magic so I shall,” he said, staring at the wall and
not
Britt in her bed.

Merlin pointed a finger at Britt and said something that seemed to boom in the room. The next thing Britt knew she was drenched in icy water.

Britt launched out her bed, spitting like a cat—narrowly avoiding stepping on Cavall. “You jerk!”

“Get dressed, we’re going and that’s final,” Merlin said, already out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Britt squeezed water from her hair. “I’ll remember this!”

“See that you do.”

Britt was seated on her throne, absent mindedly petting Cavall as she stared at the ceiling when Sir Kay arrived.

“I was told you wanted to see me, My Lord?”

“Ah, perfect timing. Kay—sorry—Sir Kay, I need your help,” Britt said, heaving herself out of her throne. She picked up a few sheets of paper that were tucked against the side of her throne before trotting down the stairs. “I have decided I need a riding helmet.”

“A what?”

“A riding helmet. Where I come from people wear thick, padded helms that encircle the top half of the head to prevent injury when riding. You know, in case the horse throws you or something. I was willing to go prancing around without one when I thought this was all a dream, but I’ve grown increasingly apprehensive with the idea of riding without one.”

“Wouldn’t a normal helm suffice?” Kay asked.

“No, the insides of a riding helmet are more cushioned. Also the helmet rings across the forehead, then goes down behind the ears and encases the back of the head,” Britt said, tracing out the trail with her fingertip on her skull. “Nothing covers the eyes so the rider maintains optimum vision. A strap is fastened to the helmet and cinches at the chin to keep the helmet on the wearer.”

“I see. I could try talking to our armor smiths. I am sure we can come up with something for you, although it may take some time,” Sir Kay said.

“I drew up a couple of rough sketches to give you a better idea of what I’m looking for,” Britt said, handing Sir Kay the papers she held.

Sir Kay briefly looked over the sketches. “This will be a help. Thank you, My Lord. I will keep you informed.”

“It’s not too bothersome?”

Sir Kay spared Britt a rare smile. “Anything that further protects you and your welfare is
never
too bothersome, My Lord.”

Sir Kay bowed and took his leave. Britt stretched and considered her options. “I could sit up on the throne, where even Morgause dare not bother me, I could chance walking around—but she’ll dog my every step and I’ll have to listen to my knights swoon over her,” Britt groaned.

Across the room Morgause, ringed by young knights, started walking in Britt’s direction.

“I need to decide quickly,” Britt said. Merlin happened to walk by the throne room doors at that moment, carrying a bundle of flowers.

“Cavall, come,” Britt called to her dog before hurrying after her counselor. “Merlin,” Britt called as she bolted into the hallway.

Merlin turned, barely visible over the pile of flowers. “What? Oh, it’s you, Arthur. Looking to escape the harpy?”

“You don’t need to say it so loudly,” Britt said, catching up to him.

“I’ll say it as loud as I please,” Merlin snorted before starting off again.

“Actually I did have something I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, did you talk to Sir Ulfius about the Round Table?”

“Are you still going on about that? No, I haven’t. I’ve been quite occupied since Morgause arrived, if you haven’t noticed,” Merlin said as they started climbing stairs.

“Could you ask him? It’s important,” Britt said, slightly out of breath by the time they reached the floor Merlin was looking for.

“It means that much to you, does it? Very well, I shall speak to him.”

“Where has he been anyway? I haven’t seen him at all since Morgause arrived.”

“I’ve been closeting him away. He’s loyal to me, but I’m not sure how loyal he is to you. It would be a dicey thing to have your chamberlain in love with Morgause.”

“Ahhh,” Britt said, blinking when they stopped outside a set of doors. “This is my room.”