Endeavor (King Arthur and Her Knights Book 6)

by K. M. Shea

  Roen took a few steps forward, impatiently flicking his tail. Lancelot moved to pull his horse next to Britt, so they would ride shoulder to shoulder. Britt twisted in her saddle to give a pleading look to Sir Kay.

  The taciturn knight shook his head, his mustache twitching, and looked to the sky when she made a face at him.

  “If Sir Ywain is being held in a castle, does that mean you intend to lay a siege upon it?” Lancelot chattered as he and Britt led the company to the forest road.

  “No. We’re hoping if we show enough of our power, hopefully they’ll just hand him over.”

  “That’s a well-thought plan, though it seems a little lack-luster. I would prefer a full-frontal attack; though, then you would need armies instead of a company of knights.”

  “Tell me, Sir Lancelot, why are you back so soon?” Britt asked, distracting the knight. The temperature dropped as they moved farther into the forest and the trees blocked out the sky. “I thought you intended to do quests to earn favor and return yourself to my good graces. It’s only been two or three weeks.”

  “Indeed, but I hoped your anger might have cooled by now.”

  “My anger over your public request to be called the Queen’s Champion, or my fury over the formation of the Queen’s Knights?”

  “Both, My Lord.”

  “And you thought a mere two weeks was a long enough period for my emotions to subside?”

  “You haven’t taken Excalibur to my throat, so I would say it was,” Lancelot mildly observed.

  Behind them, Kay suspiciously cleared his throat several times.

  Britt twisted in her saddle to scowl at her foster-brother, but Kay was busy, innocently looking at the sky—though his mustache still quivered.

  “Did my vanquished foes arrive in Camelot to give their vows to you?” Lancelot asked.

  “Yes. Though I must ask if it was really necessary to defeat them all.”

  “I defeated an impressive number of men, did I not?” Lancelot preened.

  “It was excessive.”

  “You are a difficult person to understand, My Lord,” Lancelot said.

  In spite of herself, Britt’s curiosity was piqued. “What?” She ducked a branch and cast the boastful knight a questioning glance.

  “When any of your younger knights defeat a foe, you congratulate them and throw them feasts. When I defeat foes, you say I used excessive force.”

  “That’s because you do use excessive force.”

  “I deeply apologized for stabbing you.”

  “In the back. After our match had already finished!” Britt stressed.

  “Mayhap you would better receive me if I captured an animal to join your menagerie. Do you fancy owning a lion?” Lancelot asked.

  “No. No more animals,” Britt firmly said.

  “Jewels?”

  “If you start asking about chocolates and flowers, I will have you tossed from this company,” Britt warned him.

  “Chocolates? What is that?”

  “A food. Forget about it. Just—why don’t you go talk to Sir Bedivere?”

  “Why would I?”

  “He has all the details of Sir Ywain’s capture.”

  “Does he?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Very well, I shall seek him out and speak to him. Good day, My Lord.”

  “Cheerio.” Her shoulders slumped when he left her.

  “You failed to mention that Sir Bedivere knows all the details only because you told him,” Sir Kay said, joining Britt at the front of the procession.

  Britt smirked. “You think that wasn’t on purpose? And thanks for helping me out of that, by the way, brother.”

  Sir Kay smoothed his mustache and said nothing more on the subject, although his eyes glittered with their shared humor.

  CHAPTER 8

  Sir Ywain’s Fate

  “It’s almost evening. Perhaps we should consider camping soon, My Lord?” Sir Bedivere suggested. He rode at Britt’s left.

  “Maybe, but aren’t we almost there?” Britt looked to her companions for confirmation.

  “I could go ask Sir Lanval,” Griflet offered.

  “Do you think it would be more intimidating if we arrived just before dark—so they worry about us the entire night?” Britt asked.

  Merlin scrunched his handsome face. “Sometimes your deviousness surprises me.”

  “Only sometimes?” Britt asked.

  “Look yonder—your courageous scouts return,” Kay said, pointing to Sir Lancelot, Sir Lionel, and Sir Bors, whose mounts cantered down the road. Starting around noon, Britt had ordered her “champion” to ride ahead of them on scouting duty. Everyone—from Kay to Merlin—complimented her military thinking, when in truth she just wanted something to occupy the charismatic knight so he would stop prattling.

  “Good, perhaps they will have news for us,” Merlin said.

  “My Lord, we have returned from scouting.” Lancelot pulled his horse to a halt a few feet away from Britt, Merlin, Griflet, and Bedivere. His cousins narrowly avoided him.

  “So I see,” Britt said. “Anything to report?”

  “The castle—which we believe belongs to the knight who guards the magical fountain—lies but a short distance from here. At a brisk pace, one could reach it in a fraction of an hour,” Sir Lancelot said.

  “Excellent.” Britt turned Roen in a tight circle. “So, men, do we press on, or camp and catch them by surprise in the morning?”

  “That is not all we have to report,” Sir Lancelot added.

  “Oh?” Merlin asked.

  “There is a strange sight waiting at the castle,” said Sir Lionel—who sounded deep and guttural like a bear.

  “What is it?” Britt asked.

  “I don’t think you would believe us if we told you,” Sir Lancelot said. “It is better if you see it yourselves.”

  Britt exchanged looks with Merlin.

  “It’s quite surprising,” Sir Bors added in the silence. “I do not think any sort of combat will be exchanged.”

  Wrinkles spread across Merlin’s forehead like a spider web. “Oh?”

  “Shall we press on, then?” Britt asked.

  “I’ll alert the rest of the company,” Griflet said, his voice tight with excitement.

  “Alright, let us set off.” Merlin sighed. “If we do fight, and this move forces us to give up a tactical advantage, I will string the three of you up by your thumbs,” Merlin warned the scouts.

  “We’re moving out!” Griflet shouted. He spurred his horse down the column in which the knights were arranged.

  They picked up their pace, moving at a controlled trot. Metal jingled, and knights checked their weapons as Griflet rode the perimeter of the company, shouting instructions.

  “How much farther in?” Britt asked after several minutes of riding. Lancelot’s palomino pranced next to her, flicking its white tail at Roen.

  “Not far, My Lord. It lies just beyond that break in the woods.” Lancelot pointed to a bright spot on the dirt road where the trees thinned out.

  The trees opened up into a vast meadow—the center of which was pressed down in a dimple. The castle stood at the center of the dimple. It was fairly standard with its stone walls and two towers. However, as it was in the low part of the meadow, it had (Britt was jealous to see) a moat.

  It was the flags that hung from the taller of the two towers that caught Britt’s attention. One of them was stitched with the outline of a lioness.

  “What—how did—what?” Sir Griflet gabbed.

  “That boy.” Merlin’s voice was heavy with disgust.

  Britt halted Roen at the crust of the dimple. Her knights poured from the forest and spilled out from behind her so they too stood at the edge, lining half of the meadow.

  A drawbridge lowered from the castle, and out rode a single knight. He had unembellished, simple armor, but his horse had a lioness painted on its crupper armor—the armor that covered its hindquarters.

  “Ywain.”
Britt squeezed Roen. He leaped into a canter, carrying her across the meadow with the speed of the wind.

  Britt would have recognized Ywain anywhere, for he credited her with the choice of his lion symbol, claiming they had discussed it when she was first getting to know him as he was a captive—the son of her enemy—held in her army’s camp.

  She was barely aware that a small brood of horses thundered after her, trying valiantly to catch her.

  Ywain halted his horse and dismounted. He wrestled his helm off and was waiting with a huge smile when Britt pulled Roen to a stop just a few feet away.

  “You brash idiot.” Britt laughed as she slid off Roen.

  “I knew you would come, Arthur! I have so much to tell you!” Ywain gave Britt a bear hug that almost pulled her off her feet.

  “Yes, you do! What possessed you to ride into another knight’s castle, chasing him?” Britt patted his back a few times before he released her.

  “Ywain—you sly fox!” Griflet leaped from his horse. He landed on the ground with a splat, but he dog-piled on his friend, who staggered under his weight. “Leaving on a quest in the middle of the night!”

  “Get off—you giant git!” Ywain laughed.

  “I heard you got caught in a gatehouse—for shame.” Griflet slid off his friend.

  Ywain threw an arm on Griflet’s shoulders and an arm over Britt’s. “That’s not even the best part—oh, greetings, Sir Kay,” he said when Kay removed Ywain’s arm from Britt’s shoulders.

  “Congratulations on your conquest, Sir Ywain,” Lancelot said. “I don’t think I have ever met a knight who has accomplished such a thing on his own.”

  “Thank you,” Ywain grinned.

  “You mean to tell me you actually took the entire castle?” Merlin said, his voice crusted with disbelief.

  “You were the one who told me I was destined for grand things, Merlin.” Ywain grinned like an exuberant puppy.

  “I can’t say castle-conquering was a part of my vision,” Merlin said dryly.

  “Wait, so you’re the lord of this castle?” Britt asked.

  “Partially…”

  Sir Bedivere furrowed his brow. “How can you partially be a lord?”

  “Well, really I’m just the new guardian of the Fountain. My wife, Laudine, she’s the real ruler of our household.”

  “Wife?” Britt yelped.

  “Guardian?” Griflet yipped.

  “I am not surprised you should marry what sounds like a strong-minded female. Like father like son,” Merlin muttered.

  “How can you be married? You’re like, seventeen!” Britt said, her eyes big with shock.

  “I’m nearly twenty,” Ywain frowned.

  “No, you can’t be,” Britt shook her head.

  “I’m older than you are—er, older than you’re supposed to be,” Ywain said.

  Britt still gaped at him, and Ywain shifted uncomfortably.

  “It is common to marry at what you presume to be a young age,” Merlin muttered into Britt’s ear.

  “I thought you would be happy for me,” Ywain said, his voice subdued.

  Britt recovered, flashing him a brilliant smile. “I am. I absolutely am. It just…surprised me. Did you know your lady…before?”

  “No, she was married to Esclados the Red—whom I mortally wounded,” Ywain said. “Here, let me call her down. LAUDINE! LAUDINE—COME AND MEET KING ARTHUR!” he bellowed at the walls of the castle.

  “You forced the wife of the man you killed to marry you?” Sir Kay asked when Ywain stopped shouting.

  Griflet clasped Ywain’s shoulder. “You’re a brave man—stupid, but brave.”

  “It’s not like that.” Ywain swatted his friend away. “The fountain has to be protected, or the storms will rage over these lands. Laudine knew she needed to remarry quickly to protect her lands; I volunteered.”

  “So you don’t love her?” Britt asked, still struggling with the line of the story.

  “Of course I do!” Ywain said, looking horrified. “I fell in love with her when she held me captive in her dungeons.”

  Griflet nodded knowingly. “Love at first sight—‘tis quite romantic.”

  “It sounds rushed.” Britt was shocked that Lancelot of all people spoke those words, his usually joyous face blank as one of his eyebrows rose in suspicion.

  “One cannot deny love,” Ywain said with a boyish smile.

  Britt took a moment to carefully plan her wording and then asked, “So you married her, and you’re now the protector of this magical fountain?”

  “Yes. Oh—Merlin, it cannot be moved. I checked,” Ywain said.

  “I did not think it could be countered quite so easily, but one must always thoroughly investigate,” Merlin said.

  Britt barely heard his reply, she was mulling over Ywain’s situation. He said the fountain had to be guarded. “So am I to assume you will not be returning to Camelot?”

  Ywain shook his head. “I will still do deeds in your name, My Lord. I’ll just be like King Pellinore—not a permanent resident, but a common visitor!”

  “I see,” Britt said.

  Ywain’s smile faded, and he grew still. “You’re not pleased with me, are you, My Lord?”

  “I,” Britt hesitated. It was all going so fast. She could have sworn Ywain was barely past sixteen, and now he was married? To a lady he had known for only a few days? Had he gone mad?

  “Not here, lass,” Merlin whispered in her ear.

  Britt clamped down on the unhappy words threatening to escape her mouth and instead shook her head, making a show of looking dismayed. “It’s only that your father is going to kill me! Setting you up as a married man was never part of our treaty.”

  It was the right thing to say. Ywain and Griflet roared with laughter, and even Sir Bedivere chuckled.

  “I don’t think he would expect anything less from me. Oh! Here she is!” Ywain was all smiles as a lady on a white donkey rode across the drawbridge.

  Laudine—as Ywain had called her—was quite beautiful, with silken blonde hair and wondrous blue eyes. She was a few years older than Ywain, but those extra years gave her a grace and poise that other pretty girls—like Guinevere—lacked.

  Ywain threw an arm across Britt’s shoulders and dragged her over to the lady when she halted her donkey. “Laudine, this is King Arthur—my lord, my liege, and my life. My Lord, this is Laudine—the most beautiful lady in the world and the love of my soul,” Ywain said. He leaned over and whispered in Britt’s ear. “Please don’t give her your best smile—I don’t think I can compete with it.”

  Laudine curtsied. “My Lord, King Arthur,” she murmured.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Laudine,” Britt said as Sir Kay grabbed Ywain by the neck and yanked him a foot away from her. “Sir Ywain is one of my dearest companions and bravest knights. I know he will love you with a faithfulness and loyalty that are rare.”

  “Thank you, My Lord,” Laudine said.

  Britt and Laudine studied each other for a few moments—gauging each other. Britt still wasn’t sure what to think of her, but it was out of her hands at the moment.

  “Oh, and here is my greatest companion—Sir Griflet.” Ywain paraded his best friend before his wife.

  Griflet treated her to a sweeping bow. “A pleasure, Lady Laudine. You must be among the most patient creatures in these lands if you married—ack!” He yelped when Ywain kicked the back of his knee.

  Britt watched Ywain introduce his new wife to the small group of knights one by one.

  Mordred drifted out of the crowd so he could stand at Britt’s side. “You don’t look at ease, My Lord.”

  Britt allowed herself to deeply exhale. “I’m not.”

  Mordred briefly rested a hand on her shoulder and then returned to his horse. “What shall I tell the other knights, My Lord?”

  “We’ll camp here for tonight. Is that acceptable, Merlin?” Britt asked.

  “Yes. We will begin our journey home in the morning,�
�� Merlin said.

  “Oh, but you must feast with us tonight,” Ywain said eagerly. “Can’t they, Laudine?”

  “Of course, husband.” the beautiful lady smiled faintly at her company. “We would be honored to have you as our guests this evening.”

  “Then it’s settled. Stake your horses, and come in! I wish to show you the castle!”

  The feast was a strange cocktail of emotions. Laudine’s guards and men at arms were polite but tense, and Britt thought she could detect a trace of fear among them. Most of the knights of Camelot were in high spirits, but there were a few surprises.

  Lancelot was quiet and introverted—he didn’t even look at any of Laudine’s ladies in waiting—Merlin acted unusually exuberant, and Griflet was thoughtful.

  Britt walked the perimeter of the room, sipping drinks and observing her knights. She watched Sir Ywain and other Round Table knights laugh and shout. Sir Mordred had set up court at another table and was doing his best to charm Laudine’s quiet ladies. Sir Bedivere seemed to genuinely enjoy himself, and Kay—Britt could tell—was reveling in the knowledge that this was one feast Camelot was not paying for.

  “Ahem.”

  Britt pulled her attention away from her knights and pushed a smile onto her lips. “Lady Laudine—you look beautiful this evening.”

  Laudine moved to join Britt on her stroll. “I thank you. I hope everything is to your liking, My Lord.”

  “Indeed, it is. You are a generous and pleasing hostess,” Britt said, feeling a little awkward. Previously, the only married knight in the Round Table was King Pellinore, and his wife, Adelind—Queen of Anglesey—was much older and gave off a motherly-vibe. It had been easy to interact with her. As Laudine was roughly her age, she was at a bit of a loss in knowing how to act—and the lady’s stiff demeanor certainly wasn’t helping her.

  Laudine knit her fingers together. “I am glad to hear you think so. My husband greatly esteems you and your opinion.”

  “Please allow me to extend my congratulations on your nuptials. I am sorry I was not present for the happy occasion,” Britt said.

  “It was a sudden thing—although Ywain has stated his desire for you to visit ever since.”