by K. M. Shea
Britt smiled and, lacking anything to say, sipped her drink.
“Are you pleased to have Sir Ywain as a lord under your command?” Laudine asked.
“Of course. Sir Ywain has a loyal and true heart. He can be brash, but you have won him for life, Lady Laudine.”
“Yes, just as you have,” Laudine said.
“Yes,” Britt acknowledged.
“Which is why I wanted to speak to you, My Lord. Because of the location of our lands, and the proximity of the fountain, it is absolutely necessary that a strong and able man rules as lord protector.”
“I am confident Ywain will properly protect you,” Britt said.
“Of this I am aware,” Laudine said. Her voice held a hint of frost. “What I seek, My Lord, and what I ask of you, is that you would not call my husband from these halls.”
“I beg your pardon?” Britt said.
“I have heard much of Camelot—indeed, I acknowledge you as my King, and my lands enjoy your protection. But while I have heard what a just and worthy King you are, I have mostly heard of your knights and their conduct. I have heard of your Round Table and how you bind your knights to you as lord and comrade.”
“It is true that my knights are my closest companions,” Britt said.
“And Sir Ywain is one of them.”
“Of course.”
“But, My Lord, you have enough other knights. Please, do not lure my husband from these lands.”
An ungracious part of Britt wanted to pull Laudine’s hair. The lady was basically trying to sever their friendship. But as poorly delivered as the request was, Britt could see how much it mattered to the lady. It was probably why everyone from her castle was on edge. As a knight, Ywain was easily the best trained and best equipped in a castle of guards. If he left, they would be without his protection.
Still, Laudine didn’t have to be such a hag about it.
“I understand the position you are in, Lady Laudine,” Britt said. “Please allow me to assure you that I understand Ywain has responsibilities here. Yet, I cannot promise that I will not call him—for Ywain is a knight of the Round Table, and as a knight, he is concerned not only with his lands, but the country. However, I am confident that if you and Ywain are as deeply in love as you appear to be, he will not stray to me without purpose.” Britt smiled to ease her thinly veiled threat.
Laudine did not return the smile. “I see.”
“You have married an honorable man, Lady Laudine. I suggest you worry a little less on what he might do and concentrate, instead, on your relationship,” Britt added.
“I sense you are used to your subjects’ endless trust in you, My Lord,” Laudine said.
Britt smiled fondly. “Perhaps.”
“Do not let such pride rule you. If you’ll excuse me, My Lord,” Lady Laudine said.
Britt watched her leave with a frown. “Good riddance,” she muttered into her cup.
“Had a spat with Lady Laudine, did you?” Merlin asked, making Britt jump at his sudden arrival.
“Yes, and I have no idea why. Are you sure Ywain wanted to marry that nag? Maybe she enchanted him.”
“She did no such thing. The two of you are bucking heads because you are selfish, and she is needy and untrusting,” Merlin said.
“Gee, thanks,” Britt said.
“You’re welcome. She presents an issue we must discuss.”
“Now?”
“No, on our ride tomorrow.”
“Great. That means it’s going to be a long lecture.”
“No, it will merely require some introspection on your end.”
“Hmph.”
“Britt,” Merlin said, drawing her attention—he didn’t often use her true name, and he never used it where they might be overheard. “I’m sorry. I know this is troubling to you and rather unexpected.”
“I think everyone finds it unexpected,” Britt said.
“Perhaps, but you are Ywain’s king. This change was sure to hit you—and perhaps Griflet—the hardest, but there are certain factors that make it even more difficult for you to accept.”
Britt tilted her head. “Like?”
Merlin opened his mouth, hesitated, and looked around. “Tomorrow,” he promised. Britt would have protested, but the soft look in his blue eyes made her heart twist.
“Tomorrow,” she agreed.
Merlin cleared his throat and straightened his blue tunic. “Now. I’m going to mingle—as should you. You don’t want to give off the impression you disapprove of this union.”
“But I do.”
“It is not your call to make. This is your knight’s personal life; he may decide whom to love.” Merlin scowled, as if angry with his own words. When Britt raised an eyebrow at him, he swapped the frown for his charming court grin. “Now smile, or you can go sit with Lancelot. His presence will serve as an explanation for your grim look.”
“Hah-hah, you’re so funny.” Britt turned on her heels and descended upon a cloud of ladies. “Mordred—you scoundrel. Introduce me to your companions.”
CHAPTER 9
The Talk
“Alright, Merlin. Hit me. What did you want to talk about?” Britt asked the following day as she and the wizard rode side by side, leading the way back to Camelot.
(The farewells that morning had been joyful and stilted. Ywain was all smiles, but the night seemed to have done little to improve Laudine’s possessive mood. As such, Britt was both sad and grateful to be leaving Ywain so soon.)
“The passage of time,” Merlin said.
“What, are you looking into inventing quantum physics—or is this the start of a poem? I don’t do poetry, just an FYI.”
“FYI? You speak almost normal now, but you have retained some of the oddest sayings from your home,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “No, I wish to explain something to you. Your knights are growing up.”
“Why do you sound like a teacher preparing to speak to his students’ parents?” Britt asked.
“Because you haven’t noticed this issue yourself. When Ywain first came to you, he was seventeen. Two years have passed since then, making him nineteen. You must have noticed the changes his maturation has produced, for the lad no longer resembles a gangly spider. Nineteen is a perfectly acceptable age for a knight to marry.”
“Has it really been two years?” Britt adjusted her hold on Roen’s reins. “It feels like it’s only been months.”
“Gawain is even older than Ywain. You can expect he also will marry soon, as will your other young knights.”
Britt uneasily glanced at the wizard, who wore a deceivingly placid expression and stared at the road. “What are you getting at, Merlin?”
Merlin was quiet for a few moments as their horses plodded along. He nodded, as if pumping himself up, and settled his gaze on her. “Your knights are mature, lass. You have taught them well, and they have flourished under your principles. It is time to release them.”
“Release them? Do you want me to dissolve the Round Table?” Ice spread in her heart. These men were her friends—her brothers!
Merlin drew back in horror. “No, no, absolutely not! You think I would go through all that trouble to get you a circular table to use for a mere year and give up one of the most genius methods of ruling I have ever seen? No.” He glared at Britt like a chicken with ruffled feathers.
“You said you wanted me to release them,” Britt said. “Besides their oaths as knights, I have no other hold over them.”
“But you do,” Merlin said. “You have in your hands your knights’ loyalty and love—not the kind Ywain has for Laudine, but the deep affection of comrades. If you don’t set them free, they will stay bound only to you until the day they die. You must know that would be a disservice to them.”
Britt looked to the sky and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. They will leave me, and I will be alone. Again. She knew it was a selfish worry, but she couldn’t help it. Men like Gawain and Ywain made her new life enjoyable. This wasn�
��t like the twenty-first century. She couldn’t zip over to meet Ywain in his new castle for lunch.
When the knights started having families of their own, she would be alone in Camelot.
“No,” Merlin said, as if he could read her thoughts. “You have men who will always stand with you, and your knights already leave you now to go on quests. But even so, you will still see your knights after they have married.”
“I guess.”
“No, there are no guesses, Britt. Pellinore is married, and you see him often enough that you still consider him a close comrade. It will be the same with Ywain and the others. You have instilled chivalry and honor into them, lass, so they don’t have to be at your beck and call to accomplish good deeds. You must trust them, and let them make lives for themselves.”
Britt was silent.
“Some of them will not stray very far. Young Griflet and Sir Tor, I doubt, will ever move from your halls. I imagine they will wed Camelot girls and remain in your court. But those who inherit land…it is different for them. They must take up their roles as landowners.”
“Like Sir Ector,” Britt said. “I need to let him spend more time at Bonmaison instead of Camelot.”
“Exactly,” Merlin nodded. “It is not that you are cutting off contact; rather, you are letting them be knights in their own right. They cannot be known only as ‘King Arthur’s Knights.’ They must establish identities of their own.”
“It’s hard,” Britt said, glancing over her shoulder. Kay, Griflet, Lancelot, and Mordred were riding in a row—arguing about ladies from the sound of it. “It feels like I’m saying goodbye.”
“Perhaps a little, but it’s not forever. And you have to know their loyalties will always lie with you. Just as a portion of your heart belongs to them, so will a part of their soul belong to you. Isn’t that what friendship is?”
Britt sighed. “You’re right. I am being selfish.”
“I knew you would come to your senses.”
“Just because I understand doesn’t mean I have accepted it yet.”
“It can only be expected. You have poured much into these men; it is hard to let them go. If it’s any consolation, Laudine spoke to you last night because she’s terrified you have a deeper hold over Ywain than she does.”
“Whatever. She’s the most important lady in his life now,” Britt sighed.
“She is, but do not underestimate the power you still have over him,” Merlin warned. “You are his King. I said it before, but the love he has given you was never the romantic kind. That means Laudine’s entrance into his life has not taken away any bit of the love he has for you. It is the same for all of your knights.”
Britt turned around to look at her men. Sir Bedivere had arrived and was laughing with Sir Griflet—his relative—about Ywain’s newly married status.
“I can’t believe so much time has passed already,” Britt said. She smiled at Mordred and Kay—who was discussing jousting techniques.
Merlin frowned and swatted at a fly. “Yes, I believe that is a common affliction with those who are like you.”
“Like me? You mean kings?”
“Hm? Oh, certainly,” Merlin said, going evasive. “Back to young Ywain. You seem afraid he will never come to Camelot.”
“Unless we are in deep need, I don’t think it’s likely,” Britt said.
“Pish posh,” Merlin snorted. “You are forgetting one very important thing.”
“What is that?”
“During the winter, water freezes.”
“So?”
“That magical fountain Lady Laudine is so concerned with will freeze, leaving Ywain free during the winter months.”
Britt blinked. “Oh…I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Every knight you set loose will have a similar time when they will yearly return to you. Fret not, lass. Just as they are important to you, you are important to them,” Merlin said. He flashed a smile at her before scowling. “This stupid fly!”
Britt relaxed, lulled by Roen’s rocking walk and the singing of birds. Although she was still conflicted about Ywain and his sudden marriage, the event had significantly cheered her…because things were finally returning to normal with Merlin. She still loved him, and she knew Blaise’s kindly-meant prompts were misinformed, but it didn’t matter. Life in Camelot was much more fun if she and Merlin were laughing and chattering rather than living with the silent tension that had plagued their conversations and actions for nearly a year. If Merlin didn’t want anything more, she could force herself to be content with friendship. She would rather do that than lose the relationship they had.
She lazily yawned. “Who else do you think will stay?”
“What?” Merlin asked as both he and his horse gave the fly the stink-eye.
“You said earlier you some—like Tor and Griflet—would stay at Camelot. Who else?”
“Gawain will, if he can,” Merlin said. “And so, I imagine, would Lancelot.”
Britt’s expression turned sour. “What.”
“Lancelot loves the female gender too much to tie himself to one, and he thrives in a place like Camelot.”
Britt made a noise of disgust. “He’s a prince. Doesn’t he have lands to rule?”
“Yes, but his father is young and healthy. I imagine it will be decades before he is needed,” Merlin said.
“Great. Thank you for ruining my hopes and dreams,” Britt complained.
“Percival might. I would think it is likely his father will encourage him to marry a lady from your court. All of your vassals will stay—like Bedivere, Kay, Bodwain, and Ulfius.” Merlin hesitated. “As will I.”
Merlin offered his presence casually, drawing Britt’s attention. She would have taken his presence for granted—uniting Britain was his dream, after all. But Merlin didn’t—wouldn’t—look at her, and fussed over his horse. He was almost bashful.
No. I just decided I would be fine with friendship. I’m not going to look for something that isn’t there. “Good,” Britt said. “There’s no way I’m going to suffer Lancelot’s presence alone.”
“Mordred might stay as well,” Merlin continued.
Britt patted Roen on the neck. “Mordred? He’s not even a Knight of the Round Table.”
“Yes, but I expect you’ll receive his oath any day now,” Merlin said. “You will treat him with proper respect when he does. I saw you whispering assumedly vile things to Lancelot when you dubbed him the Queen’s Champion. You cannot do that with Mordred—we still do not know whom we would anger by doing so.”
“It doesn’t matter; I wouldn’t do that to Mordred.”
“Why not?”
“For starters, he hasn’t stabbed me in the back.”
“You hold grudges the way squirrels hoard food.”
“And you are more concerned with politics and relations than a father looking to marry off his daughter.”
Merlin gave her a slanted grin. “You artless piece of baggage.”
“Washed up hack,” Britt returned.
“Ho-ho, what’s this? Did you not learn your lesson last time, or are you that eager to while away the long hours of this ride in Lancelot’s company?”
Britt tried to glare at him, but couldn’t help the peal of laughter that escaped her. Yes, I have missed this.
“My butt,” Britt moaned as she slid from Roen’s saddle. “I haven’t done a cross-country ride in ages.”
Merlin unbuckled a saddlebag. “What of your holiday with Mordred?”
“We took a lot of breaks. And you can’t fool me—I saw you wince when you touched the ground.”
“That’s because I’m getting old, and my joints hurt,” Merlin groused.
“Nonsense. You’re not much older than I am,” Britt snorted.
Merlin pressed his lips together and said nothing in response.
“May I take your horse, My Lord?” a stable boy asked.
Britt rolled her shoulders back with a groan. “Please, and thank you.”
“My Lord!” Lady Guinevere gushed. The pretty lady ran into the inner courtyard—her dress floating around her like a flower. Morgan was on her heels. Together, the two came and embraced her.
“Guinevere, and my dearest sister.” Britt hugged Morgan first.
“Lady Vivien is right behind us,” Morgan whispered in Britt’s ear.
“It’s so good to see you,” Lady Guinevere squealed, playing her part perfectly.
I really must thank her some day for her help in this, Britt thought as she hugged her. “Indeed, I am glad to be home.” She winked at Guinevere. Morgan gave Merlin a haughty look before she approached Kay.
“King Arthur, how glad I am that you have returned to us,” Lady Vivien said with a beautiful smile as she glided across the courtyard.
“Take my arm,” Britt whispered to Guinevere, who claimed it as if she and Britt were commonly entwined. “Lady Vivien, I hope Camelot continued to warmly receive you in my absence.”
“Of course,” Lady Vivien said.
Sir Ulfius hurried out from the castle. “Welcome home, My Lord. If you don’t mind, I have several important documents for you to see.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll come now—thank you, Sir Ulfius. If you’ll excuse us, Lady Vivien,” Britt said.
“Us?” Lady Vivien asked, tilting her head.
“Shall we, Guinevere?” Britt asked, smiling at the younger girl.
Guinevere glowed with happiness. “Yes!”
Britt nodded to Vivien, then headed for the castle keep, Guinevere still holding her arm and gliding along beside her.
“I have so much to tell you, Arthur,” Guinevere started as they drew closer to the castle doors. “Blancheflor, Clarine, and I went to the lake where the Lady of the Lake calls home. We, we didn’t see her…”
“Yes?” Britt patiently asked.
“But, but…” Guinevere said, stumbling.
“Guinevere, are you alright?” Britt asked, pausing when she realized the girl was gasping oddly.
“I don’t feel very well,” Guinevere said before dropping like a rock.
“Guinevere! Merlin, Morgan, help!” Britt shouted. She caught the younger girl before she hit the stone ground and gently laid her down. Guinevere’s eyes were shut, and her chest heaved oddly.