Kingdom Untold
Brittni Chenelle
Copyright © 2019 by Brittni Chenelle
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
This novel is for my loving parents who made me believe I could be anything I wanted and show me by example, how to live a joyful life.
Contents
1. Charlotte
2. Minseo
3. Charlotte
4. Young
5. Charlotte
6. Minseo
7. Charlotte
8. Young
9. Charlotte
10. Minseo
11. Arthur
12. Charlotte
13. Lancelot
14. Minseo
15. Charlotte
16. Young
17. Charlotte
18. Arthur
19. Minseo
20. Charlotte
21. Arthur
22. Young
23. Charlotte
24. Merlin
25. Charlotte
26. Minseo
27. Young
28. Charlotte
29. Lancelot
30. Charlotte
31. Merlin
32. Minseo
33. Charlotte
34. Young
35. Merlin
36. Charlotte
37. Minseo
38. Lancelot
39. Charlotte
40. Merlin
41. Young
42. Arthur
43. Charlotte
44. Merlin
45. Young
46. Arthur
47. Charlotte
48. Minseo
49. Arthur
50. Charlotte
51. Minseo
52. Young
53. Charlotte
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Also by Brittni Chenelle
1
Charlotte
The only thing darker than that moonless night was my betrayal of Merlin.
Two months earlier, I stood beside the west stables, Merlin’s gaze clawing at my face. “You’re not focusing,” she pushed, her seafoam braids tied in a bun on her head.
I stared at my empty palm with full knowledge that a flame would never light in it. It had been a month since I’d been imprisoned in Arthur’s castle and there was no doubt Merlin had become suspicious that I wasn’t the mage I’d implied. I’d been able to barter a place in the castle for Jay Hyun to keep watch over me, but I hadn’t seen him since I entered Arthur’s castle. I heard they sent him away just three days after we arrived. My fate was left to Merlin, yet her faith in me and hope that we were the same compelled me to put up a show of effort.
What I hadn’t expected was how quickly we’d form a bond, one incomparable to any I’d experienced. Our ties were made from openness, which was a stark contrast to any other relationship I’d formed. I was always hiding something; from my family, for the sake of propriety, from Gabriel for the sake of secrecy, and from Minseo for the sake of the sadness that some topics brought. Merlin was open, soft, and uplifting. We talked about everything: our hopes and dreams, love, the meaning of life, topics that reminded me just how connected all of humanity was. We quickly considered each other kindred, which is why she seemed determined to bring any trace of magic out of me.
But we were bound more than by our conversations. The dragon we’d discovered, Garix, had grown to the size of a large dog, too big to remain hidden away in Merlin’s quarters.
With some crafty magic by Merlin and Garix’s obedience inexplicably tied to the metallic band on my wrist, we’d snuck him to an empty stable.
“Come on,” Merlin said. “Feel your body.” I kept my eyes shut with concentration, but instead of feeling magic swell inside me, the way Merlin described, I felt Garix’s blood pulse through him. I felt the beat of his growing heart. He remained hidden in the stable a few yards away, yet in my subconscious, I could feel him.
As Garix’s appetite grew, more quickly than Merlin and I could keep up with on our own, we had to enlist help from two of Arthur’s servants but, with each new person in our circle, the higher the risk became that Arthur would find out.
“Focus,” Merlin said, her frustration fully unmasked.
I channeled my emotions, pushing them to my hand. Picturing the flame as I’d seen on Merlin’s palm. I willed the flame to light.
A screech sounded and I spun to see the stables burst into red hot flames.
“What happened?” I screamed, running toward the smoke.
“Garix!” Merlin cried, her long legs carrying her past me. With a wave of her hand, she lifted the water from the troughs, pushing the liquid mass together like a great airborne river. The water was clear enough to see through but distorted the burning stable behind it, thrashing about like a living being. I slowed to marvel as Merlin whipped the flames with the magical stream and doused the fire.
I shook the unusual sight from my head and sprinted into the stable. Garix’s dewy scales sparkled with the droplets of water from Merlin’s spell. He gleefully snapped at the ashes of the burned debris as they drifted past him. The tension in my body drained. He was unharmed. My heart warmed as I watched him play. He reminded me more and more of Morgana as he grew. How I missed her bright spirit. I missed her little hands and endless stories. I even missed the sound of her name, for it was the one truth from my past I dare not mention to Merlin.
The leftover warmth was promptly sucked out the open stable doors and windows.
Merlin exhaled with relief before the chaos of what happened finally sunk in.
I turned to Merlin. “Did he just breathe fire?”
She lifted a weary hand to her head. “Maybe he did it because of your spell?”
Reaching out for Garix, I ran my fingers along his cool scales. Relieved to find him unharmed, I surveyed the blackened walls of the barn. “But why hasn’t he breathed fire before?”
Merlin’s eyes shot open. “Shit, the smoke!”
“Quick, blow it away!” I shouted, but Merlin’s glossy, unfocused gaze and slumped posture meant she was through. Water was the element that drained her most, which is why I’d only seen her wield it twice. I sprinted out of the smoky stable while Merlin stayed inside to combat as much of the smoke as possible.
Sure enough, when I scanned the side of the courtyard, nearest to the castle, three soldiers rode towards us. No. Not soldiers, knights.
I squinted at them, hoping Lancelot was among them. He had kept our secret thus far, so perhaps Merlin and I could signal him to reroute the other two.
My hopes dissolved as the figures of Lamorak, Galahad, and Percival came clearly into view. Not these three.
Lamorak and Percival were twin brothers, freckle cheeked with red-orange hair. They were never more than three feet apart and I would have believed them attached at the hip if not for them riding toward me on separate horses. Their starkly different personalities were so unbalanced, and their actions intertwined, that they seemed to be two halves of one man. Percival would do nearly anything for a laugh and Lamorak could never be found without a sour pout. It resembled a party trick more than a way of being, and they were quick to draw attention. The same traits that made them bothersome to behold were what made them deadly on the battlefield, a fact that Galahad, a square-jawed man with raven black hair often spouted the moment anyone let on their irritation with the twins.
“You there!” Galahad called. Though we’d been introduced, I
’d never heard him call me by name. Perhaps I wasn't important enough to remember.
His dark eyes bore into my soul with a twisted smile that could unnerve the steeliest of men. But those things were secondary. One look at Galahad, or rather his sword, sent a hellish surge of rage and sorrow through me that never failed to knock the wind from my lungs. The dragon-hilted sword I'd given to Young on the eve of our wedding now rested in the scabbard of a wicked man. The sword, the one that matched my own dagger, was a reminder of all that was taken from me, and Galahad flaunted it any chance he could, even threatened me with it on occasion, while his knowing eyes scoured my face for a reaction.
“Hello, Sir Galahad. No need to worry, it was just a little training accident. It’s under control,” I said.
His horse came to an abrupt halt in front of me, blocking out the sun and haloing his head in light. The redheaded twins followed closely behind. Lamorak’s furrowed brow expressed his growing concern as his blue eyes drifted past me toward the shed while Percival picked at his nails with disinterest.
“Where’s Merlin?” Lamorak asked, his voice far more musical than his unapproachable demeanor.
Garix, don’t move. Stay quiet.
“Merlin!” I called with a gritted smile that was so forced my jaw twinged with pain.
Galahad’s posture relaxed when Merlin stepped into view, and I understood that they’d been worried I hurt her.
Percival groaned, “Can we get lunch now?”
Lamorak snapped, “It’s not yet noon, you oaf.”
Galahad rolled his eyes but didn’t engage. His gaze lingered on me. “How about a demonstration,” his voice boomed.
No.
“I apologize, Sir Galahad. I’m all out of stamina for today.”
He nodded toward Merlin. “She looks out of stamina.”
“You look like you don’t possess an ounce of magical ability.”
I turned to Merlin. She’d been covering for me for the last month, but she was in no state to fool them today. Galahad had suspicions about me from the very start. I turned back to him. “I’m sorry, sir.”
His face darkened. “Are you refusing?” He dismounted his horse, stepping closer to me. “You know, Arthur has been asking for a volunteer among his knights to pay a little visit to Vires...”
My stomach tightened.
“Collect taxes, punish traitors.” He smiled. “That sort of thing. I’ve been cooped up in Bullhorn too long anyway.”
I seethed at the implication. My heart racing, my blood boiling as it coursed through my body.
“Isn’t your husband there?”
“Enough,” Lamorak interjected. Galahad looked as bewildered by the interruption as I felt. Lamorak’s gaze met Galahad’s, the hard line across Lamorak’s forehead a cipher Galahad quickly decoded.
He sighed, the tension in his shoulders relaxing, and the moment passed like the ashes of the stable in the wind.
But I didn’t appreciate the threat on Minseo’s life. I shook and felt a twinge of fear at the dark thoughts that crept in.
Without warning, Garix let out a bone-rattling cry, pulling everyone’s attention. He burst from the stable in a crash of unbalanced flight, thrown off by the wild bouts of fire that poured out his widespread jaw.
Galahad drew his sword, “A dragon.” He gaped. “Percival, go alert the king. We found it.”
2
Minseo
I stalked through the moonlit night, Vires cloaked in a silver glow that felt ghostly and unsettling. I made my way to my little brother’s quarters with the single purpose of checking on him. The tiled roofs shone, casting dark shadows along the walls beneath them. I was unnerved by how often I made this journey in the middle of the night. I’d wait outside his room, ear pressed to his door, straining to hear the sound of him tossing in his sleep or even just a snore, anything to calm the throng of my nervous heart.
While Young had returned unharmed, it didn’t stop the nightmares from crippling my sleep. It didn’t quell the worry that I’d wake up, once again, in a world without him.
“Minseo,” a soft voice whispered in the breeze. I turned to see my father, the King of Vires, his eyes tired and heavily lined with age. His gaze was knowing and tranquil. He carried a lantern, the flame flickering with life inside, vanquishing the silver moonlight with a fierce orange glow that lit his face.
“Father, I was just going for a walk,” I said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He nodded, his gaze flickering toward Young’s quarters. “You are a good brother,” he said.
“Sometimes what the mind knows to be true and what the heart fears cannot align.”
I nodded, feeling transparent.
“But fear is not the emotion through which you should live.”
“Yes, father,” I said, but as I reached inside myself for a weapon stronger than fear, I found none. I bowed and turned back toward my room.
My father sighed behind me. “Just be quick about it,” he said. “I need you well rested. We need to discuss something important in the morning.”
I bowed. “Yes, father.”
I heard the shuffle of my father’s footsteps behind me, moving toward his bedroom as I headed for Young’s room. I evened my breathing as I neared it but stopped as I noticed a flicker of light inside the hanji walls.
I moved to the door and steadied my nerves before I whispered, “Young?”
“Minseo? Come in,” he said. My posture slacked with relief as I slid his door open to find him sitting at his desk with a quill in his hand. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
I took a seat in front of him, my curiosity drawn to the blank parchment in front of him. “Yeah, you either?”
He nodded. I drank in his features, still jarred by the five-year difference. He was certainly an adult now. His dark eyes were familiar and unknown to me. His jawline was sharp, his cheekbones angular, and the last wisps of boyhood buried by the hard lines of his mouth.
I resisted the urge to reach out and touch his cheek, still in constant need of reassurance. My brain tolled again and again that he was here. That he wasn’t dead. But my heart remained broken by his loss.
He sucked in a breath, jolting me awake to the fact that the silence that hung in the room was filled with uneasiness and tension. This level of discomfort was new. It had sprung to life with his return, but our inability to communicate was a lifelong trait of brotherhood. Still, it felt worse somehow. Maybe it was because there were so many new things we dared not discuss. Maybe we still needed time to fit back into each other’s lives. But my darkest thoughts warned that it was possible he harbored feelings of hatred for me. After all, I’d pursued Charlotte; I’d fallen in love with her, I convinced her to fall in love with me, and I’d taken on the role of Morgana’s father. And all of this was revealed to him with one small word: “Appa.”
Although it was weeks ago, it was a cloud that hung over our interactions. If I had the nerve, I’d tell him how sorry I was. I’d tell him I’d never come between him and Charlotte again. I’d tell him I planned to help him rescue Charlotte and step aside to allow them the life together they deserved. I wanted to tell him that she never would’ve given in to me if we weren’t certain he was dead. But I dreaded his response. I feared I’d lose him again and, like my father implied, fear was my unwavering companion.
I found my voice. “What are you writing?” I asked.
He looked down at the blank parchment. “I’m not sure.”
Again, the thick veil of uneasiness cloaked the room and my stomach tightened at the memory of how I used to feel beside my brother. I alone was to blame.
3
Charlotte
I knelt before King Arthur, the sharp of Galahad’s blade or, rather, Young's blade, pressing menacingly between two of the bones in my spine. I kept my eyes fixed on the stony marble floor. Its white surface was drenched in deep purples and reds as the light poured through a narrow stained glass window above the throne room, cast
ing a multicolored pattern of light across the floor that looked like a narrow carpet leading to the throne. The room was bizarrely shaped, molded to fit the shape of the mountain it was erected inside. The room steeped, the ceiling highest just above Arthur's golden throne.
Arthur’s throne was more than gold, encrusted with red and orange jewels and lined with purple silks and satin cushions. Such a throne could blend comfortably into the castle of Olympus, but here, it swallowed the tiny stature of the boy with the golden crown, who looked almost like a child when he sat atop it. His feet dangled off the edge, and though he was finally of age, he was still was unable to discard the vale of youth that shrouded him.
Merlin stood tall beside me, unwilling to leave me to my fate. I was a prisoner and her a highly regarded member of Arthur’s army, yet she remained at my side, her power-filled body between Arthur’s and my own.
“So you’re to blame for the missing dragon egg,” Arthur said, his voice inappropriately playful. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what such an object cost.”
“Please, Your Majesty,” Merlin interrupted, her voice shaking with fear. It dawned on me, as I felt her looming over me, that her fear was not for her life but for mine.
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