by K. M. Shea
Endings
Book 7 of King Arthurs and Her Knights
By: K. M. Shea
Copyright © K.M. Shea 2017
ENDINGS
Copyright © 2017 by K. M. Shea
Cover design by Myrrhlynn
Edited by Jeri Larsen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any number whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
www.kmshea.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Characters
Chapter 1: Loss and Gains
Chapter 2: The Return of Duke Maleagant
Chapter 3: Moved by Rome
Chapter 4: Reunited
Chapter 5: The Quest for the Holy Grail
Chapter 6: Lady Ettard and Sir Pelleas
Chapter 7: The Character of Sir Lancelot
Chapter 8: Poor Love Affairs
Chapter 9: A United Britain
Chapter 10: Preparations
Chapter 11: Mustered Forces
Chapter 12: The Fight for Britain
Chapter 13: A New Realm
CHARACTERS
Adelind: Wife of King Pellinore—Queen of Anglesey
Agravain: The second son of King Lot and Queen Morgause of Orkney.
Ban: One of two kings who marched with Britt against Lot and his allies. He is from France, is well groomed, and is said to have a son who is an impressive knight.
Bedivere: A knight Britt met in London when she was crowned King. Britt chose him as her marshal on an impulse, without any input from Merlin.
Bodwain: Britt’s constable and one of Merlin’s Minions.
Bors: One of two kings who marched with Britt against Lot and his allies. He is from France, although he appears to be half bear. His two sons are said to be gallivanting around with King Ban’s son.
Ector: The man who was selected to be Arthur’s foster father. He has taken a similar role in Britt’s life.
Gaheris: The third son of King Lot and Queen Morgause of Orkney.
Gareth: The youngest son of King Lot and Queen Morgause of Orkney.
Gawain: The eldest son of King Lot and Queen Morgause of Orkney.
Griflet: A young, ignorant knight who is related to Sir Bedivere and is close friends with Ywain.
Guinevere: The daughter of King Leodegrance whom Britt dislikes thanks to modern King Arthur stories and legends.
Igraine: Mother of the real Arthur. Uther Pendragon was her second husband.
Kay: Britt’s seneschal and supposed foster brother. He takes Britt’s safety seriously and is often seen writing in a log book.
Lancelot: The only son of King Bors whom Britt despises thanks to modern King Arthur stories and legends.
Leodegrance: King of Camelgrance, one of Britt’s first allies.
Lot: King of Orkney and Britt’s worst enemy. He rallied kings and knights and led them to battle before Britt and her allies overthrew him.
Maleagant: A duke and friend of King Ryence.
Merlin: Britt’s chief counselor who is also responsible for yanking Britt back through time. He openly uses Britt to accomplish his dream of uniting Britain.
Morgause: Daughter of Igraine and Arthur’s half-sister. She is married to King Lot of Orkney and has four sons: Gawain, Agravain, Gaheris, and Gareth.
Morgan le Fay: Daughter of Igraine, Arthur’s half-sister and full sister to Queen Morgause and Queen Elaine. She is known to have magical powers.
Nymue: The beautiful Lady of the Lake who “gave” Excalibur to Britt.
Pellinore: A noble-looking king who attacked Britt with King Lot, King Urien, and King Ryence.
Percival: A Knight of the Round Table and the son of King Pellinore.
Ryence: A cowardly king who attacked Britt with King Lot, King Urien, and King Pellinore.
Tor: The son of a cowherd who is made a knight by Britt. He has a squire named Lem.
Ulfius: An older knight who once served Uther Pendragon and now serves Britt as her chamberlain. He is one of Merlin’s Minions.
Urien: The brother-in-law of King Lot and a king in his own right, Urien fought with Lot, Pellinore, and Ryence against Britt but has since become Britt’s vassal because he believes she holds his son, Ywain, hostage in Camelot.
Uther Pendragon: Considered to be one of the greatest kings of England. He is the real Arthur’s father and died some years ago—leaving all of his lands and money to Arthur.
Ywain: The only son of King Urien. He swore loyalty to Britt after being captured by her men and has revered her ever since. Morgause is his aunt.
Chapter 1
Loss and Gains
Britt couldn’t remember her mom’s voice.
The realization struck her near the midnight watch, as she paced in the small, frost-covered queen’s garden. The moon glowed overhead, casting silver light on the withered plants. Off in the distance a dog barked and soldiers greeted one another as the patrol shifts changed over…and for the life of her, Britt couldn’t remember her mom’s voice.
Her sister’s face—a face she had seen every day of her childhood—was starting to grow hazy, too.
Britt could remember her mom’s gusty laugh and the twinkle in her sister’s eyes. Details like that were easier to recall, but everyday things—like faces and voices—were starting to slip from her memory. Instead, they were replaced with Merlin’s sarcastic barbs, Kay’s twitching mustache, Mordred’s dimpled smile, and Gawain’s clear eyes.
But while she treasured the new, her heart ached with the loss of the old.
“It’s been three years,” she whispered. “Just three! How could I forget them so quickly?”
Three years ago, Britt—an American from the twenty-first century—had been pulled back through time while visiting England. Her time travel was the result of a spell forged by Merlin, who told her Arthur—the boy meant to be King of Britain—had run off with a shepherdess, and she was to take up his identity and rule in his stead.
Britt placed her hand on a stone pillar, seeking support. The stone was so cold it bit her palms, but she barely noticed.
“I’m happy,” she murmured. “My knights accept me—the real me—Camelot is more beautiful than I could imagine, and we are at peace. But…how can I forget who I was, who I really am?” She took a shuddering breath.
“Milord?” one of her guards asked, shifting in the shadows.
Britt offered him a wan smile and waved his concern off. She resumed pacing, as if the exertion would help her recall the exact proportions of her sister’s face.
She paused only when Merlin—his blonde hair white in the silver moonlight—popped around the corner of the garden. He held a sputtering torch, and his forehead wrinkled as he and Britt stared at each other from across the garden.
She forced herself to smile. “Good evening, Merlin.” She used her grin to hide the stabbing pain in her heart.
The lines in his forehead grew deeper, and he took a step towards her. “Lass—”
“Merlin, My Love! Why do you tarry so?” Vivien—beautiful, blonde, and calculating—swept around the corner after Merlin. When she saw Britt, she planted a hand over her heart. “Oh, King Arthur!”
“Good evening, Vivien,” Britt said, nodding.
“Good Evening, Sire!” Vivien smiled—a beautiful and cruel expression—and wrapped her hands possessively around Merlin’s right arm. “It is rather cold to be outside, isn’t it?”
Britt k
ept her eyes on Vivien. Smiling at the black magic user was easier than witnessing Merlin transform into a love-addled idiot before her eyes. “For some, but I dearly love winter.”
Vivien wrinkled her nose. “But spring and summer are so much more romantic with the flowers and the quests you send your knights on! Wouldn’t you agree, Merlin?”
Britt felt her control crumble as Merlin smiled down at the young woman and patted her hands on his arm. “Of course, Lady Vivien,” he said. “But there are no flowers that can compete with your beauty.” His expression was tender as he took one of her hands and kissed it.
Vivien giggled—a high-pitched sound that grated on Britt’s nerves.
Britt knew Merlin’s actions were a farce—an act meant to occupy Vivien, who was a very real threat to Camelot. But it still hurt to see him so affectionate.
She turned slightly, so she could stare out at the gardens instead of at the pair of them.
“If you’ll excuse us, Your Highness,” Vivien started. “Merlin was going to read poetry to me in his study.”
“Of course! I hope you enjoy yourself, Lady Vivien,” Britt said.
“I always do,” Vivien hummed. “Come, Merlin.” She tugged on Merlin’s arm, then released her grip so she could swish her skirts properly.
Britt rubbed her forehead, feeling the pinching promise of a headache. She glanced up when she realized Merlin hadn’t moved.
The light in his blue eyes was worried. He took a breath, as if to say something.
“Merlin? Come along!” Vivien called.
He briefly shut his eyes, then turned on his heels without saying a word.
Britt watched him go, feeling alone and abandoned, even though she knew he deceived Vivien for her sake.
For months, Britt had been in love with Merlin. It had briefly been a point of contention between them, until Britt got the maddening wizard to understand that her love for him wouldn’t jeopardize Camelot and everything they had worked for. She thought friendship was the best she could hope for, but one early morning in summer, he had swept into her room and kissed her soundly.
By the time Britt processed the possibilities of what the kiss meant, Merlin had thrown himself into the role of pretending to be head-over-heels in love with Vivien.
“I just can’t catch a break,” Britt muttered.
“Milord?” a guard inquired.
Britt pushed another smile on her lips. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Well, men, are any of you up for a sword match, or shall we go rouse Mordred or Gawain?”
One of the guards—a big burly man with a thick Scottish accent who had the tendency to act like a nanny—suspiciously eyed her. “It occurred to me, ‘Highness, that it is night, and you best sleep.”
“I’m not tired,” Britt said.
The Scottish guard folded his arms across his chest and looked unconvinced.
“Have you ever gotten a full night’s sleep since you were made king, Milord?” another guard asked.
Britt scowled at her men. Most of them had been with her since she first arrived in Camelot, and all of them were hand-chosen by Kay, her foster-brother, to serve her. The long length of their relationship had naturally developed into a camaraderie—particularly given that besides the Knights of the Round Table, they were the only ones who knew her real gender. Unfortunately, the camaraderie had taken a decidedly bossy turn since Merlin started looking at Vivien with calf-eyes. They knew of her long-held tradition of pacing the walls late into the night—though they didn’t know it was because even three years later she still missed her friends and family from her old life.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Have my sleeping patterns become your duty to safeguard as well?”
“They do affect your physical wellbeing, milord,” the guard said.
She snorted. “What will come next? Will you be teaming up with the kitchen boys to make sure I’m eating right?”
“It’s not a bad idea.”
Britt whirled around at the new voice, a soft smile already spreading on her lips. “Kay! What brings you out here so late?”
Kay nodded to the soldiers as he joined Britt in the garden. “Merlin sent me,” he murmured. Kay looked her up and down with concern, but his presence and words were enough to start soothing the fierce pang in her heart.
She shook her head to clear it, and smiled at her foster brother. “You don’t have to look so worried. It’s just…”
Kay was silent for a moment when she didn’t continue. “You’ll be glad to hear I received word from Father. He should return to Camelot in a few weeks.”
Britt straightened, heartened by the news. (Kay’s father, Sir Ector, had become Britt’s foster-father since her arrival.) “Really? That’s great! …But is he okay? I thought he was going to stay in Bonmaison until spring.”
“He’s getting antsy, so mother decided a visit was in order,” Kay said. “She’ll be coming too…”
Britt and Kay chatted on. Her foster-brother was a steady and warm reminder: she wasn’t alone, not really. Though she sometimes felt so, it was only because her heart was pulled between two times and places. She had her guards, Kay, and her other friends…and Merlin. Yes, Merlin couldn’t break character, but yet he still managed to help her from the shadows.
“Her beauty shines like the sun, and parting from her fills me with such sorrow and longing!” Tristan, one of Britt’s newer knights who had been sworn into the Order of the Round Table (and the secret of Britt’s gender) some months ago with Mordred, sighed. “Iseult is the lady I wish to serve and do great deeds for. Our love is eternal, and there are none that can come close to the depth of our feelings!” he declared, passionately throwing his arms wide.
Britt studied the love-sick knight as she stroked Cavall—her apricot-colored mastiff. “Question: Didn’t you meet Iseult when you were sent to pick her up in Ireland and bring her back to your uncle—who raised you—to be his bride?”
Tristan blinked and dropped his arms. “I did. She is my uncle’s wife, now.”
“And didn’t you mention your love—which you called eternal, might I add—was brought about by a love potion you two ‘happened’ to drink?” Britt continued.
“Indeed,” Tristan said.
“…And you don’t see a problem with that?”
Tristan tilted his head and furrowed his brow in confusion. “No. Why would I?”
Britt stroked Cavall’s velvety side, mostly to keep from smacking herself in the forehead from frustration. “Okay, it seems like we need a lesson in morals and blame-shifting. Lancelot, you better be paying attention—you need to hear this as badly as Tristan.” She jabbed a finger in Lancelot’s direction as she stood, her wooden chair scraping the floor.
Lancelot drew back in over-dramatized shock. “Me, My Lord?”
Britt barely managed to keep a sneer off her face as she met the handsome knight’s green eyes. “Yes, you.” She shifted her gaze so she could address the rest of her knights.
They were gathered around the large, donut-shaped Round Table, each knight seated in his designated chair. Almost every seat was occupied, for it was winter and the knights only set out on quests and adventures in spring and summer. (Pellinore was the only knight missing, Britt noticed. He was probably tied to a chair back in Anglesey. It was the only way his wife could keep him from skipping out on his duties as a king and chasing off after the questing beast and recreant knights.)
Britt placed her hands on the scratched surface of the Round Table and leaned forward. “Married women are strictly off-limits.” She took in the blank looks her knights gave her and adjusted her language. “What I mean is that marriage vows are holy. One must not seek love outside his or her marriage, and so as chivalrous knights, I expect you to honor the sanctity of marriage and refrain from loving a woman who is already spoken for.”
Ywain—who had been in Camelot’s halls since before Christmas, visiting while the magical spring on his lands was frozen and needed no protec
tion—shifted uneasily. “What if she is a widow?” (Ywain had fought and killed a dishonorable knight, and then fell in love with and married his widow.)
“If she’s a widow, it’s fine,” Britt said.
Ywain leaned back in his chair, looking relieved.
His close friend, Sir Griflet, thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “Are we still to help married women if they seek out our aid?”
“Yes,” Britt said. “You should help anyone who needs it. I’m just talking about love. You are not to commit adultery with another man’s wife—do I make myself clear, Lancelot?”
Lancelot ran his hand through his curly black hair that the ladies of Camelot were forever sighing over. “Absolutely, My Lord.”
Britt was unconvinced, particularly because he accented his answer with a smile so flirtatious, she wanted to slap it off his face.
Though Lancelot was undoubtedly one of her most skilled knights, his very presence set her teeth on edge. Mostly it was because Britt knew the legends of the future—the ones in which Lancelot (King Arthur’s best friend) and Guinevere (King Arthur’s wife) fell in love, had an affair, and were essentially responsible for the eventual ruin of Camelot.
Since a young age, Britt had disliked Lancelot due to those stories, which was why now—even though Britt marrying Guinevere, who knew Britt’s true identity, was impossible—she still barely tolerated him. (Which was excusable given that he was a huge player and had a severely inflated ego.)
“But, Britt,” Lancelot continued to her irritation. He said her name like it was some shared secret—as if all the knights of the Round Table didn’t know it! “You have neglected to address one aspect of this unfortunate love affair over which Sir Tristan has no control: the love potion.”