by K. M. Shea
Lancelot clenched the hilt of his sword. “Very well. I now see the imaginative picture of me you have painted in your mind. But I hope you will allow me to point out the hypocrisy of your words.”
Britt frowned. “What?”
Lancelot stabbed a finger in Merlin’s direction. “The man you so clearly love is just as ruthless and cunning as I. You talk about serving those beneath you? When has he ever done that? Merlin is perfectly willing to sacrifice anyone to see his goals accomplished.”
Britt’s mind screamed. How did he know? No one besides Merlin himself—and his mentor, Blaise—knew of her affection for him. Not one knight had picked up on it before! Caught off guard, she blurted out, “That’s not true!”
“Isn’t it? Do you deny that he has made you go against your own will and befriend those you would rather cast out? The fact that he used you, a woman who was clearly not from Britain, to be king only proves my point. He will disrupt anyone’s life if he sees a gain in it!”
There was a sliver of truth to Lancelot’s tirade, which is what made it particularly dangerous. Though Merlin had told Britt he was sorry he brought her back to medieval Britain, she knew he would do it again.
“He may be cunning, as you are,” Britt acknowledged, “but his heart is as far away from yours as day is from night. He does not put airs on himself, nor does he scheme in order to further his name. If he has any fault in his motivation, it is that he sees too much of the big picture and is too concerned with the well-being of Britain that the lives of those in front of him occasionally are overlooked.”
Lancelot’s chin rose. “You make excuses for him only because you love him.”
Britt clenched her hands into fists. “It’s not an excuse, but a fact. When you come to love someone enough that you would willingly lay down your life for them at no personal gain, then you will understand why I love Merlin.”
He shook his head. “I’ve heard enough. You are either a hypocrite, or daft. You hold it against me that I am not one of your mindless do-good followers, but at least I see the world as it truly is!” Lancelot stomped back to the campfire, where he snatched up his pack and belongings. “I may not aid everyone under the sun, but at least I do not judge them with your stiff-necked condescension!”
Britt watched worriedly as he tacked up his horse and secured his bags on its back. He mounted the dapple gray and turned it savagely in a tight circle. “One day you will look back and regret this night,” he vowed.
Britt pressed her lips together as she gazed up at him. “I doubt it.”
Lancelot glared at her, then kicked his horse. Regardless that it was the middle of the night, he rode off, quickly disappearing into the darkness though his horse’s hoof beats did not fall out of hearing range for some time.
Britt drooped and rubbed her eyes. “That could’ve gone better.” She turned, and her heart dropped into her toes when Merlin’s blue eyes met her gaze.
“I don’t believe it could have been a smoother conversation, even if you had been prepared for it.” Merlin shrugged off his blankets and stood with a groan. Absentmindedly, he patted his horse on the neck.
Britt scuffed her boot in the grass. “Are you going to yell at me?”
“Why would I?”
“Because I just ticked Lancelot off, and he is the son of one of our important allies?”
Merlin released a bark of laughter. “With Rome storming Britain, King Ban and King Bors will come regardless of how you treat their children. Too much rides on our battle against Rome for them to stay out of it. And I’m certain that by the time the war is over, Lancelot will be back in Camelot.”
“Yeah, he has too many admirers there.” Britt pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel a blush building on her cheeks. Merlin had heard the majority of their conversation, or at least he seemed to have. If that was so, he certainly also heard her defense of him, and Lancelot’s accusation that she was in love with Merlin.
She and Merlin were on uneasy ground. Since the start of this mission, they had returned to their straightforward friendship, but there were still some rather perplexing depths to their relationship. First and foremost was the fact that Merlin knew Britt loved him, and that he had thoroughly kissed her before pretending to fall for Vivien’s spell.
Still, if he wasn’t going to broach the topic, she certainly wasn’t going to! “I wish I had guarded my temper better,” she said, anxious to fill the silence.
Merlin shrugged. “I saw confrontation building between you two for some time now. Truth be told, it is probably just as well that Lancelot realizes how clearly you see him. He’s a good knight, but if you angered him at the wrong time, he would become an equally great liability.”
“So you agree with my estimation of him, then.” Britt smiled widely. Her dislike of Lancelot in the beginning of her reign had been a point of contention between her and Merlin.
Merlin scratched his neck. “I wasn’t too worried until he discovered that you were female. His actions grew—what was that word you use—‘shadier’ after that.” He ambled up to Britt and lifted her chin with his fingers so she met his gaze. “Try not to worry about it. It’s more important that we finish scouting and return to Camelot. Ireland and Scotland are far bigger concerns than Lancelot at this moment.”
Britt wanted to nod, but the enamored part of her brain loathed the idea of taking her chin from Merlin’s grasp.
They stared at each other for several long moments. Merlin furrowed his blonde eyebrows. “Britt…”
Back at the campfire, Percival stirred. He sat up and sleepily looked around. “Where’s Lancelot?”
Britt leaped back from Merlin. “We had a talk. He left.”
Percival blinked blearily. “I beg your pardon?”
Britt joined him at the fire and thumped him on the shoulder, her heart still beating erratically. “I’ll explain in the morning. Go back to bed.”
Percival nodded and was asleep before he finished lying down.
Britt turned back to Merlin, but the wizard was already rearranged in his blankets, his eyes closed.
Britt rubbed the back of her neck, unsheathed Excalibur, and strode back to her practice area. Knowing she had no chance of finding sleep now, she threw herself into practice, unaware that Merlin’s eyes followed the striking picture she made as she whirled Excalibur around her.
Lancelot’s horse tossed its head, jingling its bridle when he angrily snapped the reins. The horse snorted and pranced a few steps, then calmed as they continue down the forest path.
Lancelot, however, was not so easily pacified.
How dare she!
Lancelot knew Britt held him in distain, but he suspected it was because she disapproved of his popularity with the females. When he pressured her to admit it, he never imagined the wrath she would pour out on him.
“I am not dishonorable!” Lancelot ground his teeth together. “She’s just self-righteous and overly emotional. I do countless good for Camelot, for her!”
He ducked a branch that boasted buds in the first sign of spring foliage. He was so furious, he rode without thinking. He didn’t care where he was going, nor did he care what happened to King Arthur and the party of spies.
“She wants all of her knights to act out of goodness and kindness only? What an unrealistic, daydreaming fool she is.”
He knew from the anger burning in his gut that he was mad not because she insulted him, but because she was right…and she was one of the few people he actually wanted to befriend. Instead, she had thrown his faults in his face, all too clearly able to see through his smiles and falsified good cheer. She had completely and utterly rejected him, and that was even more intolerable than being ignored.
Rage boiled in Lancelot’s veins. “She doesn’t think I’m good enough, does she? Fine. It is time I show her exactly what I’m capable of. But how should I tackle that self-righteousness of hers?”
Angry as he was, Lancelot still knew she was a good ruler. Her pr
esence had brought more peace to Britain in the last few years than it had experienced in decades. He had no desire to see that change, for he enjoyed his recreational life as a knight. Even he wouldn’t risk peace and prosperity for a bit of revenge. Camelot would have to be left alone. But after the insults she had laid on him? Britt Arthurs—the woman, not the king—needed to be brought to her knees.
But how…
Lancelot absentmindedly turned his gelding down a fork in the road. He paused, then turned around in the saddle to glance back at the fork, cursing colorfully when he realized he had automatically begun the journey back to Camelot—the dedicated territory of the person he most wanted to hurt at the moment.
But where else could he go? Camelot, for better or worse, was his home. He enjoyed his reputation, the adoration, and the respect. He wouldn’t leave it just because of her.
Which brought him back to the topic of revenge. How could he teach her the lesson she so badly needed?
“I say, Sir Lancelot! Fancy meeting you here!” Lady Vivien, riding a dainty chestnut mare, simpered as she approached Lancelot from the opposite direction.
Lancelot cleared his stormy expression, easily sliding on a brilliant smile. “Lady Vivien! You are as beautiful as ever. But why are you so far from the safety of Camelot?”
“I fear Camelot has lost much of its charm with its brave knights, king, and chief advisor gone. With the company in such dire straits, I had no choice but to search for you all myself!” Vivien smiled beautifully, but Lancelot was not deceived.
The pretty girl was undoubtedly a Roman spy. He knew when she first arrived at court and assumed Merlin knew as well. (He must’ve, based on the way he threw himself between Vivien and Britt.) Undoubtedly, she was chasing after them because she was worried the obvious love spells she’d placed on Merlin were no longer working, or because she wished to sniff out new information to pass on to her superiors.
Though Lancelot still raged at Britt, traitor he was not. “King Arthur and his brave knights, as well as clever Merlin, still ride south. They are seeking after the Holy Grail, which our king saw in a vision. I was spoken to by God himself, and I felt moved to return to Camelot as my part of the quest has been completed.”
“The Holy Grail? I see…. That is indeed a quest worthy of undertaking.” Vivien gathered up her reins with a smile. “I would wish you safe travels, but I believe it is unnecessary, for you are a knight with unmatched strength.”
Lancelot bowed his head. “You are too kind, Lady Vivien.”
“Not at all!” Vivien said with a laugh she probably meant to be charming, but it sounded more like a screeching bird. “Though I would dearly love to tarry with you, I feel I must move on. I do miss Merlin so, and I am fearfully worried for brave Arthur. What would happen to Britain, should he be injured?”
What a twit. It is beyond me how anyone can mistake her as a mere girl. She reminds me of a spider that eats her own kind. “I would not worry excessively after the king. He is greatly skilled at the sword.” Not to mention she has a magic scabbard.
Lancelot paused and considered the thought. Britt Arthurs has a magic scabbard…. Yes, I know exactly how our dear little king can be brought down the step or two she deserves.
Vivien did not notice his thoughtful expression. “Yes, it is quite silly of me, for Merlin is also powerful and can surely keep the entire party safe—though there are magic users about who seem stronger than him.” She smiled smugly. “But my affection for him, and my admiration for the king, makes me do silly things. If you’ll excuse me, Sir Lancelot.”
“It speaks highly of your character, Lady Vivien. Though before you go, please allow me to assure you—dear King Arthur is not in any danger,” Lancelot said with a smile—one that held a hint of malice.
Vivien pushed her eyebrows up her forehead. “Oh?”
“Indeed,” Lancelot said to the Roman spy. “You see, the scabbard of Excalibur keeps him from bleeding…”
Chapter 8
Poor Love Affairs
Britt and the party rode south for only one more day after her argument with Lancelot before Merlin declared it was high time they return to Camelot.
“Are you really sure we should stop our survey?” Britt asked Merlin. They rode side-by-side as Gawain and Percival led the way, comparing jousting techniques.
“Yes,” Merlin said. “To begin with, we have enough information to make basic inferences that will greatly affect our planning—such as the likely scale of the conflict. But, most importantly, our priority is making certain you make a swift return. Our allies will begin pouring into Camelot if Kay has done his job right. You must be there so the plans can commence.”
“Doesn’t that mean it’s just as important to have you there as well?” Britt asked. “You are the tactician, after all.”
Merlin shrugged—which was more of a heaving motion as he was still bundled up in a wool cloak. “If I miss a meeting or two, it will be no great matter.”
Shocked, Britt turned and gaped at the usually meddlesome wizard. “What did you say?”
“You are perfectly capable of conducting a meeting between dignitaries—you’ve had plenty of practice thanks to the Round Table.”
“But you trust me to run the show? Alone?”
“With Sir Bodwain, Sir Ulfius, and Sir Ector at your side, yes,” Merlin said. “You’ve proven yourself to be a great leader, Britt. I’m certain you’ll be fine.”
Still in shock, Britt stared at Roen’s mane. “I don’t know what to say…though I wonder what I could bring up that you usually forbid me from mentioning. Perhaps I could tell King Ban what a prat his son is.”
Merlin narrowed his eyes at her. “Let it be added that if you abuse my confidence in you, I will place Sir Lancelot in the squad of knights that will serve as your guard during the battles to come.”
She winced. “That’s playing dirty!”
“It would be exactly as you deserve,” Merlin said.
Britt chuckled. They rode in companionable silence for a few moments before she ventured, “Do you think he’ll willingly ride with me?”
Merlin glanced at her. “Lancelot is many things, but close to his bones is a desire for recognition. There’s no better place to make a name for himself than at Camelot, and no better way to further his reputation than by serving as your best knight. It might take him some time to cool off, but I’m certain he’ll show up before we ride against Rome.”
“Arthur?” Gawain called.
Britt shifted her attention to her supposed nephew, surprised by the use of her alias. “Yes?”
“A lady approaches.” Gawain gestured to a woman mounted on a horse, lingering at the edge of the forest towards which they rode. “I believe it may be Lady Vivien.”
The news was a slug to Britt’s gut. She glanced at Merlin, who furrowed his eyebrows as worry lines spread across his forehead. He covered his eyes and squinted. “Yes. It is her.” Immediately, but with great casualness, Merlin directed his horse away from Britt and Roen.
“Merlin! Your Highness! Greetings!” Vivien waved and giggled loudly when Merlin nudged his horse into a canter.
Britt watched their reunion with a forced expression of indifference. “Perfect,” she sighed. “Just perfect.”
“Lady Vivien!” Merlin said in a delighted tone. “You are as lovely as a vision. How I have missed you!”
“And I, you. I simply couldn’t bear to be parted from you any longer,” Vivien lied. (She probably figured out they were up to something and rode after them in hopes of uncovering more info to feed her Roman contacts.)
“While I rejoice in your affection, I must say it grieves my heart that you rode this far without an escort,” Merlin said.
Vivien flapped a hand. “There’s nothing in this area that could harm me.” She looked past Merlin and waved to Britt, Percival, and Gawain. “I heard from Sir Lancelot that you were searching for the Holy Grail. Did you find it?”
Alarmed, Britt exch
anged glances with Gawain. “When did you meet Lancelot?”
“Yesterday. It was he who told me you were traveling south, though it appears you began the journey back to Camelot?” Vivien asked.
Roen, catching on to Britt’s unease, snorted. Britt patted his neck and pulled him to a stop when they joined Merlin and Vivien. “Indeed.”
“And the Holy Grail?” Vivien persisted.
Britt was torn between worry that Lancelot had said something to Vivien and trying to come up with a believable excuse.
She was relieved when Percival smoothly stepped in. “We could not claim it. I don’t believe any mortal man could claim it, for it is a holy relic, but we did see it rise back up to heaven in a vision. It was a glorious thing, and perhaps the most important quest I have departed on since I became a knight.” Percival gazed so piously up at the heavens, for a second Britt almost looked up as well—he was that believable.
“To even see the Holy Grail, to witness the splendor and glory, is a great thing,” Merlin said. “I believe we can consider the quest of the Holy Grail finished.”
“It was an inspiring thing,” Britt agreed. “But, I am eager to make haste towards Camelot.”
Vivien tilted her head and widened her eyes. “Why?”
Britt internally reamed herself out.
“Because I…miss Guinevere. Yes, I much desire to see her!” Britt held a hand over her heart for impact.
Vivien smiled, though clearly it was only skin deep. “How admirable it is to see two people so deeply in love. But perhaps you are not that deeply in love, for she is not your queen.”
Gawain frowned. “King Arthur is an honorable man, and before Guinevere joined him in Camelot, he made a vow that he would not marry until he became King over all of Britain. He will see that promise through, and then the entire country will rejoice with him.”