Kingdom Soul

by Brittni Chenelle

  Her gaze met mine. It was not unkind but cold. “Why did Vires ally with Camelot?” she asked. “What does your king have on them?”

  I pushed a braid behind my ear. “The king doesn’t share such details with me.”

  “Then who are you to him?”

  My chest warmed. “I’m his battle mage.”

  “Mage? As in magic?” She stepped back. “So what they say is true. You’re Merlin of Camelot.”

  I paused, waiting for her to connect it all, but her eyes didn’t light with understanding.

  “What does he want with me?” she asked, her curls bouncing around her head like Medusa’s coiled snakes.

  I almost laughed, right there in her face. Was she joking? Did she think I was a fool?

  It wasn’t possible that she didn’t know. By the time I was thirteen, I’d caused enough property damage and sent enough innocent people to the hospital to be burned at the stake—and I would’ve been if not for Arthur. There was only one possibility: Charlotte was lying. I had two options, earn her trust or force it out of her. I preferred the former. There was no reason to make an enemy of her, but it was possible that Arthur had already done that by bringing her here alone. She was dangerous. With such powerful emotions and a score to settle, she was a threat to the king. He was wise to keep her in my charge until we were certain what she could do.

  We stepped into our shared quarters, her bedroom beside mine. The design was meant for new mothers with young children, the second bedroom a private place for the nurses to care for the babies without being too far away from the mother, but it worked for our purposes as well. Charlotte appeared unimpressed with the castle. Was her sadness masking all other emotions or was it her royal upbringing that numbed her to such grandeur? I wanted to ask, but I wasn’t sure how to word it without insulting her. She hardly spoke another word to me as she compliantly lay on her bed, so I returned to my room. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, my stomach tightened as the gentle sniffle and muffled breaths of a broken heart sounded on the other side of the door.

  The next morning, I woke to the dazzling red of a jeweled hilt, the blade an inch above my chest.

  “I’m leaving this castle,” Charlotte said. “Either you help me or you die.” Why use a dagger? A quick gust of wind sent her flying off the bed, the dagger narrowly missing her leg.

  She gasped, out of breath. “Right. Magic.” She dropped her head. “I have a family,” she said, “I know you’re a good person because you saved us once.”

  My mind flashed to the night I first saw her. The handsome medium-skinned man and the little Viran baby. Was that who she meant?

  I eyed her as she pulled herself from the floor and sat down beside me. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?” I asked.

  “What truth?” she burst.

  Frustrated, I leaned closer. “That you can do things!”

  She scrunched her brow. “You mean magic? I can’t. I’m not. I’m not what you think I am,” she stammered. “Is that why Arthur wants me here?”

  ”Ye,.” I pleaded. “You’re like me. Think about it—when you’re scared or worried. Things growing. Sudden wind or unexplained fire.”

  Her face softened, her eyes widening at the word fire.

  Her hand rose to her mouth, her chest heaving with understanding.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “It’s fire, isn’t it? That night when Lance nearly caught you, you started that fire.”

  She turned away from me as if she worried I’d read her mind, but I’d already seen the truth. She’d conjured fire. She was a witch, like me.

  She spoke, her voice cracking, “Yes. Fire.”

  I leapt from the bed, filled with such a surge of excitement I could have turned the bed to dust. I wasn’t alone. She shook—but I understood. I too used to fear that confession. But she was safe. I’d show her that she was safe here, that she could trust me. But how? My thoughts brimmed with possibilities. I’d share one of my secrets. I hurried to my closet and pulled out the silvery rock I'd smuggled from the basement cellar.

  Energy spiraled through me, sending a swirl of unintended wind around me as I carried the strange stone to Charlotte. When she looked up, her eyes were wet.

  “It’s okay, Charlotte. You’re not alone,” I said. Her gaze was fixed on the stone. “I thought I could share one of my secrets with you.” I shifted my weight nervously, “You know, as a show of faith.”

  A soft smile touched the corner of her lips, and she wiped her eyes and stood. “What is it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I found it the other day.” I held it out for her to touch.

  She reached for it. A sickly snap followed by an array of small crunches sounded from the stone as a crack zigzagged up the side.

  35

  Charlotte

  I was not a queen, I was not a princess, and I certainly wasn’t a mage, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that my daughter Morgana may have become all of those things.

  Merlin was mistaken. She wanted it to be true, she wanted me to be like her, she wanted not to be alone. She wasn’t alone. My daughter understood. My daughter had stories to tell and, while I’d always listened, I never understood. Magic and fire, the starring role in all her stories. How had I missed it? Was it because, before all of this, there had been no magic in the world, or had I ignored the signs, desperate for my child to live the ordinary life I craved? I knew they’d go after her. I knew my lie wouldn’t hold for long, but maybe I could buy her a little time.

  I reached out to touch the mirror-like ball, certain it was a royal ornament, but before my fingers could brush the smooth surface, the stone split. My first thought was that Merlin had done something to it with magic, but her face flashed with bewilderment. She yanked back her hands and I instinctively bent and caught it.

  In an instant, I regretted it. The stone was warm. It moved from the inside, something jabbing at my hands like an irregular heartbeat. The pulse increased, cracking the stone with each thrash. I worried it would slip through my fingers as the weight shifted inside. Through a crevice, I saw a glossy yellow eye—like a cat’s but twice the size. Paralyzed with fear, I stared down at it. It calmed and poked a pointy green-scaled nose through the crack. It flashed a red, two-pointed tongue and sucked it back before it stretched, breaking the last of the silvery shell, sending pieces crackling to the floor. Talon-ribbed wings outstretched, it peered at me.

  Merlin gaped, “A dragon.”

  The creature climbed out of its shell, perching on my wrist, its body heat warming my chest and face. Its body was lizard-like but sharp-fanged and nimble. Its scales were soft to the touch and as shiny as the egg it hatched from. I froze with fear. “Merlin… take it. Take your dragon.”

  The creature's neck shot back, and a soft blue glow emanated from its throat.

  “Merlin,” I said, nervous to spook it. It spewed blue flame at my arm and, without hesitation, I yanked my hand back and tossed it into the air.

  “Kill it!” I screamed as the creature flew clumsily around the room, knocking into walls and tangling itself in the chandelier. We ducked as it swooped down at us. I grabbed a candlestick. “Kill it, Merlin!” I screamed.

  She shook her head. “I-I… I don’t know what to do.”

  I swatted at it with the candlestick and it screeched with delight. “It’s your dragon. Do something!”

  Merlin threw her head back and burst into laughter, clutching her stomach and gasping for air. I swatted mindlessly at the flying lizard before I collapsed on her, and we roared with laughter. Tears streamed down our faces as we struggled to pull our sanity together, ducking at the occasional crash of broken objects around the room that prompted more laughter. “Control—” I sobbed, my cheeks sore from laughing. “Control your dragon.” I sighed. “And this is my life now. You know, nothing surprises me anymore.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Merlin said, finally able to bring herself to words. “I had no idea that wa
s a dragon egg—or that dragons were actually real.”

  “So I guess you’re opposed to shooting it down? I think it burned my ar—“ I stopped, looking down at my wrist, but instead of blotchy red skin, I found a silvery bracelet clasped tightly around it. It was the same smoothness and sheen as the dragon egg had been. “What’s this?” I said, shaking it at Merlin.

  I tried pulling at it, but it was too tight to slip off my hand. The dragon slammed back into the chandelier with a loud crash. We took cover, Merlin taking my wrist. Her hand lit with an aqua flame that she held to the bracelet. After several seconds, she took my wrist out of the flame and held it to her cheek.

  Her eyes flicked to me. “Still cool.”

  I sighed as the dragon thrashed about, caught in the chandelier. The ceiling creaked, threatening to give out.

  “For god’s sake, dragon, just sit down.”

  The green beast calmed, stretched its wings, and glided down. It sat in front of me, the tip of its nose raising and lowering with curiosity.

  36

  Lancelot

  It was the day of the ceremony, my final moments as the street urchin I was. Knighthood meant my family would live among the nobility forever—my bloodline permanently stained blue.

  There was only one loose end left: Merlin. I hadn’t seen her or Charlotte since we arrived at the castle. I knew they must be busy training, but Merlin was now a threat; she knew my secret. That was the kind of secret that got a newly knighted soldier beheaded around here. Of course, Arthur hated getting his hands dirty and much preferred to imprison those who opposed him, but every so often, someone would cross a line and lose their head. This was my moment, and I didn’t want to kneel before Arthur and wonder if he would knight me or lop my head off then and there.

  I took a deep breath outside Merlin’s chamber. How would I handle this? Would I try to appeal to her feelings for me? It wasn’t a long-term plan. Eventually, she’d realize I was bound to only Gwenevere and she’d have just the leverage to get revenge. I could leverage our friendship, though. Four years on the road together. Sparring partners, drinking companions. A crash sounded from the inside of the chamber and I felt relieved that she was in there. The ceremony was set to begin in an hour, and I was grateful not to have to search for her.

  I knocked and held my breath until the door swung open and Merlin’s slender body stepped into the frame. “Lance,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder.

  I cleared my throat. “Can I come in?”

  “No,” she said quickly. The clang of crunching metal blasted from behind her. “Charlotte is training.”

  “Look, Merlin, we’ve been friends for a long time. I wanted to know if— Well… if you were going to say anything to Arthur about—”

  A heavy thud rattled the chandelier behind her. I tried to look but she stepped into my line of sight. “So you’re still not planning on stopping?” She sighed. “We’re friends, you say?” she asked with a smile. “And I suppose you want me to protect you?”

  For a split second, my nerves soothed.

  “I love how we’re always friends when it’s convenient for you.” Her bedroom rattled behind her. “Gwenevere is married to Arthur.”

  I fought my urge to turn away and check the area for listening ears.

  “I say we let it all out at your little ceremony today and we’ll just let you get what you deserve.”

  “I don’t know why you’re being like this.”

  “Me?”

  “I never lied to you. I always told you how I felt about her. Whatever you built up inside your head is on you.”

  “And whatever acts of treason you commit are on you. Glad we have that settled.” She stepped back and began to shut the door. I stuck my foot between the door and the frame. I stopped and, with one furious push, the door was open.

  A green mass flew at my face and I ducked. I turned to see a hound-sized lizard scrambling towards me, it’s wings retracting flat against its back.

  “Is this a—”

  “Get out, Lance.”

  My heart rammed into my chest as I tried to blink away the illusion in front of me. It couldn't be. With a familiar, unearthly gust of wind, I slid backward out of the chamber.

  “Fine,” Merlin said, “your secret for mine..” Her eyes blazed blue and a swirl of blue light appeared in her hand. “But this does not mean we’re friends or allies. I don’t need to describe the level of hell that will rain down on you if anyone finds out about this.”

  The door slammed shut in my face so hard as my mind raced from one strange phenomenon to the other. Blue eyes. Blue… fire? Dragon? When had Merlin unlocked that ability? How did she come to discover such a beast or get it into the castle unseen? As usual, my meeting with Merlin had led me to more questions than answers, but at least my secret about Gwen was safe for now.

  An hour later, trumpets sounded as the ceremony commenced. I knelt before Arthur, an equal mix of brotherly admiration and the hatred of a rival swirling inside me. He was still more boy than man. His golden locks peeked out from a crown that slid too far down on his head. He looked like a child in a play, but there wasn’t a man or woman in Camelot who would snicker at the expense of their king. The kingdom was dripping with wealth, allies, and trade, and there wasn’t a citizen of Camelot who didn’t benefit in some way. The extraordinary events surrounding the sword, Excalibur, might have been looked at as a silly contest for the throne but was now viewed as divine purpose. And Arthur was the god of this new religion. Each time the story of how he pulled the stone was told, it was stretched into an even holier version. Arthur stood tall, confident that he’d won the hearts of everyone in his kingdom.

  But why had he chosen to marry Gwen of all people? Was she just the forbidden fruit? Was it a show of power? A test of allegiance? Arthur never did anything without a purpose. I needed to know, but neither a soldier nor a knight could question a king. He looked down at me and, for the first time since I embarked on my quest, I saw the loving brother I’d once known. There was something he wasn’t telling me, a reason for marrying Gwen I hadn’t guessed at. Something Gwen also failed to mention. And while a knight couldn’t ask a king for his motives, certainly a brother could ask a brother.

  Arthur raised Excalibur, the golden-hilted broadsword, drawing in the sun’s light through the stained-glass windows only to reflect it into the eyes of all in attendance. His arm shook as if it would give in from the weight, but Arthur didn’t lower it. He spoke, “By the power vested in me, by the divine through the mighty sword Excalibur, and by all the witnesses here, I dub thee Sir Lancelot.”

  He sheathed Excalibur as the crowd’s cheers thundered through the throne room.

  37

  Minseo

  We moved along the winding roads of Vires, through the mountain ranges that ran through the land. Morgana had been restless ever since we’d gotten off the ship and back into the carriage that waited for us on the other side of the sea. I could tell she’d never traveled so far and longed to stretch her legs. Luckily for me, she was better company than Young or Junho and had a nearly endless supply of games to entertain and distract us along the way.

  Even I was surprised when the carriage halted outside the Viran palace. It was dark, but I wasn’t sure how late it actually was. I saw the glow of the red lanterns outside the throne rooms flicker. My father was still awake.

  We stepped outside the carriage, and Morgana gasped at the sight of the castle. She may have seen a castle or two before, but I was certain she’d never seen anything like this. I’d forgotten how lovely it was, until I watched her dance with delight, bowing to each structure as if each was a prince beckoning her out to the dance floor. She sang a song with no learnable melody and threw her hands into the air. Her world seemed much more beautiful than mine. But I couldn’t stay here and play like I wanted to. I had to fix my world and rescue Vires from a senile old fool.

  I turned to Junho. “Stay here.”

  “You're not g
oing to do anything reckless, are you?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, but I knew it was a lie. I didn’t know if he believed me, but I was visibly shaking and I hoped he wouldn’t notice. I knelt to Morgana. “Morgana, see that green tree over there?” She nodded. “Once a year, that tree turns pink. Why don’t you go check it out with Gabriel and Junho while I go say hi to my father.”

  Vires was just a puppet of Camelot now. Sold to the highest bidder by my father. He was a fraud. My mind raced through all he’d taught my brothers and me. Honor, duty, respect. Tradition, family, history. What had it all meant to end like this? A few months ago, it wouldn’t have mattered. It felt like I had nothing worth protecting, but now I did. I had Morgana. I’d wanted more than anything to raise her in Vires where I knew she’d be safe. But now the world belonged to Arthur, including Charlotte—the only thing that made any of this worthless throne madness worth it—and my father was to blame.

  Charlotte, I’m so sorry I left you.

  I pushed open the double doors of the throne room, my father seated calmly on the throne. Sumin was seated to his left, dark circles around his sunken eyes. How did Sumin get this sick? Other than him not conceiving a child, what were the signs? Was this illness the cause of my father’s decision? I shook away the thought and turned my attention to the king. No. He’d sold his entire kingdom. There was no excuse.

  My heart beat, Charlotte, I will find you.

  “You bastard!” I yelled, drawing my sword. I charged forward. The guards reached for their weapons.

  Charlotte, we’ll be together.

  I gritted my teeth. “You sold Vires to that snake?” I gasped, tears flowing down my cheeks.

  Charlotte, we’ll be a family.

  “It’s your fault he took her,” I cried.

  His face was as emotionless and frozen as a stone sculpture. He sat poised like he’d been waiting for me.