that?
I have to go back , Britt grimly realized. I have to apologize, and I have to remind them their oaths are worthwhile. They might not have me as their king again, but I can’t let them throw away everything we’ve fought for .
“Thank you for your wise words, Arth,” Britt said as she threw a blanket on her horse’s back. “You have helped me more than you know. Please give my apologies to Edla, but I won’t be…um…breaking my fast with you,” Britt said, placing the saddle on her gelding.
Arth watched Britt with a soft, pleased smile. “Aye, My Lord. I’ll see if I can get you a few food items to take with on your return to Camelot.”
“Thank you,” Britt called over her shoulder as she slipped the girth around her horse’s belly and tightened it—hearing but not necessarily taking in the shepherd’s words.
When Britt finished readying her mount the sun was over the horizon, casting streaks of warm, golden light into the sky.
“Thank you for…everything,” Britt said, unable to put into words what the young couple had done.
“It was our pleasure, Sir Galahad. Thank you for saving Caerl, Isel, and our sheep,” Edla said, leaning against Arth’s chest with a smile.
“I wish you well, Sir Galahad. May the knights of Camelot hear you out,” Arth said.
Britt swung up into the saddle. “Thanks, I think they will. I hope they will. Even if they won’t, I have to try.”
“Godspeed,” Edla said, waving to Britt.
“Thank you,” Britt said before she nudged her horse into a trot, heading back to the Forest of Arroy.
Edla and Arth watched her go, until Edla yelped. “The soup!” and scurried back inside their cottage.
Arth stayed outside, watching the woman-King ride off. Sir Ector was right—she was beautiful with a spirit that was just as pure. Arth—Arthur—had toyed with the idea of telling her who he was, but he was glad he hadn’t. A person like her would think it to be her responsibility to give up the throne for him, and he was happy with Edla, the village, and his sheep. “God bless, King Arthur. No matter your gender, you’re the rightful King of Britain.”
“ YOU WHAT? ” Sir Kay thundered. His voice was raised in one of his very rare shouts—Merlin had known him for ages and could count on one hand how many times the taciturn knight had yelled.
“She’s not who she said she is,” Sir Ywain said, his eyes red and his hair greasy. Finding out who Britt really was had taken an obvious toll on the knight.
“That doesn’t matter,” Sir Kay hissed. “What does matter is that our king was wounded—by one of her own knights—and you set her off without seeing to her injury? You FOOL !”
“She’s nothing but a liar,” Sir Ywain spat.
“She is your KING whom you owe your life to—and you abandoned her in a time of need,” Sir Kay snarled. “You’re not a knight. You’re nothing but a child playing pretend.”
“You—! I will challenge you if you do not take back your words,” Sir Ywain said.
“Please, do challenge me. I will break your bones on the jousting field,” Sir Kay said, looming over the younger knight.
Griflet rubbed his eyes. “Will this nightmare never end? Can’t we put this behind us?” he asked.
Merlin barely heard the argument. His mind was spinning. This was worse than he imagined. Most of the order of the Round Table knew the truth about Britt—or at least about her gender. He thought this would happen eventually, but he didn’t think she would get ousted this soon. What should his first move be? Which part of his network should he notify first? How was Britt managing with her injury?
“Excuse me, Merlin,” Sir Gawain said, his voice barely audible over Sir Kay’s roars and Sir Ywain’s shouts.
“What?” Merlin said, his voice tight with tension.
“If I might speak to you for a moment?”
“Time is rather precious right now, Prince Gawain. What is it?”
“It’s about King Arthur. My aunt Morgan saw
I have to go back , Britt grimly realized. I have to apologize, and I have to remind them their oaths are worthwhile. They might not have me as their king again, but I can’t let them throw away everything we’ve fought for .
“Thank you for your wise words, Arth,” Britt said as she threw a blanket on her horse’s back. “You have helped me more than you know. Please give my apologies to Edla, but I won’t be…um…breaking my fast with you,” Britt said, placing the saddle on her gelding.
Arth watched Britt with a soft, pleased smile. “Aye, My Lord. I’ll see if I can get you a few food items to take with on your return to Camelot.”
“Thank you,” Britt called over her shoulder as she slipped the girth around her horse’s belly and tightened it—hearing but not necessarily taking in the shepherd’s words.
When Britt finished readying her mount the sun was over the horizon, casting streaks of warm, golden light into the sky.
“Thank you for…everything,” Britt said, unable to put into words what the young couple had done.
“It was our pleasure, Sir Galahad. Thank you for saving Caerl, Isel, and our sheep,” Edla said, leaning against Arth’s chest with a smile.
“I wish you well, Sir Galahad. May the knights of Camelot hear you out,” Arth said.
Britt swung up into the saddle. “Thanks, I think they will. I hope they will. Even if they won’t, I have to try.”
“Godspeed,” Edla said, waving to Britt.
“Thank you,” Britt said before she nudged her horse into a trot, heading back to the Forest of Arroy.
Edla and Arth watched her go, until Edla yelped. “The soup!” and scurried back inside their cottage.
Arth stayed outside, watching the woman-King ride off. Sir Ector was right—she was beautiful with a spirit that was just as pure. Arth—Arthur—had toyed with the idea of telling her who he was, but he was glad he hadn’t. A person like her would think it to be her responsibility to give up the throne for him, and he was happy with Edla, the village, and his sheep. “God bless, King Arthur. No matter your gender, you’re the rightful King of Britain.”
“ YOU WHAT? ” Sir Kay thundered. His voice was raised in one of his very rare shouts—Merlin had known him for ages and could count on one hand how many times the taciturn knight had yelled.
“She’s not who she said she is,” Sir Ywain said, his eyes red and his hair greasy. Finding out who Britt really was had taken an obvious toll on the knight.
“That doesn’t matter,” Sir Kay hissed. “What does matter is that our king was wounded—by one of her own knights—and you set her off without seeing to her injury? You FOOL !”
“She’s nothing but a liar,” Sir Ywain spat.
“She is your KING whom you owe your life to—and you abandoned her in a time of need,” Sir Kay snarled. “You’re not a knight. You’re nothing but a child playing pretend.”
“You—! I will challenge you if you do not take back your words,” Sir Ywain said.
“Please, do challenge me. I will break your bones on the jousting field,” Sir Kay said, looming over the younger knight.
Griflet rubbed his eyes. “Will this nightmare never end? Can’t we put this behind us?” he asked.
Merlin barely heard the argument. His mind was spinning. This was worse than he imagined. Most of the order of the Round Table knew the truth about Britt—or at least about her gender. He thought this would happen eventually, but he didn’t think she would get ousted this soon. What should his first move be? Which part of his network should he notify first? How was Britt managing with her injury?
“Excuse me, Merlin,” Sir Gawain said, his voice barely audible over Sir Kay’s roars and Sir Ywain’s shouts.
“What?” Merlin said, his voice tight with tension.
“If I might speak to you for a moment?”
“Time is rather precious right now, Prince Gawain. What is it?”
“It’s about King Arthur. My aunt Morgan saw
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