fingers on the arm of his chair. “Because if I meddle, Arthur’s knights—Britt’s knights—will never trust her again. I will become the person they hinge their hopes on.”
“What of it?” Sir Bodwain said. “Have you not noticed, Merlin? If this does not end soon, our plans are doomed. Camelot will not survive this upheaval, and the knights will trust no one . All of our work will be destroyed, and once again Britain will fracture into thousands of tiny fiefdoms and kingdoms. Rome will sense we are weak, and they will attack,” Sir Bodwain grimly predicted.
“I know that,” Merlin said. “But I won’t act.”
“Merlin,” Sir Bodwain said, shaking his head.
“Those knights belong to Britt Arthurs,” Merlin said. “I will not take them from her. She is fully the King of Britain. If Camelot is to be saved, it will be by her hand.”
“But Merlin, you could do it,” Sir Ector said, his brow puckered with confusion. “You could reclaim it.”
“And Britt will lose them forever,” Merlin said.
“But if you don’t act, we will lose everything,” Sir Bodwain said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Merlin said. “I have faith in Britt. She will return. And when she does, she deserves a chance to rally her men again. Even if it means our plans might fail.”
Sir Bodwain and Sir Ector gaped at each other.
Sir Bodwain spent a few more minutes trying to convince Merlin otherwise, but Merlin stood firm. Finally, Sir Bodwain left—saying he would pass Merlin’s decree on to Sir Ulfius.
Sir Ector shook his head. “I never thought I would see this day.”
“What?” Merlin asked. “The ruin of Camelot?”
“No,” Sir Ector said. “The day you would allow affection to put all your schemes and plans in possible jeopardy.” The older knight smiled wanly. “You’ve changed, Merlin. For the better, I think.”
Sir Ector’s observation chilled Merlin.
It’s true. It is riskier to put my hopes in Britt instead of taking care of this matter myself. So why don’t I? Even with his vast experience, great intelligence, and superior knowledge, Merlin could not answer his own question.
Chapter 8
Redefined
It took Britt two days to ride back to Camelot. When she arrived, the guards at the gatehouse greeted her with relief. “Welcome home, My Lord,” they said with broad smiles.
“Thank you,” Britt smiled, nudging her horse forward. Any of the townsfolk or guards Britt ran across smiled at her, as if the mere sight of her could ease their tension.
“I guess they didn’t tell everyone,” Britt murmured as she rode the path that led to the keep. She passed the inner walls and directed her horse to the stables. She dismounted and led the horse into the barn.
She passed the chestnut off to a groom when she heard someone from the stable yard shout, “Arthur’s here? Arthur!”
Sir Ector—with Sir Kay on his heels—waddled into the stable, a bright smile on his face.
“Dad,” Britt said, her eyes momentarily clouding with emotion before she ran across the stable and hugged her foster-father.
Sir Ector squeezed her tight. It made her shoulder wound protest, but Britt didn’t care. Hugging Sir Ector made her feel like a child again, and like everything would work out.
Sir Ector finally released her and anxiously looked at her shoulder. “How’s your wound?”
“Stiff, but manageable.”
“We should have gutted Lancelot,” Sir Kay muttered.
Britt laughed and threw her arms around a surprised Kay. “You’re a man after my own heart, Kay,” Britt said, happy and amused for the first time since her parting with Lancelot, Ywain, Griflet, and Bedivere.
Sir Kay awkwardly patted her back. “I am glad you are safe, My Lord,” he said.
“I would never dare to return to you in any state besides complete health. Or, mostly healthy I guess,” she said, stepping back to give Sir Kay some space.
“We heard you meant to go to London. What good fortune brought you back to
“What of it?” Sir Bodwain said. “Have you not noticed, Merlin? If this does not end soon, our plans are doomed. Camelot will not survive this upheaval, and the knights will trust no one . All of our work will be destroyed, and once again Britain will fracture into thousands of tiny fiefdoms and kingdoms. Rome will sense we are weak, and they will attack,” Sir Bodwain grimly predicted.
“I know that,” Merlin said. “But I won’t act.”
“Merlin,” Sir Bodwain said, shaking his head.
“Those knights belong to Britt Arthurs,” Merlin said. “I will not take them from her. She is fully the King of Britain. If Camelot is to be saved, it will be by her hand.”
“But Merlin, you could do it,” Sir Ector said, his brow puckered with confusion. “You could reclaim it.”
“And Britt will lose them forever,” Merlin said.
“But if you don’t act, we will lose everything,” Sir Bodwain said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Merlin said. “I have faith in Britt. She will return. And when she does, she deserves a chance to rally her men again. Even if it means our plans might fail.”
Sir Bodwain and Sir Ector gaped at each other.
Sir Bodwain spent a few more minutes trying to convince Merlin otherwise, but Merlin stood firm. Finally, Sir Bodwain left—saying he would pass Merlin’s decree on to Sir Ulfius.
Sir Ector shook his head. “I never thought I would see this day.”
“What?” Merlin asked. “The ruin of Camelot?”
“No,” Sir Ector said. “The day you would allow affection to put all your schemes and plans in possible jeopardy.” The older knight smiled wanly. “You’ve changed, Merlin. For the better, I think.”
Sir Ector’s observation chilled Merlin.
It’s true. It is riskier to put my hopes in Britt instead of taking care of this matter myself. So why don’t I? Even with his vast experience, great intelligence, and superior knowledge, Merlin could not answer his own question.
Chapter 8
Redefined
It took Britt two days to ride back to Camelot. When she arrived, the guards at the gatehouse greeted her with relief. “Welcome home, My Lord,” they said with broad smiles.
“Thank you,” Britt smiled, nudging her horse forward. Any of the townsfolk or guards Britt ran across smiled at her, as if the mere sight of her could ease their tension.
“I guess they didn’t tell everyone,” Britt murmured as she rode the path that led to the keep. She passed the inner walls and directed her horse to the stables. She dismounted and led the horse into the barn.
She passed the chestnut off to a groom when she heard someone from the stable yard shout, “Arthur’s here? Arthur!”
Sir Ector—with Sir Kay on his heels—waddled into the stable, a bright smile on his face.
“Dad,” Britt said, her eyes momentarily clouding with emotion before she ran across the stable and hugged her foster-father.
Sir Ector squeezed her tight. It made her shoulder wound protest, but Britt didn’t care. Hugging Sir Ector made her feel like a child again, and like everything would work out.
Sir Ector finally released her and anxiously looked at her shoulder. “How’s your wound?”
“Stiff, but manageable.”
“We should have gutted Lancelot,” Sir Kay muttered.
Britt laughed and threw her arms around a surprised Kay. “You’re a man after my own heart, Kay,” Britt said, happy and amused for the first time since her parting with Lancelot, Ywain, Griflet, and Bedivere.
Sir Kay awkwardly patted her back. “I am glad you are safe, My Lord,” he said.
“I would never dare to return to you in any state besides complete health. Or, mostly healthy I guess,” she said, stepping back to give Sir Kay some space.
“We heard you meant to go to London. What good fortune brought you back to
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