King Arthur and Her Knights: Enthroned #1, Enchanted #2, Embittered #3

by K. M. Shea

  “They would be decorated in your emblem, your symbol, of course. But we still have yet to decide what your symbol should be,” Merlin continued.

  Britt rubbed her wrists before stepping out of the chest piece Merlin pulled off her. “I’m sorry, I should have told you about the armor. But I wanted to confront Morgause on my own.”

  “I understand your personality well enough to know why you did it,” Merlin dryly said as he heaped the armor in the corner. “And while I wish you had told me, I must admit you did well.”

  Britt’s eyebrows rose. “Are you giving me a sincere compliment?”

  “I’ve done it before from time to time.”

  “Yes, but it still is rare.”

  “If you want compliments more often you should try behaving yourself,” Merlin said, dusting off his robe.

  Britt laughed and bent over to pet Cavall. When she looked up Merlin was giving her the oddest look.

  “What?” Britt asked, standing up.

  Merlin was quiet for a moment before he approached Britt and placed both of his hands on her shoulders. “Be careful with this hunting party. Don’t take any chances. As badly as I would love to beard Lot and silence him forever you are more important. Do you understand?”

  Britt uncomfortably shifted. Merlin’s hands on her shoulders felt hot. “Yes.”

  A smile melted the hardness of Merlin’s intensity. “That’s a good lass. Enjoy your walk, mind your brother and take your guards with you,” Merlin said, briefly brushing her cheek with his hand before he bustled out of Britt’s bedroom, making a beeline to the study Sir Ector, Sir Ulfius, and Sir Kay were closeted in.

  Britt waited until Merlin’s footsteps disappeared from the hallway before she shook her head and briskly slapped her cheeks. “I am too old to be acting like a lovesick teenager. He shows zero interest in me anyway. And I don’t know why I’m explaining myself to a dog,” Britt grumbled, avoiding looking at her metal plate mirror so she wouldn’t have to see her blush.

  Cavall’s tail happily wagged as Britt scowled at the ground. Her self-disgust was interrupted by a tapping noise on her door.

  “My Lord?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Bedivere, My Lord. May I come in?”

  Britt did a quick inspection of her room—nothing particularly feminine or revealing was out on display—before she answered. “Enter.”

  The door opened and Sir Bedivere slipped inside, throwing himself into a kneeling position before even looking at Britt.

  “Bedivere?”

  “My Lord, I beg of you to forgive me.”

  “For what?”

  “I have been capricious and disloyal to you. I took a vow as your marshal to serve and protect you, and I have failed pitifully.”

  “Bedivere—,”

  “I followed the Orkney queen like a mindless animal, acted inexcusably, and cast your favor aside.”

  “Bedivere—,”

  “I do not deserve your mercy or forgiveness, and I am prepared for whatever punishment you give me.”

  “Bedivere,” Britt said. She crouched in front of the kneeling knight, placed her hands on his shoulders, and shook him.

  The startled knight met her gaze and Britt sadly smiled. “I am sorry, I took too long to rescue you,” she said.

  Sir Bedivere blinked several times before he closed his eyes. “You are too good for us, My King. Certainly we do not deserve you.”

  Britt chuckled. “That’s hardly true. Mostly I think it is I who do not deserve you,” she said before standing, tugging on Sir Bedivere’s arm. “I am glad you are back, Bedivere.”

  “As am I, My Lord,” he said as he stood.

  “Was it bad?”

  “Yes,” Bedivere frowned, his face growing stormy. “Most of the time I was muddled and did not know what I was saying. But the few times I would remember, and wouldn’t be able to control my own mouth? Those were the worst,” he glumly said.

  “It’s over now. You are once again my faithful marshal,” Britt smiled.

  “And you are always my beloved sovereign, My Lord,” Sir Bedivere said, placing a fist over his heart before tilting forward in a bow.

  Britt could not help the rush of warmth and affection she felt at Sir Bedivere’s heartfelt words. She reached out and embraced him, doing her best to heartily smack him on the back to make the gesture a ‘man hug’. It wasn’t until Sir Bedivere embraced her back that Britt remembered her situation (supposedly a male) and her state of clothing (armor-less) and started calling herself seven different kinds of an idiot in her head.

  Thankfully she was still wearing her fitted under doublet—which was making her sweaty—but even so Britt had a feeling Merlin would scalp her if he knew she was going around, hugging knights.

  Britt ended the ‘man hug’ as swiftly as possible, smiling at Sir Bedivere before slapping him on the back again to reaffirm her manliness. “I was about to step outside for a breath of fresh air with Cavall, care to join me?”

  “It would be my honor, My Lord.”

  The Orkney queen left the following day in a swift, unceremonious exit at dawn.

  While Britt had forgiven the queen for her enchantment, few—if any—of Britt’s knights had. As such only Britt, her guards, Cavall, Merlin, Sir Kay—who probably came only to make sure that Morgause really left—and Morgause’s sons went to see her off.

  “I apologize, My Lady, that your departure is less… glorious than one would usually throw for a departing queen,” Britt said.

  Morgause laughed. “Don’t be cross with your men, Arthur. I took the power of their will from them. They are bound to hold a grudge. Stay safe and take care,” she bid before reaching out to hug Britt, making Merlin squawk. “Make us women proud. I am sending my youngest sister to you, Morgan. She feels as Elaine and I do pertaining to women on thrones, and she will do everything in her power to help you.”

  “Thank you,” Britt reluctantly said before she realized that for the first time she was in close quarters with Morgause and her nose wasn’t burning. “Your perfume was part of the enchantment, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” Morgause admitted. “And I am fairly sick of its wretchedly powerful scent. It is a fae charm. Any man who smells it is supposed to fall hopelessly in love with the wearer. I had to wear at least twice the usual amount to get a concoction strong enough.”

  Merlin snorted. “Childish tricks, something one would expect of a woman.”

  Morgause eyed Merlin with the friendliness of a viper. “So says a petty, ancient magician who couldn’t break the childish trick.”

  “I could have if I wanted to. Arthur, I told you it was more meaningful that you broke the enchantment yourself,” Merlin said, almost whining.

  Britt purposely turned away from Morgause as the queen went to say goodbye to her sons. “I think Morgause might be right. I’ve seen you perform some magic, which I’ll give you is pretty cool. But all of this big stuff you claim your capable of? I haven’t seen the slightest proof.”

  “You are the most ungrateful brat to ever be crowned king,” Merlin said as Britt crouched in front of Cavall to pet him.

  Sir Kay stirred. “Historically speaking I don’t believe that is an accurate statement.”

  Merlin eyed Sir Kay. “Of course you would say that.”

  “Can you do anything tomorrow, during the hunting party?” Britt asked, her voice quiet, so quiet only Merlin and Sir Kay could hear her.

  “Aye,” Merlin said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “I’ll be following you, but in secret and out of sight. A hunt isn’t a place for an enchanter, but I will go for your safety.”

  “Why wouldn’t you normally come with?” Britt asked, making the gesture for Cavall to give her his paw. It was the most useless trick ever, but it greatly cheered Britt to be able to teach her faithful dog something.

  Merlin shook his head. “Most love the thrill of the chase but I, I can’t stomach the kill. Not of stags anyway, I suppose boar hunting
in the winter months might be different. But it was Blaise, my mentor, who first advised me to skip hunting parties. Hunting to live is one thing. Hunting for socialization is far different.”

  Britt uneasily stood. “Great, I wasn’t looking forward to it already.”

  “Do not worry, My Lord,” Sir Kay assured Britt. “Merlin is an oddity.”

  “What did you just call me?” Merlin asked.

  “My Lord,” Morgause interrupted with her husky voice. “I thank you for your hospitality. You have been a generous host, and I hope you and your house are blessed for it,” Morgan said as she stood with her mare, her Orkney escort was already mounted and waiting.

  Britt bowed slightly. “You have honored us with your visit.”

  “Don’t come again,” Merlin said, waving farewell.

  “Merlin,” Britt hissed.

  Morgause laughed as she mounted her horse with some help from a footman. “I see through your protests, Merlin. You are quite amorous of me, I know it.”

  Merlin looked like he swallowed a frog. “Lady,” he said. “Wise, old lady. Please depart lest I be forced to help you depart.”

  Morgause turned her delicate mare and laughed over her shoulder. “Very well, I admit saying you are amorous of me is a bit much, but you have become softer towards my gender in your old age, Merlin. I know it! It can be seen in all aspects of your life. Farewell you false magician, farewell my sons, farewell Arthur—true King of Britain.”

  Merlin growled, but the queen was out of hearing distance, disappearing through the gate that led out of the keep area and into the public/commoner area of Camelot.

  “I like her,” Britt decided.

  “Great. Exchange letters with her, but never invite her back,” Merlin said.

  “That would be very rude, Merlin,” Sir Kay said, startling both Britt and Merlin. “We are hosting her sons, how could we separate their mother from them?”

  Merlin eyed Sir Kay again. “I think I liked you more when you had less of a cause and talked rarely.”

  Sir Kay inclined his head. “In that case I must thank you for delivering my foster-brother to me,” he said as Morgause’s sons drew closer to Britt and her companions.

  Britt crouched down. “Gaheris, Gareth,” she called, extending her arms. The young boys ran to her, pushing their week cheeks against her shoulders.

  Sir Kay and Merlin shifted uncomfortably as Britt hugged the crying boys. After a few moments they backed off, noses sniffling. Britt stood and moved away from Cavall, who was promptly tackled by the youngest Orkney princes.

  “I didn’t think the old hag was at all affectionate with them,” Merlin said as he watched Gawain sling an arm across Agravain’s shoulders. “It appears I was wrong.”

  “It’s a hard thing, saying goodbye to a parent,” Britt said, unseeingly staring out across the keep yard. She startled when Merlin placed a hand on the top of her head.

  “I’m sorry, lass,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  Chapter 7

  A Hunting Party

  “We found a second trail going north west. An assistant huntsman picked it up here.”

  Britt chewed her bread as she appeared to listen to the master huntsman. Britt and the knights and nobles who were riding in the hunt had gathered for breakfast outside for the specific purpose of hearing the master huntsman discuss the various trails his assistants had found and deciding which quarry they should pursue. Merlin had informed her this meeting was called an assembly.

  Merlin had also told her that hunting parties used highly technical terminology and she was to stay silent at all times and let her closest knights—Sir Kay, Sir Ector, Sir Ulfius, and Sir Bedivere—answer for her.

  “It is better for people to think you to be thoughtful than for you to open your mouth and prove yourself a fool,” Merlin told her when hauling her from her rooms early that morning to hear mass.

  Britt fixed an appropriately thoughtful expression on her face, nodding slowly whenever someone looked at her.

  Mostly Britt was internally awed at her men’s ability to drink soup for breakfast. The practice was apparently common, but the only thing Britt could stomach was the hearty bread she was supposed to dip in the soup.

  Britt’s gaze flickered to the carefully selected party of six soldiers that were to guard her. “Servants” scurried through the keep yard, carrying things from the keep to the horses that were tacked and waiting. No one noticed they carried swords and extra daggers, or that they oddly carried themselves like soldiers in spite of their station.

  The kennel boys were organizing their dogs: chase-hounds, a few greyhounds, and some mastiffs. Cavall sat with a kennel boy, although his attention was mostly on Britt. Britt smiled and waved at her dog—Kay had been oddly insistent that one of the kennel boys take Cavall with the second group of chase-hounds and the pack of mastiffs that would be planted halfway through the trail to provide fresh dogs for the hunt. Britt doubted the Cavall would be able to keep up, but Kay said there would be plenty of huntsmen along to take charge of him if he tired.

  Britt shifted in her chair and studied the assembly. Gawain and Agravain had been invited to come along. They were enthralled, clinging to the master huntsman’s words. Gareth and Gaheris were too young to come with, but Ywain, Griflet, and a number of other knights were present.

  Merlin had limited the number of knights, telling everyone it was unreasonable to have a huge party when one was hunting. Britt’s knights were satisfied only because Merlin promised the hunting excursions would be implemented on a weekly basis. Eventually.

  “My Lord,” Sir Ulfius jarred Britt from her observations. “I believe we should pursue the large stag that is traveling north east. What do you think?”

  Britt glanced at Sir Kay, who was nodding in support. “I agree,” Britt said as other members of the party murmured in agreement.

  “Very well, Milord,” the master huntsman said. “In that case we should set the dog relays along this path…”

  Britt carefully shifted in the saddle, making her horse’s white ears flick. “Kay, you’re sure I can’t ride Roen?” Britt uncomfortably asked.

  “Roen is trained for war, My Lord. Llamrei is trained for… preservation,” Kay explained, his eyes ceaselessly sweeping through the party. Behind him Britt’s guards did the same thing. “Besides, no knight rides his warhorse on a hunt.”

  “I would feel more assured if I had Roen, or my riding helm,” Britt said.

  She, Kay, and her guards stood apart from the rest of the hunting party. They were waiting in the fields surrounding Camelot for the last of the hound relay to settle in along the path before they started pursuing the stag through the woods. They were starting south of Camelot and would swing up around it in an arc, traveling north west.

  “It’s not yet finished, My Lord,” Sir Kay said.

  “I know,” Britt sighed. “Is Merlin in place?”

  Sir Kay adjusted his bow. “I informed him of our path before we mounted up. He was dressed most…uniquely. I would assume he is in a location that satisfies him. I believe the hunt is about to begin.”

  A huntsman blew a horn, and the hounds bayed as they were released and snuffled their way down the scent path.

  “Be careful, My Lord,” Sir Kay said as he cued his mount into a trot.

  “I will,” Britt said, swallowing the lump in her throat. She hated to admit it, but she was afraid.

  Llamrei, the white mare Britt rode, seemed to pick up on her unease as she trotted after the rest of the hunting party. The mare was impressively large, but her gaits were deceptively smooth. She did not prance like the other horses, and she was almost as watchful as Sir Kay.

  Britt held her breath when the hunting party entered the woods. She rode on the edge of the party, with her knights but on the outskirts of the group.

  When Sir Kay explained the situation to the guards they asked Britt if she would ride on there. “It would be best to guard you when we are not completely
surrounded. It makes it easier to recognize friend from foe,” one guard said.

  Britt was glad she had agreed. The hunting party seemed like a mad scramble. “It would be easy to get trampled if you fell off your horse,” Britt muttered as she ducked a tree branch.

  The bay of the hounds was a howling chorus and the stamp of horse hooves was a drum beat as they followed the scent path and tracks of the stag. The huntsmen were grim men popping in and out of view in their green clothes compared with Britt’s merry and lighthearted knights.

  Britt had a hard time keeping a smile on her face as every shout of joy and dog’s howl seemed like a beacon to her would be assassins. Merlin had told her time and time again the previous day that she had to act normal. She couldn’t appear to be nervous.

  That order seemed especially hard as the biggest thing Britt wanted to do at the moment was throw up what little bread she managed to eat, turn on her heels, and run back to Camelot.

  Facing down an enemy on the battlefield was one thing. There she stood a chance with her sword skills. Riding through a forest where she was utterly defenseless against a sniper assassin? That was enough to set Britt’s sense of fear on fire.

  Britt forced herself to sit deeper in the saddle as she straightened her spine and flashed a smile at Gawain and Ywain as they rode past. “I won’t let Lot win,” she decided.

  The first hour of the hunt passed. They stopped to water horses and gather new dogs.

  “How are you fairing, My Lord?” Sir Kay asked.

  “As well as could be expected,” Britt said, patting Llamrei’s neck.

  Sir Kay ducked closer for the merest moment. “You hide your fear well, My Lord,” he said before mounting up when the horn sounded again.