by KM Shea
Britt studied the broken girl. In the legends, Guinevere ruined Camelot arm-in-arm with Lancelot. All her life Britt hated hearing stories about the faithless queen. As far as Britt was concerned, Guinevere never deserved Arthur, and the legendary King was an idiot for never seeing her fickle ways.
Hours ago she took a vow before her men that she would champion women, and she had. She saved a girl she genuinely disliked. But Britt found she had neither the strength of character nor the smallest drop of mercy that would move her to bring this female disaster into Camelot.
“I saved you from Maleagant, Guinevere. That is the most I will do for you,” Britt said, brushing the shorter woman off her arm.
“I’ll do anything. Take me as your servant. I could be a lady’s maid or work as a seamstress,” Guinevere said, her skirts swirling as she cut in front of Britt and grabbed her by the doublet.
“Guinevere, stop your baseless offers. You are not the type to be pleased with working. You don’t even know how.”
“I could learn—I will learn. I would rather be a servant who earns a wage and makes her own decisions than be auctioned off to Father’s best offer and forced into slavery.”
Britt pinched the bridge of her nose. “Getting married is not like being a slave.”
“You don’t know. You wouldn’t know! Maleagant is not the worst man father is considering for me. He doesn’t care what they are like as long as they are rich and will give him a pretty sum of money for me, or he can call upon them to pull up his breeches when he is in need of saving. I am doomed, Arthur, unless you help me,” Guinevere pleaded.
“I already have. Leave me,” Britt said pointing to the door.
Guinevere’s lower lip trembled. “I see now that I was wrong about you. You might be a woman, but you are just as cruel as a man.”
“I repeat, Guinevere. I have saved you once. Remember that, and be grateful. I don’t even like you, so there is no way I will sacrifice my subjects’ happiness for your own. Your happiness would cost me a kingdom,” Britt said.
“How can you say that? Father will not lift a finger against you.”
“Guinevere,” Britt said, her words quiet but sharp like a dagger. “I know what you are like, and I know what you would do. You will have to find another person to save you.”
Guinevere shook her head. A sob tore from her throat as she threw the door open and tripped into the hallway.
Britt rubbed her forehead. “I can’t wait to leave this place. Between her and Lancelot, I’ll be living not just with insomnia but with a perpetual headache, too.”
“Is not Guinevere beautiful this night, Arthur?” King Leodegrance said, slapping his hand on the table.
“Of course, My Lord,” Britt said, privately thinking anything but.
Apparently, the lady in question had gone out and sobbed until the celebration started, for she was puffy-eyed and red-cheeked. She stared at her plate and did not look up, even though King Leodegrance had made his observation at the sound level of a shout.
“It is such a good thing that you saved her from Maleagant, for I would rather she married for love than fear,” King Leodegrance said.
“If that is the case, I wish her luck in finding love,” Britt said, sipping her wine.
“But hasn’t she already found it in a staunch champion such as you?”
“I cannot speak for the lady, but when I championed Camelgrance, I must confess I did it for the sake of our friendship,” Britt said.
King Leodegrance patted Britt on the back. “You are so discreet. I am honored my daughter caught your eye.”
Britt sighed and looked for her men—they were the only reason she was suffering through this. After the test of courage in putting together the fake army to trick Maleagant, she owed it to them to eat a feast and sleep indoors for the night before they set out in the morning.
Merlin was nowhere to be seen. Lancelot, Gawain, and Ywain were in the center of a crowd of young ladies. King Pellinore and Sir Kay were seated together, deep in conversation. Sir Bedivere and the rest of the knights were eating merrily with abandon.
Britt sighed and took a bite of the roasted boar sitting on her plate. It was dry and tough.
“I do wish I could call you son, Arthur,” King Leodegrance said.
Britt offered the older king a slight smile. “I apologize, but I am already quite happy with the father I have.”
“He is nothing but your foster father. That hardly counts.”
“Sir Ector has been very kind to me. He is more of a father to me than my real father ever was,” Britt truthfully said. Her father had left her family when she was young. It was why she had been wary of Sir Ector in the first few months of her stay in Britain. But now Britt couldn’t imagine Camelot without her jolly foster father.
“Then you have no choice but to marry into my family to become my son,” King Leodegrance triumphantly said.
“I beg your pardon, My Lord, but I must refuse.”
“Just for now, of course.”
Britt stared at her wine cup and wondered how soon she could leave the feasting hall. She was almost knocked to the ground when Merlin shoved a seat between Britt and King Leodegrance, pushing the two of them apart.
“King Leodegrance, I am most eager to ask you about your hay crop. When do you believe you will be able to have the first cut?” Merlin asked, angled so his back was almost entirely facing Britt and acting as a block between the two kings.
“Greetings, Merlin. I cannot say I am entirely certain of the condition of the hay fields. Tomorrow before you leave, would you like to see them?” King Leodegrance asked.
“No, I was merely curious. It was a mild winter, and the peasants at Camelot were hoping for an early first crop of hay. I do not know how likely such a thing is.”
“Indeed, I echo their hopes. My cattle have produced more offspring than estimated—which is a good thing to be sure, but I must have enough hay to feed them all.”
King Leodegrance rambled on, but Britt shut her eyes and filtered it out. Merlin had rescued her. King Leodegrance respected Merlin—probably even more than he respected Britt. He would happily entertain Merlin as long as the wizard appeared interested, leaving Britt alone.
In a rush of exuberance, Britt slipped her arm under the table, sliding her hand into Merlin’s. She squeezed his fingers, and he gently squeezed her hand in return—acknowledging her gesture—before disengaging his hand and propping it up on top of the table.
Britt glanced to Guinevere. The princess still stared at her pewter plate, listlessly pushing food across its surface.
Britt took another bite of her roasted boar. Tomorrow they would leave. After tomorrow, King Leodegrance and Guinevere would no longer be her problem. They would be out of sight and out of Britt’s mind.
Britt vowed it again as she watched Guinevere wanly smile at her mother. The girl may be heartbroken, but Britt had done what she could. Knowing as she did about Lancelot and Guinevere, Britt would be crazy to take the girl back to Camelot.
“I do wish you would stay longer. Can Camelot not spare you?” King Leodegrance wheedled the following morning.
“No, I have been away from home far too long as it is,” Britt said, patting Llamrei when the mare tossed her head. Britt’s knights were in a formation behind her, standing just outside of Camelgrance.
“We thank you for hosting us, although next time perhaps you should be sharper with your enemies, hm?” Merlin said, as close to a chiding as he would ever give a dignitary. (Not including Britt, of course.)
“I’m growing old, Merlin. I would like to see my line secured through grandchildren,” King Leodegrance said, giving Guinevere a significant look. “Although heaven only knows there are but a few men who are worthy of her.”
Guinevere stood next to her mother, her arms tucked behind her back. She hadn’t so much as looked at Britt since Britt shooed her out of her room the previous night. “Oh,” Britt said.
“What?” Me
rlin asked through a clenched smile as King Leodegrance continued to moan over his daughter’s marriage prospects.
“I have to talk to you about something. There was an incident last night,” Britt said.
“An incident? You didn’t kill Lancelot, so it can’t be that bad,” Merlin said.
“No, but it might be worse. I suspect you’re going to chain me to my throne when we return to Camelot.”
“You don’t enjoy peace, do you?”
“My Lord, if I may interrupt? We really ought to leave,” Sir Kay said.
“Right, thank you again, King Leodegrance, for your hospitality. Take care, my friend,” Britt said before wheeling Llamrei around. Merlin did the same with his horse, and the knights of Camelot set out, their mounts moving at a swift walk.
The residents of Camelgrance cheered at their departure. The farmers who had returned to their lands now that the siege was over raised their tools over their heads in bravos.
Britt smiled and waved, ignoring the clenching of her gut as they rode farther and farther away. They had just reached the forest when Britt pulled Llamrei to a halt. “Dang it. Merlin I can’t do it.”
“Can’t do what?” Merlin asked as their companions also stopped.
“I can’t leave Guinevere at Camelgrance.”
“I thought you hated her?”
“I do. She’s a thoughtless, silly brat, but I can’t expect my knights to go about saving maidens when I refuse to do the same,” Britt sighed. “Plus, I want my Round Table.”
“Still? As hideous as it is?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, let us go back and tell her father. Do not agree to marry her, though,” Merlin warned before holding a hand out to King Pellinore.
“Hurrah for King Arthur,” Ywain cheered.
“My treatment of the lady is hardly something to be cheered,” Britt said.
“Quite the contrary, it is remarkable. Most would be glad to see those they scorn in pain,” Gawain said.
“I’ve said it before, but I suspect I shall be saying this for the rest of my life: you think too highly of me. Merlin, what are you doing?” Britt asked as King Pellinore placed a handful of coins on Merlin’s palm.
“Just settling a bit of a bet,” Merlin said, jingling the coins with satisfaction.
King Pellinore smiled widely at Britt. “No one could mistake your disdain for the lady. I thought for certain you would leave her behind. But Merlin knows you better, it would seem. You’re a good man, Arthur. Lead on.”
“All of you, stay here. I don’t want Leodegrance dragging us back to his castle in his joy. We won’t be but a few moments. Come along, Arthur,” Merlin said, already riding back to Camelgrance.
Soldiers were still standing at attention, and the people were still cheering when Britt returned. “Are you staying longer after all?” King Leodegrance eagerly asked.
“No,” Britt said, dismounting her mare. “If you will excuse my bluntness, but I ask that you would—sometime soon—send Guinevere to live at Camelot.”
King Leodegrance’s face lit up, and Britt quickly added, “I do not intend to marry her. Indeed, I will not marry…until I see all of Britain united,” Britt said. She paused to smile at Merlin, proud of her quick-thinking.
Merlin nodded in concession and motioned for her to continue.
“Yes, so I will not marry for many years, if at all. But I have several nephews—princes, all of them—who will one day wish to marry. I desire to expose them to women of high birth and noble blood so they may choose carefully,” Britt said.
King Leodegrance was thoughtful. “Princes, you say?”
“Yes. Sir Ywain—the heir of King Urien—and Gawain and his brothers—the sons of King Lot,” Britt said.
“Lancelot du Lac and his cousins, Lionel and Bors, are also staying at Camelot, and they are the sons of King Ban and King Bors,” Merlin added, ignoring the glare Britt shot at him.
“Really?” King Leodegrance asked, rubbing his hands with greed. “And aren’t King Ban and King Bors rulers across the sea?”
“They are,” Britt reluctantly said.
King Leodegrance nodded several times before he smiled. “Guinevere would be delighted to join your courts, My Lord. I will send her with an escort of men as soon as she is prepared”
“And the Round Table?” Britt asked.
“Will come with her as a token of our alliance,” King Leodegrance said.
Everyone, most of all Britt, was shocked when Guinevere released a shriek of joy. “Thank you, Arthur. Thank you,” she said, throwing herself at Britt.
The fiery-haired girl wept into Britt’s doublet, alarming Merlin but affirming to Britt that she had made the right choice.
Every girl deserved to be saved, not just the ones Britt thought to be worthy.
“There, there,” Britt said, patting Guinevere’s head. “I would be honored to act as your guardian during your stay at Camelot.”
“Should you change your mind and wish to marry her yourself, Arthur…” King Leodegrance started.
“Not until Britain is united,” Britt firmly said.
“Yes, I see. Very well, then. Safe travels. Come, Guinevere. Stop crying, and let go of His Majesty,” Leodegrance ordered.
Guinevere stepped back but smiled and wildly waved through her tears as Britt remounted Llamrei and once again headed for the woods.
“Arthur,” Merlin tightly said.
“Hm?”
“You need to be more careful about whom you allow to be so close to you as to touch you,” Merlin said, his voice sharp and delicate like thin ice.
“It doesn’t matter. Guinevere knows.”
“SHE WHAT?”
Britt yawned in the afternoon sun. She tilted her back, nestling farther into the large haystack behind which she was hiding. She had returned to Camelot a week before. Merlin had just finally forgiven her for revealing her gender to Guinevere, releasing her from her kingly duties for the first time since her homecoming.
Britt heard her guards shift around her. Cavall, who was splayed out next to her, bumped her legs as he stood. “What is it?” she called.
“Merlin approaches, Milord,” the captain of her guard said.
Britt grimaced and opened her eyes. “Can’t you detain him?”
“We’ve seen too much of the magic he can do for me to attempt that, Milord.”
“Very well,” Britt grumbled. “Merlin, what brings you outside of Camelot’s walls?” she asked when the wizard drew near.
Merlin squinted up at the sunlight. “Lancelot is looking for you,” he said, patting Cavall on the head.
“I know.”
“He intends to pledge his loyalty to you.”
“Why do you think I’m hiding out in the farmland?” Britt asked.
Merlin chuckled and plopped down next to Britt, also leaning into the hay. “Scat,” he said to Britt’s guards.
The soldiers saluted him before walking out of hearing distance—although they still stood at attention with their weapons bared.
“It might not be as bad as you think.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
Merlin picked up a piece of straw and prodded Cavall with it when the massive dog settled back down on the ground. “Maybe…but both Ywain and Griflet have shaved.”
“What?”
“‘Tis true. They no longer sport those hideous, scraggily patches of facial hair they tried to pass off as beards,” Merlin reported.
“But why?”
“It seems the ladies of Camelot coo over Lancelot, and it has spawned some jealousy.”
“Merlin, no!” Britt said.
“It is out of my control.”
“But it can’t be!”
“Too late. It seems your fashion icon has arrived.”
She groaned. “No, not Lancelot. Anyone but him.”
Merlin laughed in deviant delight. “You must admit, he will make clean-shaven faces all the rage.”
&nbs
p; “The price is too high,” Britt grumbled, nestling farther into the hay bale.
Merlin was silent for several moments before saying, “I’ve received word from Leodegrance. In two weeks time, Guinevere will set out for Camelot.”
“Oh, goodie,” Britt said wryly. “Sir Ulfius will arrange a room for her?” Britt asked.
“Yes. You do realize that in spite of your claim that you will not marry until Britain is united, everyone—from your allies to your knights—thinks you mean to marry her?”
“If they do, that is their problem,” Britt said.
“You don’t mind?”
“Not if it keeps the other ladies of my court from batting their eyes at me,” Britt said. “It’s not like Guinevere is going to have false expectations.”
“No thanks to you,” Merlin grunted.
“It will still work out,” Britt said.
“Only if she is able to keep her mouth shut. Most ladies are dreadful gossips, you know. They twitter like birds in springtime at all hours of the day. Women are pests.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, come now, you hardly count.”
“What?” Britt said, sitting upright.
“Not that I see you as a man—you are too clean for that, especially since you insist on smelling like flowers,” Merlin said in disgust.
“Then how exactly do you see me?” Britt demanded.
“Genderless?” Merlin tried.
Britt’s elbow to his gut told him he guessed wrong.
“See, you do things like that and wonder why I don’t see you as being quite female,” Merlin wheezed.
Britt folded her arms across her chest and shut her eyes as she leaned back into the hay, ignoring the wizard.
“Arthur.”
Britt did not stir.
“Arthur.”
“…”
“Britt?”
Britt turned her head to the side and swatted a bug away from her face. Her eyes flew open when Merlin grasped her chin.
“I will admit defeat. Were you clothed like a lass and kitted up, you would be the most beautiful woman in England,” Merlin said, his eyes held Britt’s like hypnotic magnets. There was something in his expression that Britt hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t love—Britt shuddered to picture what love would look like on the young wizard—but there was honesty and truthfulness mixed with some kind of affection in his eyes.
