Albion's Legacy (Sons Of Camelot Book 3)

by Sarah Luddington

  “It’s worse than that,” Severus said, his fingers were tight on my clothing, ensuring I didn’t escape.

  I glanced at Lance, my right hand in my Court. “The Lady has an army camped outside The City and Camelot,” he said. His words were a shock.

  Galahad rallied first. “I am now King of Albion,” he said, drawing himself up to his full height. “We can pull together and destroy whatever she throws at us.”

  We all looked at our young King. With his shorn hair, the bald patches, hunger biting his bones and obvious exhaustion he wasn’t a figure to inspire confidence.

  “How is Camelot?” I asked Lance. The thought of an army at her walls left me with a confusion of emotions. I felt as if a mighty warrior held a knife to the throat of a family member.

  “We need to talk.” Lance and Severus shared a look. They had news to impart I wasn’t going to like.

  “What happened? What would The Lady gain from laying siege?” I asked, amazed at her bold move. To lay siege to The City was to commit utterly to conflict. With both cities sat in the centre of the large valley floor it would not be easy to hold her lines. A siege could and would take years to work and Camelot had never been taken, our keep was impenetrable. “Is Camelot alright?”

  “She needs her King,” Lance said quietly.

  “That’s hardly fair,” Nim told him walking toward us. “If it wasn’t for Holt we wouldn’t have Galahad or a King of Albion.”

  Lance didn’t say a word in argument. He didn’t think Galahad was worth whatever had happened to Camelot.

  “I need to clean up, I need to eat and I need a full report,” Galahad said, striding forward. “Why is there no guard on this portal?”

  “We need the men to protect the walls and bring those who are vulnerable into The City from the outlying districts,” Morgan said.

  “I know when the portal is being used, Sire. If I feel a change I can inform the guard quickly enough to prevent a full invasion,” Quilliam said.

  Galahad nodded. “Alright, but I want guards down here as well. I trust you, Quilliam, don’t think for a moment I doubt your abilities but if The Lady invades through the portal I won’t want to be fighting a rear guard action from the start. Morgan, with me, tell me all you know. Holt, Severus, I need you with me as well. I’m afraid Camelot will have to wait.”

  “She can’t,” Lance said. Galahad turned and I saw the light of a true leader in his eyes. Lance dropped his gaze. “She really cannot wait, Sire.” He spoke calmly and gave Galahad the title he’d earned. I didn’t earn mine, it was given to me the moment I left my mother’s womb.

  “I’m sorry, Lord Fitzwilliam, but Camelot is not –”

  “No but she is my problem,” I interrupted.

  “Defeating The Lady is the most important thing. This siege is just to keep us distracted. She isn’t interested in the throne, she wants more, much more,” Galahad said.

  “I know but –”

  “Lord Pendragon, I need you with me,” Galahad said. I looked into his eyes and I reached for our bonding. On the outside Galahad was the King we needed but I felt his fear and uncertainty like a dark stain.

  I nodded and turned to Lance. “Camelot is safe?”

  He looked at Galahad and I sensed his frustration. “She is, Sire.” The game playing with my titles wasn’t lost on me. To Albion I was a client city state, to my people I’d inherited the power and influence my father enjoyed in England.

  “Then, she can live without her King for a little longer,” I said, trying to be kind.

  Lance bowed his head and backed off. I understood his frustration and to be honest I was more worried than I appeared. I might want to abdicate from the throne but that didn’t prevent me from wanting to protect every man, woman and child in the city of my fathers.

  In no short order stable hands had appeared to guide the horses away and more Brownies to see to our kit, or lack of it. Severus walked just behind me as I fell in beside Galahad and we strode through the long corridors of the palace. I wondered what Lance and Nim needed to tell me about Camelot but Galahad was right, we must stop The Lady or Camelot wouldn’t matter.

  We reached the rooms Lancelot and Morgana had shared while my father had occupied the suite next door to his Wolf. Quilliam appeared and bowed, the door swinging open. “The rooms have been prepared, Sire. Of course we don’t know you as we know Lord Pendragon but I think we’ve made a good start.”

  Galahad paused. The bonding flared hot and I coughed to cover a gasp of pain. I stepped in front of Galahad, masking him from the Brownie who knew more about how to run The City and Albion than most of the royal family.

  “Thank you, Quilliam. We might be staying in my rooms for the moment. Galahad has been forced to endure enough nights alone with too much weight on his shoulders,” I said and tried to raise a smile.

  “Master Severus has made it very clear, my Lord, that his Majesty might have some complications for the moment. I think you will find I am more than used to dealing with the consequences of the damage to the du Lac family line,” Quilliam said in a tone that would brook very little argument.

  Galahad placed a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, Quilliam. I’m sure my father’s rooms will be perfect. It’s just a shock, never having known him.”

  Quilliam walked straight up to his King. “Sire, these rooms are for the King and his consort. Until you choose the bride Albion needs, you and the Lord Pendragon can use the rooms. I know the right person has become the King of Albion and you have our full support.”

  “Thank you, Quilliam,” Galahad murmured behind me.

  “I shall have your clothes altered to fit your current ascetic state.”

  “You mean I’m emaciated,” Galahad qualified.

  “Perhaps a barber is also in order. I know your father never cared very much about his appearance but...” Quilliam appeared lost for words the more he took in Galahad’s state. The scars around his neck from the torc. Many small wounds on his hands and arms with blood staining bits of the old clothing. His patchwork of hair didn’t help and neither of us had shaved in who knew how long though he’d never support a full beard.

  “I think I could do with all the help you can provide, Quilliam, and I do care about my appearance so please make all the changes you feel are necessary.”

  Quilliam actually smiled. “With pleasure, Sire.”

  “I don’t need the title,” Galahad said as the Brownie turned away.

  I placed a hand on his arm. “You’ll lose that argument, just accept it. Some battles aren’t worth fighting.”

  We walked into Galahad’s rooms and I wondered at the change. Gone were the references to Camelot and warfare that constantly surrounded Lancelot in a slightly untidy arrangement among the sweeping arches and high vaulted rooms. In their place stood carefully trimmed miniature trees on beautifully carved marble plinths twisting and rising like the trees they cradled. The heavy tapestries were gone and sweeping curtains of delicate gauze shimmered in the breeze from the large open windows.

  “How?” Galahad asked, touching the nearest tree with reverence.

  “Quilliam asked me what you were like, so I told him,” Severus said. “Between us and Morgan we thought you’d prefer the calm gentle grace your father lacked but your mother nurtured. Your armour and new weapons are in a separate room next door. We can have it changed if you would like.”

  “No, it’s perfect,” Galahad said.

  “I’m glad you like it,” Morgan said quietly from the doorway. “Nim and I started it but when Severus arrived we could create something we knew you’d find peaceful.”

  Galahad turned to his sister and drew her into another hug, burying his face in her thick black hair. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for caring so much. I have missed you, sister. I missed you almost as much as I missed Holt.”

  Morgan clung to her big brother and her shoulders jerked in heavy spasms as tears overwhelmed her. Severus pulled me to one side, so we lef
t them alone. Food and wine waited for me.

  “Oh, yes,” I said and picked up the fruit bowl, retreating to a chair. Severus smiled but I could see the weight of concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong, love?”

  “Lance is right to worry you about Camelot.”

  I groaned and dropped my head over the back of the chair to stare at the ceiling. “Fine,” I said, righting myself and scowling at him. “Tell me the highlights but then we are going to bed. I need to sleep, I need to hold you and I need to make love.”

  “There is a move against you remaining on the throne because of me,” he said in a rush.

  Galahad and Morgan stopped talking. My bonded companion approached us, his fingers laced with his sister’s. “Explain.”

  Severus glanced at them but spoke to me. “I know you want to abdicate but the guilds of Camelot, especially the richer ones want the monarchy of Camelot gone and they have the perfect excuse with you away so much and when you do come back you stay a few weeks and introduce me. They’ve been making your sister’s life impossible and she won’t allow me into Camelot at all. I can’t blame her either. She’s holding her stance and keeping the family safe but only because of the loyalty of Camelot’s army and the Wolf Pack. Morgan’s sent the Seventh Legion over there to help give Isabel the authority she needs to quell the guilds but outside those closest to you there is talk of open rebellion. Then The Lady’s army showed up and you didn’t.”

  “The Seventh are still in Camelot?” Galahad asked.

  Severus looked at him and nodded. “They are holding the peace now they are under siege. It’s getting ugly in there. Lance and Nim were here when the siege began, but the rest of the family are stuck in the keep, almost under siege from their own people and The Lady’s army.”

  The fruit bowl smashed into the wall, shattering into hundreds of shards, sending fruit everywhere. I stood, panting, hardly aware of my surroundings just the rage burning through my blood.

  “Someone have Sparrow saddled. I will not permit this insurrection to continue unhindered. I am going to Camelot,” I snarled.

  “You can’t,” Morgan said. Galahad pushed her back behind him, as if to protect his sister.

  “Holt, think.”

  “If those –”

  He held out his hand in a gesture meant to placate me. “Think, brother. The people need reminding who you are and what the throne does for Camelot and those within her sheltering walls. Winning against The Lady will make it clear. If they don’t want you on the throne when we have the perfect opportunity to free you from it, we hand it to your sister and her children. We can then move against the Guilds with political intelligence not war. You don’t want civil war within those walls.”

  “How dare they...”

  “Is it really that much of a stretch? They’ve been forced to endure your father and mine living here. The taxes they pay supporting them –”

  “My father was a great statesman that opened up avenues of trade in Albion –”

  “I know. I know. But...”

  “I want a head on a spike,” I growled.

  Galahad smiled. “No you don’t. You want it to go away so you can be the man you want to be with Severus at your side.”

  He was right. I stared at the mess I’d made with my flash of temper. I looked at Severus and saw his fear and worry that I would choose my throne over his love. And I looked at Galahad. The man for whom I would give my life.

  My shoulders slumped. “I know.”

  “Then you need to focus and right now we need to eat, clean up and I need to sleep,” he said.

  I grunted but the joy of returning to my home had gone. With regret and guilt stealing chunks of my conscience I began to force food down. I wished for bugleweed to help take the edge off my world, to make me feel better, to ease the miserable ache in my heart. I thought about my father, I thought about his inability to allow me a life I wanted for myself and so I wallowed.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Galahad soon left us to enjoy his first bath in months. We could hear the sigh of relief and it made Morgan smile.

  “How is he?” she asked me.

  “Honestly?” I paused for a moment, thinking about all Galahad had endured. “He’s on the edge. He’s exhausted, confused, angry, scared but utterly focused on his mission.”

  “Does he have a plan for facing The Lady?” she asked.

  “If he does he hasn’t told me,” I said. Morgan had changed over the last few months, she was far more adult and because of that influence she seemed sadder. “Are you alright?” I asked her quietly.

  Morgan looked at me, her eyes haunted. “No, no I’m not but it doesn’t matter, the most important thing is to maintain our parents’ heritage for Albion.”

  I reached across the table to take her hand. “No, Morgan, the most important thing is that we live through this and have peace in our lives. If losing the thrones of Albion and Camelot are the price it’s one we should pay.”

  “You don’t really believe that do you?” she asked me.

  “I believe your father would want you to be happy beyond all other things,” I said.

  I slowly told her about the meeting I’d had with her father and mother. The tears were silent and she gripped my hands. I also told her about the pendant and its meaning. “But,” I finished. “You cannot tell Galahad about it. Apparently, I’ll know the right time. I’ll know when to give him the power he’ll need to use. I just wanted you to know because if something happens to me...”

  Morgan nodded. “I understand. It is the way of things sometimes. Galahad shouldn’t be around anything that has true power touched by The Lady after enduring the torc for so long.” Her understanding and wisdom surprised me. “Thank you for trusting me with this, Holt.”

  The door to Galahad’s bathroom opened and a waft of steam followed him out. I caught my breath and Severus coughed to cover his gasp. The Brownies had done miracles on our young King. He wore a towel wrapped around his hips, the wounds and his hunger still clear but so were the muscle and the bone. They had shaved him and cut his hair close to the scalp so it would grow out even once more. The effect made his face harder, his eyes darker, and far more like his father’s. He was beautiful despite the scar staining the right side of his face.

  Morgan smiled. “Nicely done,” she murmured.

  Galahad grinned, a wicked glint to his eyes. “I just wanted to make an entrance.”

  “Oh, you’ve done that, brother. What’s your next trick?” she asked.

  “Finding a way to kill my foster mother,” he said, picking up fruit and groaning in pleasure from the taste.

  “We’ve not had a good track record in trying to kill her,” Severus pointed out. “And she has killed Holt.” With his fingers entwined with mine Severus had coped with me telling Morgan about The Lady’s attack, but he’d been scared by it.

  “That’s because we’ve been reacting to her, not hunting her. We’ve been running and fighting in panic. I’ve done with that, we now bring her to me,” he said, with his fists clenched.

  “Bring her how?” I asked.

  “We summon her, trial by combat,” he said.

  Silence met his idea. I glanced at first Morgan then Severus, they were both clearly horrified. “Um...” I managed.

  Galahad began to pace and I watched the mighty black cat he reminded me of in these moments. “I need to face her on my own territory. I need to make her come to me because that will make her weaker.”

  “I can’t imagine anything making her weaker,” I said. “Galahad, you almost gutted her but within days she had her hands around my throat.”

  “We have to do something and running, hiding, none of these things are working. She wants me dead. She will continue to attack you to ensure that happens. Our bonding makes us stronger but also weaker if we can’t protect you,” he said to me, still pacing.

  Morgan rose and placed her hands on Galahad’s upper arm to hold him still. Her hands were so small on his b
iceps. “We need to talk about this and many other things but first, brother, sit and eat then sleep.”

  The restless energy turned away from Morgan and slumped into a chair, picking at the fruit. Morgan watched him and slowly prepared a plate of food, placing it into his busy hands. Severus reached under the table and held my knee, concerned and scared for us with doubt clouding his eyes. The tension within my family made my bones ache. I’d been so focussed on finding and rescuing Galahad I’d lost sight of the larger picture, I’d forgotten we were surrounded by people with agendas different to mine. I’d been acting as a man, not a throne, and that gave fuel to my enemies, threatening not just the heritage of Camelot’s ruling class but also Albion’s.

  “Maybe we should be seeking advice from someone else,” I said after a significant pause.

  “Like who?” Galahad asked.

  “There must be someone who has an incentive to prevent The Lady’s plans. It’s insane that we’re supposed to stop this demi-god from taking control without help from someone or something just as powerful.”

  A flash of heat washed through the room. Morgan groaned and clutched her head. Severus yelped in pain and I felt sick from the backlash through my bonding with Galahad. We both rose slowly, my hand on my sword hilt.

  “Damn it, I’m never going to get the hang of moving around without announcing my presence to all and sundry,” said a woman.

  Her hair, the colour of a fawn’s coat, her skin, warm like a pine nut but soft like rabbit fur and her eyes, the gentle brown of a sun burned earth, made her an arresting visual image.

  “Rhea?” I asked. I hadn’t seen her since I was boy and she didn’t appear to be any different. She wore riding leathers and carried a small sword on her slim hip.

  “Hello, Holt.”

  “You haven’t changed,” I said, with an open mouthed astonishment.

  “You have, thank goodness. Wouldn’t be much use to me as a boy,” she smiled, her eyes bright.

  “You died.” Not terribly eloquent but, even by Albion’s standards, this was a surprise.