King Arthur and Her Knights: Enthroned #1, Enchanted #2, Embittered #3 (20 page)

Britt snapped her head to look at Merlin so quickly she almost gave herself whiplash. “Half brother? My heirs?” she carefully repeated.

Merlin was no help as he had also been taken by a fit of coughing at Morgause’s proclamation.

“You mean he didn’t tell you?” Morgause said, her voice false and coy. “We share the same mother, Igraine. She birthed myself and my two sisters years before she met Uther, had you, and became Uther’s wife.”

Merlin finally found his voice. “What are you getting at, Morgause?”

“Nothing, I am merely explaining our family connections to my dear half brother,” Morgause said.

Britt thought for a moment before carefully replying. “I am overjoyed to learn this. I greatly treasure my relationship with my foster parents and brother, I hope we can reach the same level of affection as I have for them.”

Merlin muttered under his breath, but Morgause laughed. “How quaint, yes I hope so as well.”

“Gawain is
not
Arthur’s heir,” Merlin said.

“Nonsense. Arthur is but a boy himself, Gawain is older than he is! As Arthur has no wife, much less children, Gawain must be his heir.”

Britt covered a grimace by drinking more wine. She was greatly relieved when she saw Sir Bedivere climb the few stairs to the dais and bow. She opened her mouth to acknowledge the knight, but she was shocked when he addressed not Britt, but Morgause.

“Queen Morgause, it is a pleasure to receive you here in Camelot. Your presence adds to the beauty of the place,” Sir Bedivere bowed.

“How charming you are. What is your name, good sir knight?” Morgause gaily laughed.

“Bedivere, I am Arthur’s marshal,” Sir Bedivere said.

Bedivere’s statement made Britt sit up straight and pay closer attention. Never before had Sir Bedivere referred to Britt without some sort of honorific.

“Sir Bedivere, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Morgause said.

“If I may ask, My Lady, how long do you mean to stay in Camelot?” Sir Bedivere said.

“As long as my dear brother allows me, I suppose,” Morgause said, smiling beautifully at Britt before she leaned closer.

Britt held her breath to keep from coughing in Morgause’s cloying lily perfume. “An extended stay, then?” Britt asked, briefly rubbing her nose. “I would have thought Lot would summon you home as swiftly as possible,” she said with a sliver of a smile.

Morgause frowned as Sir Bedivere said, “Oh please, My Lady, do stay. All of Camelot would morn if you were to suddenly leave.”

Britt blinked.
What
? The whole castle was filled with panic and dread the moment it was announced Morgause had arrived! What was Sir Bedivere talking about? Britt chugged the last few sips of her wine and turned to Merlin to make sure he was hearing this. The wizard had his arms crossed and was studying Morgause with narrowed eyes.

Morgause laughed. “And I say again that you are charming and sweet. It is a shame we do not have more knights like you, Sir Bedivere, in Orkney,” Morgause said, leaning forward to draw closer to the knight.

Sir Bedivere smiled in spite of the sudden onslaught of the lady’s perfume. He was silent for a few moments before saying, “It is a bigger shame that Lot was not able to pull the sword from the stone, for then you would be Camelot’s queen.”

Britt dropped her goblet, which hit the wooden dais with a metallic clang before rolling for some paces. She held her hand out, as if she was still gripping her dropped cup, and stared at Sir Bedivere.

Somewhere behind Britt an attendant scrambled for another cup as Morgause pulled back from Sir Bedivere, her smile not nearly as brilliant as she glanced at Britt. “Sir Bedivere, I fear you are speaking unfairly. Arthur is a fine king,” she said, touching Britt’s shoulder.

Britt continued to stare at Sir Bedivere, shaking her head slightly. She was barely aware of the attendant pushing a new goblet filled with wine into her hand before she knocked half of it back in one gulp.

Merlin had abandoned all pretenses of welcoming Morgause and was writing something in a small logbook, looking very much like Sir Kay.

“I suppose, but the realm would greatly benefit if you ruled, My Lady,” Sir Bedivere said.

Morgause again leaned towards Britt. “Perhaps it is a shame that I am married and Arthur is my brother, in that case,” she said, her voice teasing as she leaned into Britt.

Britt stared Morgause down with furrowed eyebrows and a frown creased on her face. The older woman quickly caught on to Britt’s bad mood and pulled back, clearing her throat.

Sir Bedivere blundered further as Britt sipped her wine. “You would make a splendid Empress of Britain, My Lady,” he said, his eyes hooked on Morgause.

Britt pushed aside her herring pie and set her goblet—which was empty again—down on the table with a clack. “That is enough, Sir Bedivere,” she said, her voice void of emotion and inflection.

Sir Bedivere took a step back at Britt’s voice. His eyes were wide with horror and he briefly placed a fist in front of his mouth. “My Lord, I-I don’t know what came over me. My Lord,” he stammered before bowing to Britt and leaving as abruptly as he came.

Britt eyed the knight as he left before she shooed the wine attendant away from her cup.

“Are you displeased, Arthur?” Morgause asked.

“I know you are not an idiot, My Lady, but you sound like a dunce when you ask questions you already know the answer to,” Britt said, staring across the table.

Gareth and Gaheris seemed oblivious to the table’s tension, but Agravain had sunk until he was almost entirely beneath the table. Only his head was visible over his plate. Gawain was staring at his lap, no longer touching his food.

Rather than snarling, as she would with Merlin, Morgause held her hands to her heart. “I apologize. Men can be such silly things. I take their words as compliments, but please be assured that I think you are a marvelous king,” she said, placing her hand on Britt’s bicep before she leaned closer again.

Britt stood, brushing Morgause off. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I need a few moments of fresh air,” she said, doing her best to smile at her table guests. “Cavall, come,” she said, snapping her fingers as she trotted down the dais.

The mastiff snuffled as he edged out from under the table and followed Britt, leaving her astonished tablemates behind.

Ywain stood near the base of the dais with a new friend of his—Griflet if Britt remembered correctly. Griflet was watching Morgause with calf eyes, but Ywain stared at Britt, worry creasing his lips.

Britt spared the young man a smile, and Ywain performed an elaborate bow. By the time he was upright, Britt had disappeared from the room.

Later that evening Britt stormed Merlin’s study, throwing the door open without knocking. “What was
that
?” she asked without preamble before kicking the door shut behind her.

“
That
was Morgause, petty witch and temptress extraordinaire,” Merlin wryly said, tucking a book into a bookshelf.

“Petty? Sir Bedivere insulted me to my
face
, Merlin. That isn’t petty magic,” Britt said, pacing the width of the room.

Merlin blinked. “You are upset,” he said, sounding surprised.

“Of course I’m upset! Why
wouldn’t
I be upset?”

“Normally you have a placid temperament that cannot be stirred. Why do Morgause’s mind games upset you so?” Merlin asked.

Britt briefly leaned against one of Merlin’s worktables, her eyes were dark as she stared at the wall and hissed, “Because before this I had not been insulted by one of my own men—whom
I
bequeathed a title to—in my own castle.”

“Ah. When you say it like that…,” Merlin trailed off, rubbing his chin.

“What does she mean to accomplish by swaying my men like this? Does she want me to throw them out of Camelot or toss them in the dungeon? She’s trying to achieve something,” Britt said.

“She’s trying to win their favor, and yours too. Fortunately for us you aren’t a calf eyed boy who fancies older women. Morgause’s magic will never work on you, but she doesn’t know that so she’ll keep trying,” Merlin said.

“Why?”

“She wants to win you over and lower your guard.”

“She means to kill me.”

“Morgause? No. She is too subtle for that. This trip of hers is for no purpose other than to parade Gawain around and win over the men of your castle so when Lot sends a warrior to kill you in stealth, Camelot will be besotted and will surrender peacefully,” Merlin said, spinning a glass model of the sun.

“Oh, fantastic. That is
so
much better,” Britt said.

Merlin shrugged. “It’s better than attempting to kill you outright.”

Britt sat down in a wooden chair, stretching her legs in front of her. “So how are you going to break Morgause’s enchantment?”

Merlin rubbed his chin and studied Britt. “I am not.”

“
What
?”

“I am not going to break the enchantment Morgause has over the knights of Camelot. If I do those stupid goats who are falling for it will become her pawns again the moment they set eyes on her.”

“But we can’t let her wander around loose, wreaking havoc! How do you propose we survive in a castle full of Morgause lovers?” Britt asked.

Merlin took a stuffed owl off his desk and put it on a high shelf. “It will be fine. The men who really matter haven’t fallen for her tricks. Yet. Kay and Sir Ector are normal.”

“What about Bedivere? He’s not fine, and he’s important,” Britt said.

“If you’re so worried maybe
you
should do something about it,” Merlin said.

“What are you talking about? I can’t do anything, I don’t know any magic.”

“Yes, but if your men were undyingly loyal to you not even Morgause’s magic could entice them.”

“So how do I make them undyingly loyal?” Britt asked.

Merlin didn’t answer and brushed dust off a sorry looking plant.

Britt sighed and massaged her forehead. “I don’t understand you. You yell at me for doing anything without your permission, and then you refuse to help me when I ask for it.”

“No one ever said being King would be easy,” Merlin said.

“It’s not like you gave me a choice! I’m not Arthur, I didn’t get to run off with a shepherdess. I’m Britt Arthurs,
you
dragged me from my home and life so I could be your king. The least you could do is explain what is happening,” Britt snapped.

Merlin didn’t defend himself and dusted a second plant before changing the conversation topic. “It is troubling that you cannot understand Morgause’s offspring.”

“Yeah, but it’s not surprising. Are they speaking Gaelic? They’re from the north, right? Isn’t that Scotland?” Britt asked.

“No, they are speaking English, admittedly with a very thick accent. I wonder…,” Merlin said before plucking a book from his bookshelf. He paged through it for a few minutes, his eyes tracing letters as Britt closed her eyes and relaxed in the warm room.

“Ah-hah. Here is the problem,” Merlin finally declared, pointing to a passage in his book. “It is the spell I used to bring you back through time. I knew there was a good possibility we may end up with a foreigner king, and it would do no good to have a worthy king if he couldn’t understand what we were saying. Keeping this in mind I added a portion to the spell which I borrowed from an ancient faerie magic which would enlighten whomever I brought back to understand my language. I never thought to include any provision for accents. Gawain and his brothers are speaking English, but their pronunciation is horrible. It is likely that their accents have kept the spell from working.”

“If it’s just a matter of accents why can I understand Morgause perfectly?” Britt asked.

“Morgause was born in central Britain. She does not have an accent,” Merlin said.

“I suppose that makes sense. This is good, right? It should be easy to fix,” Britt said.

Merlin grimly shook his head. “I don’t know. Faerie magic is difficult to translate, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a spell of theirs that refers to human accents. With time it is possible I will be able to come up with something, but it will likely be months before I will have anything to cast on you.”