Embark (King Arthur and Her Knights Book 4) (8 page)

“Thank you for your help, Blaise,” Merlin said, glancing at Britt—who was unaware of his scrutiny as she adjusted her stirrup. “She was happy about the Round Table, but since Lancelot’s arrival she looks more and more like a person shoved to the brink of an abyss.”

“I am glad I could lighten her load. I only hope it helps,” Blaise said.

“It will. She has not laughed half as much since she arrived in our time,” Merlin said.

“I wanted to ask you about that,” Blaise said. “She’s been here over a year and a half, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Has she changed at all? Physically I mean?”

“No. All her measurements are the same—or so the tailor and armor smiths tell me. Why?” Merlin asked, looking at his mentor with worry.

Blaise hesitated. “It only occurred to me, that as a person of the future stationed in the past…”

“Yes?”

“She might not age,” Blaise finally said. “Whatever magic you used on her had to be powerful to pull her back through recorded history. It might have stunted her aging.”

Merlin frowned as he studied Britt, his brilliant blue eyes swirling.

Blaise patted Merlin on the back. “Do not worry over it. It is just the musings of an old man. Be careful with her.”

Merlin snorted. “You don’t have to tell
me
that. Tell her! She is always going off on all sorts of fool’s errands, nearly breaking her neck.”

“I wasn’t talking about her physical body. She has a gentle heart. Move carefully,” Blaise said before slipping past Merlin to say farewell to Britt.

Merlin was frozen in the doorway for a moment. “What in the name of—what is that supposed to mean?” Merlin muttered before following him.

“Thank you for visiting, Britt. I hope to see you again someday soon,” Blaise said, smiling up at Britt.

“Thank you, me too. I would still like to hear about whatever it is that embarrasses Merlin so badly,” Britt said, patting her mare’s neck.

“Someday,” Blaise promised. “I wish you luck. You are a great King, Britt Arthurs.”

“Thank you.”

Blaise turned to Merlin. “Well, my greatest pupil, I wish you well in your endeavors. Come again when you have more stories to share so I might record them.”

“Hmph,” Merlin said before he boosted himself onto his horse’s back. “Take care,” he finally said.

“I will. Ride well—and try not to bring down Stonehenge.”

“
Blaise
,” Merlin groaned over Blaise’s booming laughter as Britt and Merlin rode from the cottage.

“I like him,” Britt said.

“I’m not surprised,” Merlin groused.

Chapter 7

Sad Returns

Britt and Merlin made good time on their ride home, and the sun was still high in the sky when they were less than half an hour—or so Britt estimated—away from Camelot.

“You’ve been quiet,” Britt observed, tucking a strand of her gold-colored hair behind her ear.

Merlin squinted at the sky. “It’s nothing. Just something Blaise said. I cannot fathom what he meant by it.”

“What did he say?”

“That you have a gentle heart, and I should be careful with you.”

Impressed that the hermit had caught on to her favorable feelings for Merlin, Britt raised her eyebrows. “That was…kind of him I guess.”

“I cannot make sense of it. It is almost like he thought…” Merlin cut himself off and dropped his panicked gaze to Britt. “You are not in love with one of your knights, are you? Was it Gawain or Tor? Is that why you rode off questing? It cannot be Kay—he is as comforting as a mountain bear.”

Britt burst into gusting laughing. “I am not in love with them, no.”

“Good,” Merlin said, settling back into the saddle. “That would have been worrisome.”

“Give me some credit. I’m not going to fall for a boy still in his teenage years. My gosh, I’m at least five years older than most of them!”

“So the older knights then? Sir Bedivere is about your age, I believe.”

“I’m not in love with Sir Bedivere.”

“Then Sir Bodwain, or Sir Ulfius?”

“Sir Ulfius could be my
dad
. No! I’m not in love with any of my knights!” Britt said.

“Good,” Merlin repeated, falling silent again as Britt shook her head.

Britt steered Llamrei around a puddle and ducked a branch before Merlin spoke again. “Is it me?”

Britt felt her stomach turn cold—like it was sitting on ice. “What?” she said, trying to laugh.

“You never said you weren’t in love, you just said you weren’t in love with a
knight
. I’m older than you, and Blaise told
me
I needed to be careful with you.”

Britt momentarily considered fessing up, before deciding that would make life awkward. “How big is your ego? I—”

“Tell the truth, lass,” Merlin said, his voice tight.

Britt made a show of rolling her eyes. “Merlin. You—”

“Look at me,” Merlin said, drawing Britt’s gaze to him. “Look at me, and
promise
that you do not love me!”

Britt opened her mouth, but couldn’t say anything.

“Just say it, Britt!” Merlin said, clenching his horse’s reins.

Britt swallowed and looked away.

Merlin groaned loudly and shouted something in a language Britt couldn’t understand.

“What’s your problem?” Britt frowned.

“What is my
problem
? My problem is that everything was going
so well
, and your stupid…” Merlin could seem to find the right word as he gestured at Britt with a hand. “Your, your
feminine
heart
has just ruined everything.”

Britt frowned deeper. “You’re being dramatic. Nothing has changed.”

“But that’s not true, is it? Everything has changed. You cannot love me, Britt. I forbid it!”

“Why? It’s not like I was going to ever act on it,” Britt said.

“Because this cannot happen. You will jeopardize everything we’ve worked for! You cannot start getting lovesick—you’re King Arthur! You’re supposed to be a man! Do you know what will happen if your knights that you love oh-so-much find out that you’re a woman? They will rebel! I will lose everything I have worked for!” Merlin said.

“What part of my personality would
ever
make you think that I would be lovesick?” Britt demanded.

“Don’t play games. You are a female! You are a creature of passion and love. Sooner or later you will get dreamy eyed and start crying because I will never return your love.”

Britt’s tone was even and dark. “What.”

“You will turn into a swooning girl, like every other female in this time, and your court will crumble when they see how weak you are.”

“I resent that implication! What a—you are the most sexiest jerk I have met in this century!” Britt shouted.

Merlin groaned. “I take it back. You are just as bad as the rest of your gender!”

“How can you even say such lies? I can be a woman and still be strong—you’re scared stiff of Morgause and Nymue, don’t try to deny it. And besides that, you didn’t have a
clue
that I’ve been in love with you, so I’m not obvious!”

“You’re not. There is that saving grace,” Merlin said, regaining some of his calmness. “Look, Britt. Whatever your
feelings
are for me, they must end. Now.”

“Don’t
worry
,” Britt promised, her eyes flashing as she tightened up her reins. “From hence forth, I will hold you on the same level of affection and esteem that I hold
Lancelot
!” Britt said before heeling Llamrei.

“Britt,” Merlin managed to say before the white mare took off, cantering down the road. When Merlin also cued his horse forward, Britt sank closer to Llamrei’s neck and clung to her as the great mare threw herself into a gallop.

They popped out of the Forest of Arroy, booking it across the meadow in front of Camelot like a streak of lightning. They skid through the city gates and trotted up the busy road that led the way into the inner palace—into the keep.

By the time Britt reached the royal stables, Sir Kay and several guards were waiting for her.

“Arthur, is something wrong?” Sir Kay asked, his eyes tracing her for injuries.

Britt harshly laughed. “Why don’t you ask
Merlin
? He seems to think the end is near,” Britt said, savagely glaring at the wizard, who clattered into the stable courtyard on his skinny horse.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, sliding from his horse. “We need to talk.”

“Enough!” Britt yelled, making several horses spook. “Whatever it is you fear, I can vow that it will
never happen
. Believe me, what little threat there was is entirely gone. But if you
dare
to speak to me like that again, you will find yourself without a king to manipulate,” Britt said.

Sir Kay and the guards were frozen, like practice targets. Merlin shifted, but said nothing in reply.

Glaring to keep back the tears, Britt swept from the stable, knocking into Lancelot on her way out.

“My Lord?” the vapid knight said, tipping his head like a curious dog.

“Sorry,” Britt muttered, moving around him as she stormed to the keep, Sir Ywain and Sir Griflet trotted about twenty paces behind her.

Britt briefly turned back to look at the stable and saw some kind of messenger approach Merlin.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to push the wizard off Camelot’s walls. He had done the most possible damage to her, not by being unable to return her feelings, but by entirely
rebuffing
her, and acting as if it was the worst betrayal she could possibly commit.

Britt shook her head and entered the keep. “Never again,” she vowed.

Two days later, Britt was admiring the gardens with Queen Adelind—Pellinore’s lovely wife. The older woman was commenting on the blooming flowers, when the two were interrupted.

“My Lord?”

Britt flashed a genuine smile of pleasure when she saw who greeted her. “Sir Gawain, Sir Tor—you have victoriously returned,” Britt said.

Sir Tor—his arm in a cloth sling—smiled. “We did, My Lord. We completed our quests—although I might be a little worse for the wear,” he admitted.

Sir Gawain looked down at the ground.

“Congratulations, I cannot wait to hear of your adventure,” Britt said. “I planned to hold a feast when all three of you—King Pellinore included—returned, but in the meantime I would love to hear what, er, befell you.”

“If you forgive my frankness, My Lord, but there is no telling when my
dear
husband will return,” Queen Adelind dryly said. “He has gone out on an inspection of our lands and disappeared for months on end. He many not return to Camelot until next week, or next year.”

Britt hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Hold the feast, My Lord. I’m sure your knights deserve it,” Queen Adelind said, patting Britt’s hand. She curtseyed to the knights and left.

“That settles it, then. I’ll tell Sir Ulfius and Sir Kay we are celebrating your return immediately. Are you too tired to tell your stories to the Round Table tonight?” Britt asked.

“Not at all,” Sir Tor said.

Britt hesitated when Sir Gawain still didn’t look at her. “Are you alright, Gawain?” she asked, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, My Lord,” Sir Gawain said.

“Excellent,” Britt said. “In that case, let the preparations begin!”

Britt spared no expense in hosting the young knights’ feast. There were musicians, jugglers, a fire breather, trays and trays of food, and an endless supply of wine.

Spirits were high. The hall was filled with laughing ladies, and well humored knights.

Britt’s table was in better spirits than it had been. Guinevere was still at the table—as was Merlin, but Britt wouldn’t look at the wizard or speak to him unless it was for a court function. She was grateful that Tor and Gawain, as the honored guests, sat with her, giving her someone to happily talk to.

After most of the food had been served, Gawain and Tor told their tales.

“My story is rather silly,” Sir Tor said, laughing good naturedly. He glanced behind him, where Lem stood as his squire. “I rode forth with My Lord, that is to say King Arthur, in search of the white hound. While on the hound’s trail we ran across two recreant knights. They attacked us. I threw myself on one, and My Lord disarmed the other. We granted them their lives and instructed them to come back to Camelot to swear loyalty. I say—did they ever pledge loyalty to you, My Lord?” Sir Tor asked, momentarily distracted.

“They did,” Britt nodded. Her chair was pushed back from the table and her hands were occupied petting Cavall’s head—which the large mastiff had placed on her lap. “Mounted as I was, my party and I beat them back. I believe they are helping with the summer crops.”

“Oh, Good,” Sir Tor said before abruptly returning to his story. “The knight that I defeated had a great squire, Lem, who graciously offered to serve as my squire. I’m particularly happy about that,” Sir Tor said, stepping aside so those not on the dais could get a glimpse of the new squire. “Some knights from Camelot came out about then and rode back to Camelot with My Lord, but Lem and I kept following the trail of the knight that kidnapped the hound. Lem knew him—by sight anyway—and led me to the campground of the lady that the knight paid homage to. She—and her lady servants—were sleeping, with the white hound staked and tied up outside their tents with no food or water. T’was deplorable. The poor dog was so happy to see us it started whining—which woke up the lady. She ordered me to leave it, but I told I couldn’t. T’was my quest from King Arthur. She warned me she would send her knight after me, but I paid her no heed, and Lem and I set out for Camelot.”