Enlighten (King Arthurs and Her Knights Book 5) (2 page)

When she was first forced to allow the handsome knight into her courts, Lancelot seemed content to focus his attention on the ladies and knights who worshipped him. Lately, though, the knight seemed to follow Britt and her closer knights. He had formed a friendship with Sir Ywain and Sir Griflet—who were universally acknowledged to be some of her favorite knights. He had also tried—but horrifically failed—to befriend Sir Kay. Recently the foreign prince had given up on Kay, though, and seemed to be gunning for Gawain before the younger knight left on a quest, taking his brother—Agravain—as his squire.

Britt ran a hand through her blonde hair. “It’s like he’s a weed and is slowly closing in.”

“I agree with Morgan. If you are worried he is drawing too close to you, speak to Merlin. He will be motivated into action—if for no other reason than to protect his investment,” Nymue said.

“Gee, thanks,” Britt dryly said.

“You’re welcome,” Nymue said, looking down her nose.

“It would be the wise thing to do,” Morgan said.

Britt heaved a great sigh. “Yeah, you guys are probably right. Okay, any other matters of business to discuss?”

“Yes!” Nymue said with great relish. “I wish to complain about Lancelot’s dreaded cousin—Sir Lionel. Recently one of his faerie loves stumbled into my lake and will not cease prattling about him. It is vexing!”

“Thank you for recounting your adventures, Sir Safir,” Britt said as she shifted in her chair that was pushed up to the Round Table. “It is to your credit that you so swiftly slew the giant and finished your quest.”

“Thank you, My Lord. I hope Camelot is honored by my acts,” the knight said before he sat down.

“Yes, anything else?” Britt asked, leaning against her arm rest so she could twist and look up at Merlin—who hovered behind her shoulder.

“No. I believe we are finished here—although there will be feasting tonight in honor of Sir Safir,” Merlin said.

“Excellent. I look forward to it,” Britt said before she slipped from her chair, ending the meeting.

“My Lord, there will be a change in your guard rotation,” Sir Kay—Britt’s supposed foster brother—said, stepping closer to murmur the words.

Britt blinked. “Is there a problem?” she asked. She knew her guards quite well. They all were excellent men whom Kay trusted with her life—which was the highest honor the taciturn young man could give.

“No. Some of the men are swapping their shifts. That is all.”

“Okay. Thanks for the head’s up,” Britt said.

Sir Kay accepted the strange word choice—for his time, anyway—and gathered up his papers.

Britt stretched her arms above her head and found Merlin not far from her. “Merlin, could I talk to you for a moment?” Britt asked, ambling up to the wizard and glancing at his clothes.

In the summer of the previous year, Merlin had ditched his usual gray, Gandalf-rip-off robe. He now mostly wore a fitted black cloak over a colored tunic—today it was a deep forest green. If he wanted to look particularly mystical and magical he pulled up the hood, which gave his striking face an almost oracle-like air. Originally Britt rejoiced in the lack of clichéd clothes, but after a few days she realized the costume change made Merlin several degrees more handsome—an observation Britt was already battling.

“Is something wrong?” Merlin asked. He tilted his head as his eyes swept up and down her body, as if looking for obvious wounds.

“No—well, not anything serious. But there’s something I want to discuss,” Britt said.

Merlin frowned. “For the last time, you cannot skip out on tomorrow’s court session. I don’t care if Kay found a white bear that sings, dances, and matches that blasted hart of yours. You’re the King of Camelot and your butt will be on that throne if I have to tie you there myself.”

“It’s not that, and my deer’s name is Rudolph,” Britt said, referring to the white buck Sir Gawain had brought back to Camelot as a gift for Britt after completing his first quest.

Merlin’s frown deepened to a scowl. “Must you name every animal you come across? It’s not very kingly.”

“Don’t care. So can we go to your study? I—”

“My Lord, My Lord! Are there any towns crying out for a savior, or damsels in need of aid?” Sir Griflet, a young, exuberant knight asked, nearly crashing into Britt’s chair as he skid up to her.

“I’m sorry, what?” Britt said.

“Surely someone or someplace has signaled to you a need for a champion,” Sir Griflet said.

Sir Ywain—Griflet’s friend and supposedly Britt’s nephew—rolled his eyes behind his friend’s back. “He wants to go out on a quest, My Lord.”

Britt’s lips eased into a slight smile. “You’re that eager to leave my courts, Griflet?”

“Not at all, My Lord. I am merely desirous of spreading news of your greatness!” Griflet said.

“Lady Blancheflor still doesn’t know he exists,” Sir Ywain said, naming the pretty girl Griflet had been calf-eyed over for nearly a year. “He wants to do great deeds to build up his reputation so she’ll acknowledge him.”

“Vagrant!” Griflet huffed.

“So she still is a dedicated admirer of Lancelot, is she? That’s tough,” Britt said.

“The Lady Blancheflor knows my name,” Sir Griflet insisted.

“Only because you’ve written her so much poetry she couldn’t possibly make such a mistake,” Sir Ywain said, earning a scowl from his friend.

“You recreant—”

“It is unfortunate, Griflet, but I have not received any requests for help or aid,” Britt said, interrupting the friends before they could start insulting each other’s honor. “You could always follow Sir Gawain’s example, and leave with the intent of
finding
wrongs and righting them.”

Griflet frowned and looked at the ground.

“Nay, My Lord. He can’t do that. Sir Lancelot du Lac has said that any knight that aimlessly wanders without a quest in his mind is foolish and without purpose,” Sir Ywain supplied for his friend.

Britt gave the pair a flat look. “Sir Lancelot is an idiot who—before he came to my courts—wandered aimlessly without a quest in his mind.”

“
Arthur
,” Merlin hissed.

Britt half-expected Merlin to jab his elbow in her side, but he didn’t. He hadn’t elbowed her since awkwardness entered their relationship the previous summer when Britt admitted her feelings for the wizard, and the wizard rebuffed her. They had fought and ignored each other for a few days after, until they had The Talk—as Britt had come to call it—which cleared the air between them. Still, ever since The Talk, she felt the strain on their friendship. There was an extra barrier between her and Merlin that hadn’t previously existed.

She ignored Merlin’s hissed warning and smiled at her young knights.  “If you are so eager to impress your lady, Griflet, I suggest you think it over. Why, I would go off on a quest myself if I didn’t think Kay would make me drag twenty guards with me, and Merlin would follow behind with half of my court.”

“
Arthur
!” Merlin repeated, this time his voice was a snarl.

“Think on it.” Britt patted Griflet’s shoulder in a clear dismissal before she turned to face Merlin with a bright smile. “Yes, Merlin?”

Merlin eyed her. “You need to work on holding your tongue in matters pertaining to Lancelot.”

“Why bother?”

“Because he is a knight and a foreign prince who happens to be a member of your Round Table!” Merlin said.

“Whatever,” Britt grumbled. “So, as I was saying, could we talk?”

“Certainly. Shall we—”

“My Lord?”

Britt turned to find herself face to face with Sir Bedivere—her marshal and one of the few knights in Merlin’s close circle who had no knowledge of her gender or true identity. Even so, Britt considered him one of her most staunch supporters—he was the first knight besides Kay to truly believe in her.

“Sir Bedivere, how can I help you?” Britt asked.

“I am aware you already received the new knights who arrive in Camelot this morning, but I was hoping you would take a few additional minutes to speak to them,” Sir Bedivere said, indicating to a group of young knights waiting several paces away.

“You don’t usually have me directly address new recruits after my initial welcome,” Britt carefully said.

“Indeed, because usually it is a waste of your time. But I agree with Sir Bedivere. You should speak with these knights,” Merlin said.

Britt narrowed her eyes. “Who are they related to?”

Through unfortunate experience, Britt had learned just about every knight that came to her court had a cousin or sibling already in her service—which meant Britt had to treat them like glass, lest their cousin/sibling/powerful relative would be offended.

“Related to, My Lord?” Sir Bedivere asked, his forehead wrinkling.

Merlin impatiently waved a hand through the air, attempting to swat Britt’s suspicions away. “They are renown knights who have already done a great deal of good.”

“
Who
are they related to?” Britt demanded.

“Sir Percival, the oldest son of King Pellinore, is in their ranks,” Sir Bedivere said.

Britt sighed. “I would complain about nepotism, but I actually
like
Pellinore. Fine, but can’t it wait? I need to speak to Merlin for a few minutes.”

“Of course, My Lord,” Sir Bedivere said in a reluctant way which made it clear that no, it couldn’t really wait.

The clatter of children running across the stone floor caught Britt’s attention, and she looked up to see Gareth and Gaheris—the youngest of the four Orkney princes—screech to a halt a stone’s throw away from her. They looked like they wanted to throw themselves at her, but were keeping themselves in check, having finally—after much tutoring from Gawain—grasped the fact that Britt was an important figure and was not only their beloved “uncle.”

Since Gawain and Agravain’s absence, the pair had become more affectionate with Britt. They were still little—perhaps ten or eleven-years-old—and they had yet to lose their adorable, baby possum looks with their big eyes and sweet expressions.

Britt groaned in the back of her throat.

Merlin moved, as if to pat Britt on her shoulder before he thought better of it and smiled at her. “I can talk to you later today, Arthur. Good luck.”

“Right, thanks,” Britt said. She offered Gareth and Gaheris a smile, motioning for them to draw closer. “Hello, nephews. How did your training go this morning?” Britt asked.

“My archery teacher says I have a natural eye,” Gareth said.

“I rode a charger and hit the dummy in jousting practice,” Gaheris said, almost jumping in place as Britt placed an affectionate hand on top of his head.

“Well done! I’m about to speak with a few new knights. Would you two like to accompany me?” Britt asked.

“Yes, please, My Lord,” the boys chorused.

“Alright. Lead on, Sir Bedivere,” Britt said, offering her marshal a smile.

Merlin watched the knight lead Britt and the boys away. When she greeted the knights, she flashed them with her stunning smile—not the one she kept tucked on her face as King Arthur, but the smile she wore when she was genuinely pleased. The knight who caused the smile— Pellinore’s son—gawked and lost his composure for a moment when faced with her radiant looks.

The wizard shook his head as he watched Britt lead the Orkney princes and the new arrivals from the room. They trailed around her with open expressions. Merlin knew that by the end of the walk, all of the knights would be completely, utterly loyal to her.

Britt won over men to her cause with pretty words and speeches like no ruler Merlin had ever heard of. In his heart of hearts Merlin wondered if it was because she was a girl, but he also suspected that Britt knew how to appeal to the young knights’ natures. They weren’t that difficult to figure out—all they longed for was for someone to see something of worth in them.

“I’m not one of her knights she can lead like a lamb,” Merlin reminded himself. Over the previous summer, Merlin made the unfortunate discovery that he was fond of Britt. Far more fond than he had any right to be, and far more fond of her than he ever
wished
to be. “I like her no more than I like Sir Ector, or Sir Kay—well, more than Sir Kay,” Merlin muttered.