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.