“Probably. His name is Roen.”
Agravain started brushing his horse again. “He seemed poorly muscled for a stallion. Ow!” he said when Gawain reached over the stall wall and smacked his brother on the head.
“He’s not a stallion, he’s a gelding,” Britt said.
“Not a stallion? He can’t be your war steed then, My Lord?” Gawain asked.
“No, he is my mount of choice for battles. He’s trained for them, but as a bonus I don’t have to half kill him to keep him under control when a mare prances past. It’s a wonder more soldiers don’t ride mares just to make knights lose control of their horses,” Britt said.
Outside the church bells rang. Britt counted the tolls before grimacing. “As entertaining as this has been I must leave. We will dine soon, and Merlin will never forgive me if I arrive smelling like a pig. I will see you all this evening I suppose—thank you, Gareth. Cavall, come,” Britt said, taking the beanbag when Gareth handed it to her before leaving the stable, Cavall on her heels.
Chapter 3
Family Loyalties
“You have done magnificent things even though you have been on the throne for but a short time,” Morgause said.
Britt muffled a yawn as she strolled with Morgause. The evening feast was still in full swing, but when Britt expressed a desire to walk around the great hall the queen insisted on coming with. Unable to politely refuse her company, even though Morgause was the very reason Britt wanted to leave the table, Britt reluctantly accepted.
“Even the fae accept you, else they never would have given you a sword even half as grand as Excalibur,” Morgause said with a meaningful look at Excalibur, which hung from Britt’s belt. “Your men are so loyal to you. I heard how bravely they fought for you against my husband and his allies. They sounded so fearsome, but now that I have come I can see they fought out of love for you.”
After a few moments of silence Britt realized Morgause was finally expecting a reply. “You are too kind, My Lady.”
Morgause’s smile did not glitter as it usually did. Instead she pursed her lips and looked around, removing her attention from Britt.
Wherever Britt and Morgause walked knights watched them like lovesick puppies. Morgause seemed to gain more admirers by the moment, or more realistically her magic was able to reach deeper and deeper into the hearts of Britt’s men every hour she spent at Camelot.
Britt stopped and turned around. Griflet and Ywain were still there. The pair had shadowed Britt and Morgause since they first stepped off the dais. Griflet watched Morgause with calf eyes, but Ywain kept his attention on Britt, which was starting to make her uneasy.
Britt twitched her fingers at the teenagers in a ‘come here’ gesture. Griflet happily complied, claiming Morgause’s attention as soon as he drew near.
“My Lady, you are simply beautiful this night,” he said, bowing so low he had to adjust his tunic when he came upright. He completely ignored Britt. “You are more graceful than a swan.”
Morgause laughed, the sparkle returning to her smile. “Thank you, young knight.”
“Oh, I am no knight. Not yet anyway. I am just a man who is happy to bask in your beauty.”
“Are you sure you are not a knight? You speak and hold yourself like one,” Morgause flirted.
“My Lady, I cannot say how glad your words make me.”
Britt rolled her eyes at the nauseating display—Griflet was younger than Gawain and was making quite the spectacle of himself, although the other lovesick puppies probably didn’t notice anyway—before she turned to Ywain.
The young man was intensely quiet, something unusual for him as he was prone to dramatic displays.
“Everything alright, Ywain?” Britt asked.
“I was thinking of asking you the same thing, My Lord,” Ywain said.
“The food is delicious and everyone is more or less behaving themselves, what more could I ask for?”
Ywain hesitated. “If I may be so bold, My Lord?”
“You are my defender, Ywain. If you have something on your mind please share it.”
Ywain glanced at Griflet and Morgause—who were still carrying on over each other—and leaned closer. “My Lord is not… amorous of Queen Morgause?”
Britt blinked. “The Queen is twice my age, married, and my half sister. No, I cannot say I am at all amorous of her.”
Ywain’s shoulders heaved in relief. “I am glad to hear it. She is an enchantress, My Lord. She knows magic. She has powers over most men. She may seem nice, but she has the cunning of a viper, if you will pardon my frankness, My Lord.”
Britt stared at Ywain for a moment.
The young man uneasily shifted. “Did I speak out of turn, My Lord?”
Britt smiled and set her hand on his shoulders. “You did not. I was merely thinking that I have underestimated you, and I should prize your loyalty more highly than I already do.”