Merlin’s contact was a short, skinny merchant who seemed to be scarcely less intelligent than Merlin himself. He agreed to host them and provided beds and food for all four of them. Merlin spent most of the afternoon closeted with the merchant, leaving Britt with Lancelot and Gawain.
Due to a particular member of her company, Britt had a headache by the time night fell. When the midnight watch called the headache still hadn’t left. Rather than wake her companions, Britt told the merchant—who was wide awake and inspecting his wares—she was going to take a walk.
He insisted she wear a short, hooded cloak, which Britt put on before she slipped out of the house and wandered Camelgrance freely. “They have quite lax security here considering it’s much smaller than Camelot,” Britt said after nodding to a patrolling soldier—who didn’t even stop to question her reason for being out at such a late hour.
Britt’s wanderings eventually brought her to the keep. As she passed near the stables she thought she heard crying. Britt followed her ears to the castle garden. She kept to the shadows, stopping when she saw the sobbing came from Guinevere.
The younger girl had cast herself face down on the lip of the fountain. Her normally glossy, braided hair was a wild bush around her, and instead of her beautiful dress she wore a plain kirtle.
“Probably agonizing over a handsome face,” Britt muttered. Her heart softened, though, when she remembered Leodegrance’s trouble. In all likelihood, Leodegrance had told Guinevere she was going to marry Maleagant.
Britt sighed and pulled up the hood of her cloak, making sure it covered her golden hair. “What troubles you, My Lady?” Britt asked in the gruffest voice she could muster.
“What? Who is there?” Guinevere said, wiping tears from her red eyes.
“I mean you no harm,” Britt said, hoping the princess wouldn’t call for guards.
“Who are you?”
“I’m… the gardener,” Britt said.
Guinevere wiped her nose on her sleeve. “What would a gardener care about the troubles of a silly girl?” Guinevere harshly laughed.
“I care for the troubles of most people. Silly girls included. Now, what troubles you, My Lady?” Britt patiently asked.
“You must have heard, Father must give me to Duke Maleagant, or the duke will bring war upon us.”
“Does he have no allies he can turn to for help?”
A bark of laughter escaped from Guinevere’s throat. “He does, but that is hardly any better.”
“What do you mean?”
“His only ally that seems even remotely inclined to aid him is King Arthur, and if he does rescue us my father will see me married to him.”
Obviously Guinevere hadn’t heard the rumors of how handsome and loved ‘King Arthur’ was. Feeling slightly offended, Britt said, “And marrying King Arthur would be just as bad as marrying Duke Maleagant?”
“No,” Guinevere said, shifting until she sat on the brim of the fountain. “He’s a great deal younger, and I’m sure he’s not as rotten as Maleagant. He’s also richer, I would have more jewels and clothes if I were to wed him,” Guinevere said.
Just as Britt thought the girl was nothing but a mindless mercenary, Guinevere added, “But the only reason Father wants me to marry Arthur is because of my lands.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“How long have you served us? Don’t you know that when my mother dies, I shall inherit all the lands my Father gained when he married her?”
“I, um, of course know of this. I fail to see what your inheritance has to do with King Arthur,” Britt said.
“Arthur is richer than my father, and he doesn’t need more land holdings. He wants some stupid table, so Father would get to keep my lands,” Guinevere bitterly said. “Father doesn’t care who I marry, so long as he profits the most from the union.”
“And what do you want?”
“Pardon?”
“What would you like to do?”
It was a long time before Guinevere responded. “I just want everything to stay the same,” she whispered. “I want to go on picking flowers, and laugh and talk with my friends, and choose pretty dresses to wear. I don’t want to be a wife yet; least of all to a man I do not love.”
“You do not get to chose whom you marry?”
“Of course not. I am a bargaining chip for my father to use. I will marry whomever he chooses. The only variable is the beauty of the cage I will be locked in.” Guinevere laughed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I suppose it’s because you’re the first person to ever ask.”
“And you have no one to fight on your behalf?” Britt asked. Guinevere was a pretty thing. Surely there was a knight somewhere who would fight for her.
“What do you mean?”
“No knight has pledged himself to serve you?”