“You have no idea,” Tedros murmured, thinking of Sophie.
“The difference is that you spent your whole life knowing you would be king, while Arthur was an ordinary boy who accidentally found himself the most powerful ruler in the Woods. One morning he’d gone out feverishly seeking a new sword for his master—Arthur had been punished for losing the old one—and he stumbled upon Excalibur, trapped in an anvil in the village square. He pulled the sword easily, without a second thought, intending to return it to the stone at a later date. What he didn’t know was that Excalibur had been placed in that stone by the Lady of the Lake to settle the question of who would rule Camelot after a violent period of chaos and anarchy. Thousands had come from all over the Woods to try their hand at the sword before Arthur freed it from the stone without any knowledge of the consequences. So when he sat for this portrait, he was still very much a scared young boy. But also sensitive and whip smart. It’s why Merlin took so strongly to him. As did I. Perhaps it’s the only area where the wizard and I ever agreed.”
Tedros looked back at his father’s face, so lost and overwhelmed . . . and for a moment, it felt like Tedros was looking at his own. Unnerved, he shifted to another painting: this one of his mother and Arthur playing with their baby son, while a young, dark-haired female stood in the shadows. His father was holding the baby up in the air as his mother tickled the boy’s stomach. Tedros found himself smiling before he remembered everything that happened between his parents once that baby grew up.
“Did your father really never mention my name to you?” Lady Gremlaine asked.
“Not even once.”
Lady Gremlaine took this in with a wry grin. “Like father, like son.”
Tedros furrowed, not understanding.
“When Agatha was pressing to see you, I pointed out that you too never mentioned her name to me. Not even once,” said Lady Gremlaine. “Taking the women in your life for granted seems a shared trait.”
“Well, Agatha and I are very different from you and my father, obviously,” Tedros snorted. “How long did you even know him?”
His steward paused before answering. “Arthur and I grew up together. I’m not so much older than he was. We met because I was a housemaid to Sir Ector, Arthur’s master, when Arthur was brought from the orphanage. Arthur and I soon became friends, for we were both treated quite poorly as children. So when he was crowned and needed a steward, he brought me to Camelot even though I was hardly capable of managing a king. But somehow we muddled through together, bucking his Council of Advisors and forging our own path, until he went off to school. I almost felt like his queen. . . .” Lady Gremlaine seemed off in another land now. “I remained his steward until after you were born. See, that’s me right there.”
She was looking at the painting of Arthur and Guinevere with baby Tedros.
Tedros stared closer at the young female in the corner, with wild black hair, nut-brown skin, and deep red lips.
“But—but—you were beautiful,” Tedros blurted.
Lady Gremlaine burst into laughter. “Don’t act so surprised!”
It was the first time he’d ever heard her laugh.
“I loved being with your father,” she said, smiling at the painting. “I only wish I’d been here to help him raise his child. Perhaps you would have trusted me more if you’d known me the way he did.”
Tedros peered at her. “So why did he let my mother fire you?”
Lady Gremlaine’s smile vanished, her eyes still on the painting. “When it comes to women, men can be quite weak.” She turned to him, a chill settling in. “In any case, when she returns, you’ll no longer have use for me. Your mother will make sure of that.”
“Well, I’m the king, not her,” said Tedros. “And though I hate to admit it, I need your help like you helped Dad when he first started. Especially with Agatha gone now. My mother will respect my wishes.”
“Your father promised the same thing once,” Lady Gremlaine returned. “But when the time came to stand up to his wife, he stayed silent. I left the castle without him even noticing.”
“I’m not like my father,” Tedros said. “For worse and for better.”
“And yet you break the same promises and tell the same white lies,” said Lady Gremlaine.
The words hit Tedros hard.
He looked down at the Camelot shield on the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his steward’s shoes inch closer. He could smell her powdered rose perfume.
“You know why I’ve been so harsh with you and Agatha?” Lady Gremlaine said quietly.
Tedros lifted his head.
“You reminded me of Arthur and Guinevere when he brought her here from school,” she confessed. “We were all so na?ve then, blinded by youth. We had no idea of what was to come. And then all these years later, to be steward to his son and his new princess . . . perhaps I let old feelings get the best of me.”
Tedros felt a twinge of guilt; this wasn’t the frigid dragon lady that he and Agatha had made her out to be. She was a real human with real emotions.
“I’ll stand up for you. No matter what my mother says,” Tedros vowed. “You have my word.”
His steward searched his face. Slowly her pose softened as if she saw she could trust him even if he didn’t trust her.
“I’m sorry,” said Tedros.
“It was a long time ago,” Lady Gremlaine sighed.
“No, I mean for being so rude when you came to find me. You were trying to take me to our Treasury meeting. You were doing your job.”
Lady Gremlaine’s face clouded.
“What is it?” Tedros asked.
“That wasn’t the only reason I was trying to find you,” she said.
From her pocket, she pulled a folded piece of newsprint. When he took it, her skin was clammy.
Tedros opened it.
It was a clipping from the Camelot Courier.
DECEASED: CHADDICK OF FOXWOOD
LOVING SON and brother and fourth-year student in the School for Good. While on a quest to serve King Tedros of Camelot, Chaddick was killed on Avalon Island, as reported by an unnamed mongoose. He was 16 years of age and is survived by his mother, father, and two brothers, aged 12 and 17.
“Professor Dovey contacted me this morning through her crystal ball,” said Lady Gremlaine hastily. “She’s despondent that the Courier printed it without contacting her first. She wanted to tell you in person, but I said I would handle it—”
Tedros buckled. “But . . . but how . . .”
“I pressed her, but she wouldn’t give details—”
“Wouldn’t give details? My best friend’s dead and Agatha’s gone and so is everyone else and the dumb bat won’t give details!” Tedros cried, grabbing and kicking at the wall. Frames fell around him, cracking against the floor. “He didn’t send me a note. . . . He shouldn’t have even been in Avalon. . . . I—I—I don’t understand—”
Lady Gremlaine touched him. Tedros fell into her, panting softly. He stayed in her arms a long time.
“He was my friend,” Tedros rasped.
“And he always will be,” Lady Gremlaine said.