Free Camelot & Vine by Petrea Burchard Page B

was tall, but because of his presence.
    The dog backed off, leaving me
teetering.
    “Release her,” the king said calmly. “Cai,
send for water.”
    The guards let go of my arms. Gareth
steadied me with a gentle touch on my elbow, making sure I could
stand on my own before he moved aside.
    Gareth needn’t have worried. King Arthur
stepped forward and took my hands in his, giving me an extra point
on which to balance. Though he had gripped my hands in the bloody
forest, this gentler gesture shocked me in our more civilized
surroundings. Was there a convention I was expected to follow?
Should I bow or curtsey? Afraid to meet his eyes I looked at my
red-polished, chipped nails enfolded in his rough palms.
    His grip warm and sure, the king led me to
the bench near the doorway, where Caius had stationed himself, and
helped me to sit. Movement aggravated my migraine. I tilted my head
back, allowing the cool wood of the wall to support it. Opposite
me, Lancelot leaned, languid, in the corner. I thought he was
watching me but in the dimness I couldn’t be sure.
    Having placed me, the king turned to his
men. I would have to wait to know my fate. “Bedwyr, your
report.”
    Bedwyr stepped forward. “About a dozen
escaped us, Sire.”
    “We’ll return for the stragglers. How many
did we kill?”
    “Seventeen, Sire, with Lancelot’s help.”
    “Our casualties?”
    “No serious injuries among the survivors,
Sire,” said Bedwyr. “Three dead.”
    The king’s forehead clamped down over his
brow. “Their names,” he demanded.
    Bedwyr seemed to be holding his breath.
“Dead are Tore, Fergus and...Dynadan, Sire.”
    I felt the king’s weight tip the bench
forward when he sat. “Failure,” he said.
    The dog circled, settling at his master’s
feet and closing his silver eyes with a sigh. The king looked
around the room, visiting each man with his eyes. “There’s a spy
among us.”
    “No, Sire!” Outraged, Medraut placed his
hands on his hips. His resemblance to his father showed in the
smooth but still square angle of his jaw.
    “It can’t be!” I thought Sagramore’s chin
quivered.
    Lancelot stopped leaning and stood up, at
last interested in the proceedings.
    “You were all fighting for your lives, as
was I,” said the king, “but they knew me, I’m sure of it, either by
my dress or my face. They sent their strongest warriors and
separated me from the rest of you. I killed two men but was
overpowered by the third. I couldn’t see how to save myself.” He
turned, and I felt his eyes on me. “Then help came from the sky. An
angel saved my life.”
    Cloth shifted against skin and leather slid
across wood as all turned their eyes to me. Stunned, I tried to
think back: hurtle through space, see the grizzled man, bump
into a hard thing, fall.
    “How did she save you, Sire?” asked
Bedwyr.
    “She flew at me with fury in her eyes. With
great might she forced the Saxon upon my sword.” King Arthur gazed
at me in wonder. “I am forever in your debt.”
    The fury in my eyes had been terror. The
shadow I’d bumped into with my head had been a man—a man I’d
killed. King Arthur was forever in my debt. He probably wasn’t
going to kill me.
    A servant appeared with a cup of water and
offered it to me.
    “Thanks,” I whispered. I tried to calm my
breathing so I could drink.
    “Tell me your name, mistress,” said the
king.
    I swallowed. “Casey.”
    A soft chuckle rose up among the men.
Someone said, “Oh no,” and someone else said, “It’s the gallows,
then.” The king blinked and suppressed a fatherly grin.
    Caius bent down from his considerable height
to whisper, “You will address the king as ‘your majesty.’”
    “Oh. I’m sorry. It’s Casey, your majesty.”
My voice sounded timid, not like a furious, avenging angel.
    “Kay-see,” the king tried it out on his
lips. “An unusual name. You are most welcome here, Casey. Have my
men ill-treated you?”
    They just wanted to go home and get