Free The King's Leash (The Fay Morgan Chronicles Book 7) by Katherine Sparrow

It is good to have you back,” I said, and laid a hand on top of his. “But this time is far different from Camelot.” I made a mental note to speak to him on democracies, gender, and power at some later date when we had more time. “Enough talk. We need to make a plan about this realm door. Are there specific spells we should make or gather, Merlin, that will help us?”
    Merlin shook his head. “We will have to play it by ear. Doors are powerful and unique. I know of nothing in particular that would work against this one.”
    “Well, at least we know what it is now. We will bring Lila to close it. I will ask her to use all her powers against it,” I said.
    “And Adam.” Merlin held up both hands. “No arguments. We need all the power we can gather. He has been given some interesting weapons.”
    I blinked, and the hands were on me again. The teeth and lips and mouths surrounded me. “Yes,” I said. “We'll take him. And brother, you will stay at my store and serve as back-up, should all else fail.”
    Arthur smirked. “You aren't going to get rid of me quite that easily, Morgan.”
    “In your day, you were important, but a man without magic or supernatural ability will be a liability against the Gray,” I said.
    “I have commanded armies. I have fought and won a hundred battles.” His gaze went to Merlin.
    Merlin nodded and handed him his infinity bag.
    No one, not even I, ever got to hold that bag.
    “I will be coming with you,” my brother said as he reached in and pulled out something long and gleaming.
    My breath caught in my throat.
    Excalibur.
----
    The sword had appeared up in a green glen near Camelot when Arthur was fifteen. With it came a wandering bard who said the sword held with a blessing and a curse: whosoever wielded the sword would be a great ruler during a time of great strife. While some later claimed that Merlin had made it and placed it there, that was untrue. None ever discovered how it had arrived near Camelot nor who had made it.
    My father, Uther Pendragon, went to see it, and told all that he had not tried to remove it from the stone, for he was already a great king. Which I and many others took to mean that he had tried and failed.
    Uther decided he should make a tourney for it. All the better to bring in the local lords for wine and celebration in the lean days of spring when uprisings were most likely to occur.
    The tourney was called with the prize the sword itself, though there would be the usual jousting and mock battles with lesser prizes as well. My sisters started planning their gowns and my bastard half-brothers began dragging boulder-sized rocks around the courtyard.
    Me?
    I put on my blackest gown and spent the evening drinking thistle tea to keep me awake and sharp. Once the castle grew quiet and the only ones awake were the cold and half-asleep wall watchers, I went to the stables. I found my horse—not mine, not truly, for the bastard daughter did not have her own horse—but Sidan was mine for the hours I had spent brushing burs out of her uncut mane. Mine for pulling rocks from her hooves and taking her out on long runs, even on the bitterest days of winter.
    Sidan nickered when I awoke her, and pushed her nose into my hand. I did not disappoint, and fed her a withered apple before I readied her to ride.
    The night gatekeeper gave me a long look as I led Sidan to the gate. “Open the side, Aled,” I commanded.
    “Is this wise, Morgan? There is much in the world that—”
    “Open it, else I speak to my father about your mead pilfering.”
    The old man sighed and got to his feet. He unbolted the small gate and opened it just wide enough for one horse and a girl to slip through. “Same as it ever was, the young are foolish,” he growled.
    And foolishly, I set off to find the sword.
    The night was dark and foggy, and I got lost a number of times before I found the path, newly made and freshly trampled. It led me to the glen where a stone sat with a sword