Page 60 of The Sword & the Stone

"Or she could banish him from the Round Table for being a lovesick fool," Elyan teased, dodging the pillow I tossed at his head.

"Boys, behave," Mother chided, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. I nearly rolled my eyes at the wordboys.There were no boys left in this house, just three grown fae males who drove their mother crazy. "This is serious." She turned back to me, her expression thoughtful. "Galahad, if this woman doesn’t love you, then there’s something wrong with her brain."

I threw my head back and laughed; the sound echoing through the cozy room. "I dare you to say that to her face, Mother. We’d all pay good coin to see you two go head to head."

The image of my petite mother squaring off against Arthur was too amusing to ignore. While my mother was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, Arthur's fiery spirit and sharp tongue were unmatched.

"Perhaps I will," Mother said with a grin, her eyes glinting like polished emeralds in the firelight. "Someone needs to knocksome sense into the girl if she's too blind to see what a catch my son is."

Warmth bloomed in my chest at her words.

We stayed in the sitting room for the next couple of hours as I filled her in on what I’d been up to for the last seven centuries. I told her of the kings I’d escorted on quests for the Grail, of the battles I’d fought in on behalf of the Pendragons. I told her about Arthur, and Mordred and Uther. It felt nice to have a listening ear who only wanted the best for me.

As much as I longed to stay cocooned in the comfort of my childhood home, duty called. The celebrations at the castle would be starting within the hour. I rose from the sofa, reluctantly pulling away from the embrace of my mother's arm.

"I should head back," I said, my tone tinged with regret. "The feast will be starting soon, and Arthur is new to all of this."

"Of course," Mother said, rising gracefully to her feet. She reached out, her fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead with a tender touch. "But promise me you'll visit again soon. And bring this queen of yours next time. I'd very much like to meet the woman who's stolen my son's heart."

Nodding, a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. "I will. I promise." Then I turned to my brothers, who had also risen from their seats. "Try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone. And don’t embarrass mother."

Roark scoffed, a grin splitting his handsome face. "Us? Trouble?Never."

Elyan snickered, punching Roark playfully in the arm. "We're the very picture of innocence and propriety, dear brother."

I shook my head, chuckling under my breath as I made my way to the door. "Why do I find that hard to believe? I have no doubt I’ll be seeing both of you at some point tonight at the feasts."

My mother threw her arms up in surrender and left the room, while my brothers didn’t bother denying the truth. They were both unmated fae males, and the Night of the Ancients was a revelry that would go unmatched. It was a night of fucking, drinking, and forgetting propriety for a while.

With a final wave and a promise to return soon, I stepped out into the twilight, the warmth of my family's love wrapped around me like a familiar cloak. As I made my way back to the castle, my thoughts turned to Arthur, wondering if maybe my mother was right and I should just tell her how I felt.

Chapter Twenty-Two

ARTHUR

I stoodbefore the ornate mirror in my old chambers, preserved for me all these years. With a critical eye, I studied my reflection, feeling strange in the fashions of Avalon rather than the stiff uniform of a knight of Camelot.

The silken black pants hung low on my hips, the material loose and airy. My chest was bare, the runes painted across my skin glinting in the candlelight. It was a traditional way to dress for the Night of the Ancients, but I couldn't help feeling exposed after spending centuries in Albion, where humans tended to be a bit more conservative.

It felt fucking good to be back where I belonged. Back with my people, and a part of me wanted to say fuck it, and never return to Albion.

My door clicked open, and Galahad poked his head into the room, a grin spreading across his face as he took in my appearance. "Well, don't you look festive," he teased, stepping fully into the chamber.

He was dressed similarly, though his runes were silver instead of gold. His red beard was twisted into various braids with glass beads interwoven in the strands.

I grunted in response, turning back to the mirror. "Let's just get this over with."

"Oh come on, Lance. It's a celebration! Try enjoying yourself for once. Surely evenyoucan crack a smile for one night."

I shot him a sidelong glance, my lips twitching despite myself.

He snorted, shaking his head. "You're hopeless, brother." His expression softened, growing thoughtful as he studied me. "Have you seen your family yet?"

I stiffened, a dull ache blooming in my chest. "No," I said shortly, turning away from the mirror. "And I don't plan to. Not until this quest is done."

Galahad frowned. "But why? Your sisters miss you. And you've missed them, even if you're too stubborn to admit it."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. The clean golden strands slipped through my fingers like silk. "A bit longer won’t make a difference," I said quietly, my voice rough. "To see them now, only to leave again so soon...it would be too painful. For all of us."

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