Page 61 of The Sword & the Stone

It was hard enough to leave seven hundred years ago, but I’d done it. I managed to lock away the pain for long enough to become the knight I had to be. I could keep it up a while longer.

Galahad's expression softened, understanding flickering in his eyes. "I get it. I just like to give you shit."

We made our way to the bar cart, where decanters of delicious amber liquid and faerie wine awaited us. We both grabbed a glass from the tray and poured a generous amount of wine, ready to let loose for the evening.

"Have you seen yours yet?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.

Galahad's face lit up, a broad grin splitting his bearded face. "I just got back, actually. Roark and Elyan ambushed me at the door, the little shits.”

I chuckled, picturing Galahad's younger brothers. They were notorious troublemakers, even by fae standards. "Sounds about right. I'm surprised they didn't tie you up and leave you there."

They had to be fully grown males now, after seven centuries. Still young compared to us, but old enough to be finding their own way soon. I wondered if either of them were planning on following Galahad’s footsteps and joining up as Seelie Court knights.

Galahad laughed, taking a sip of his wine. The dark liquid stained his lips before his tongue darted out to lick them clean. "Mother would have skinned them alive if they tried. She's missed me too much to let them get away with that."

I hummed in acknowledgment, swirling the wine in my glass. The delicate floral notes mixed with the heady scent of fermented berries, a familiar aroma that brought back countless memories of nights spent with our own kind.

"Did you tell her?" I asked, glancing at Galahad out of the corner of my eye. He knew what I was referring to without me having to spell it out.

Just then, the door opened, and Gawain and Tristan entered. Tristan must have known we’d be here. He knew everything, and it irked me sometimes. I waved them in, pouring them each a drink.

Galahad met my eyes and nodded, his expression growing thoughtful. "I told her. She's thrilled, of course. Wants to meet Arthur as soon as possible."

"Of course she does," I muttered, draining my glass in one swift gulp. The wine burned pleasantly down my throat, a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling in my head. "Everyone wants a piece of the prophesied queen."

Gawain clapped me on the shoulder, his gray eyes glinting with amusement. "Don't be such a sourpuss, Lance. This is a good thing! If Arthur wins over Galahad's mother, she'll have the support of one of the most influential families in the Seelie Court."

I shrugged off his hand, scowling. "And what about the Unseelie Court? You think they'll just welcome her with open arms?" I poured myself another generous glass of wine, the bottle clinking against the rim. "She's walking into a vipers' nest, and we all know it."

Tristan leaned against the wall, his eyes thoughtful as he sipped his wine. "She's faced down worse threats than a few scheming fae nobles."

Tristan, a member of the Unseelie Court himself, stood out as one of the few good ones. Unlike his queen, he was trustworthy and kind. But I had to remind myself not to judge an entire court of fae based on the actions of their ruler.

I scoffed, shaking my head. "It's not her strength that I doubt. It's the depths these bastards will sink to in order to get what they want."

My mind flashed back to the countless times I'd witnessed the cruelty and manipulation of the Unseelie Court firsthand. The games they played, the lives they toyed with like pieces on a chessboard. It made my blood boil just thinking about it.

As if on cue, the only other member of the Unseelie Court graced us with his presence. Percy’s shadows filled the room before he stepped through the door.

Gawain chuckled, the sound rich and deep. "Always so cynical, Lance. Try having a little faith, would you?" He took a long sip of his wine, savoring the taste as he waved Percy over before handing him the rest of the bottle.

“So,” Gawain said as he slammed his glass down on the table. “How delectable do you think Arthur will look tonight?” Hisblack brows wiggled up and down, and I groaned, rolling my eyes. “What? I can’t be the only one looking forward to seeing our queen painted and primped for us.”

I rolled my eyes at Gawain's lecherous grin, but I couldn't deny the flicker of anticipation that sparked in my gut at the thought of seeing Arthur dressed for the Night of the Ancients. The way the fae dressed was far more revealing than anything she would have worn in Albion, and I couldn't resist imagining how her moonlight would look painted with shimmering runes, her curves draped in gossamer and silks that left little to the imagination.

"Try thinking with your brain instead of your cock for once, Gawain," I growled, but there was no real heat behind my words. We were all guilty of letting our thoughts wander in that direction when it came to Arthur, as much as I loathed to admit it.

Percy chuckled, shadows dancing around his fingers as he toyed with the half-empty bottle of wine. "You're one to talk, Lance. I've seen the way you look at her when you think no one's watching."

I scowled, but I couldn't deny the truth. Arthur had a way of getting under my skin, of making me feel things I had long thought buried. It was unsettling, the power she held over me without even realizing it.

Tristan sighed, pushing off the wall to join us by the bar cart. "We're all in the same boat here, lads. There's no point in pretending otherwise."

I drained the last of my wine, the sweet burn doing little to ease the tension coiled in my gut. Tristan's words hung heavy between us, an uncomfortable truth we had all been dancing around for far too long.

"So what do we do about it?" I asked, my voice rough. "We can't all pursue her."

Galahad ran a hand through his fiery locks. "Maybe we should let her decide," he suggested. "Give her the choice, and respect whatever she chooses."

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