Page 9 of The Sword & the Stone

Double doors led out onto a wide balcony overlooking the palace gardens, the scent of jasmine and roses wafting in on the breeze. The other doors led to the bedchamber, the dressing room, the study, and a small library. Each was more grand than the last, draped in silks and velvets, glittering with gilt and precious gems.

The bed was a vast expanse of carved wood, and the posts were twined with climbing roses wrought in gold. The coverlet was cloth-of-gold, scattered with seed pearls and glinting with tiny mirrors.

"This...this is too much," I murmured, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. "I don't belong here. I'm not..."

"You’re the chosen one," the first woman said firmly, her eyes kind. "This is exactly where you belong. Now come, it’s time to get you cleaned up."

I peered down at myself and grimaced. I would have smelled my sleeve to see just how atrociously I’d appeared before the king, but I could smell the metallic, muddy reek from here. Maybe a bath was a good idea.

They led me into an adjoining chamber, where a large copper tub sat steaming before another roaring fire. The scent of lavender and rosemary wafted from the water. The women helped me undress, their hands gentle as they eased me into the bath.

I couldn't remember the last time I had been truly clean. As the women scrubbed me gently with soft cloths and fragrant soaps, I felt the grime of the city streets slowly melt away. They washed my hair with something that smelled of honey and summer rain, their fingers massaging my scalp until I thought I might drift off right there in the steaming water.

When at last they were done, my skin was pink and glowing, my hair a gleaming curtain of chestnut curls. They wrapped me in a robe of soft silk and led me back into the bedchamber.

There, laid out on the bed, was an array of clothing the likes of which I had never seen. Tunics of the finest linen, jerkins of supple leather, breeches cut from butter-soft doeskin. Boots of tooled leather, tall and sleek, polished to a shine.

Reaching out to touch them, I gaped at the feel of such finery beneath my fingertips, then I paused, frowning. No gowns... One of the women caught my eye and gave me a cheeky wink. My lips tugged up in response, meeting her smirk.

How did she know I was going to request men’s style clothing? Maybe she was a sorcerer. Could she read my mind?I shuddered at the thought.

With nimble fingers, the women helped me dress in men's attire, lacing, buttoning, and buckling. Softer than anything I had ever worn, the linen tunic felt luxurious against my skin. Fitting like a second skin, the leather jerkin was both supple and sturdy, molding to the contours of my body.

I stood before the full-length mirror, barely able to recognize the woman staring back at me. Gone was the scrawny waif with hollow cheeks and haunted eyes. In her place stood a scrawny waif wrapped in a fancy costume. I looked good, but ultimately confused.

One of the women stepped forward, a slim circlet of silver in her hands. "A gift, my lady. From the king himself." She settled iton my brow, the metal cool and heavy against my skin. I touched it, feeling the intricate knotwork beneath my fingertips.

A knock sounded at the door, and a young page poked his head in, his eyes widening as he took in my transformation. "My lady," he stammered. "The king summons you to the Round Table. Your knights are waiting to meet you.”

Your knights.

I had knights.

I followed the page through the twisting corridors of the castle, my heart pounding like a drum. The weight of Excalibur at my hip was a constant reminder of the fact that I really could die in the coming days if I wasn’t careful.

We emerged into a large vaulted chamber, its walls lined with soaring stained glass windows that cast dappled patterns of light across the flagstones. At the heart of the room stood a massive table, perfectly round, hewn from a single slab of stone. And around that table, seated in high-backed chairs carved with dragons and krakens, were the legendary Knights of the Round Table.

They rose as I entered, their faces a mix of curiosity and wariness. I recognized Lancelot, his shoulder-length golden hair gleaming in the light from the windows. He was the knight who commanded fire from his fingertips. That fire glowed in his golden eyes.

Beside him was Percival, the dark-haired, dark-eyed shadow knight, who could bend the darkness to his will. Damn, he was easy on the eyes. They all were, actually. But that was to be expected of fae males.

Galahad, the knight who spoke to creatures and whispered to the land, with flame red hair and a thick warrior-like beard and muscles on muscles, sat grinning at me, his brown eyes skimming up and down my body. He was a massive man, barely fitting in the chair.

Tristan sat next to him—the seer with long snow white hair that flowed like silk down his back, skin the color of the midnight sky, and eyes so silver they were almost colorless. He was so beautiful it was almost painful to look at him—both masculine and pretty at the same time.

Then there was Gawain, the ice wielder, with skin the color of fresh clay, black locks entwined with silver beads that reached his shoulders, held back with a small leather band, and gray eyes dancing with mischief. He had a thick black beard, with small braids woven through. He was nearly as large as Galahad, and just as handsome as the rest.

I’d grown up listening to stories about these knights and their adventures, but I’d only ever seen them from a distance. Never in my life would I have imagined I’d be standing here in front of the Round Table itself, with their eyes pinned on me.

"Knights of the Round Table—" Uther's voice rang out, cutting through the silence. I looked up, watching as Uther stepped out onto a balcony that overlooked the room. "I present to you, your new champion. Arthur, first of her name.”

Hearing it out loud was surreal, and again, I nearly laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. First of her name…But what was my name? Arthur wasn’t my given name, and I’d forgotten my family name a long time ago.

I expected the king to descend and join us, but to my shock, Uther turned and left the room, the door slamming behind him. The room felt heavy and still. I was trapped with five powerful fae warriors and no way to escape, even if I tried. Not that I planned on running. I didn’t. I fully intended to see this through to the bitter end.

I lifted my chin, meeting their eyes squarely. I wouldn’t cower before them, would not give them the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

"I know what you're thinking," I said. “You're wondering if this is some kind of trick."

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