Page 10 of The Sword & the Stone

What was I doing speaking to the Knights of the Round Table this way?It would take less than a breath for Percival to send his shadows to silence me for good. But I had a suspicion that this was a test in itself. To see how the future queen handled herself in a room full of men.

I drew the sword from its new sheath in a whisper of steel, the blade shimmering in the dappled light of the candles. The knights' eyes widened, a few hands going instinctively to the hilts of their own swords.

“But unfortunately for you lot, I never back down from a challenge. I’ve been told it’s one of my most annoying traits.” My lips pulled into a grin, and I could have sworn Gawain smirked. My eyes bounced between them, one by one.

Lancelot stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. "You may have drawn the sword, but that does not make you worthy of it yet.”

"You're right. Drawing the sword doesn't make me worthy. But neither does being born with a cock between your legs."

A few of the knights shifted on their feet, exchanging glances. Both Gawain and Galahad were outright grinning now, and there was a glimmer of amusement in Tristan’s eyes.

"Worthiness is proven through deeds, not words," I continued, sheathing Excalibur with a decisive snap. "And that's exactly what I intend to do. If King Uther wants the damned Holy Grail, then I’ll go get it for him.”

I was saying all the right things, I hoped. I really hoped and prayed I was.

"And how do you propose to do that?" Lancelot asked, arching a golden brow.

"That, my surly golden friend," I said, perching a hand on my hip and pointing a finger his way, “is what I need to figure out.”

He scoffed, sitting back in his chair. “I should have known.”

I shot him a flat look. "Just five hours ago, I was fighting off mercenaries in a rundown barn after ditching a drink tab, with two silver coins to rub together and only one friend in the world. So forgive me for not having an elaborate plan for finding the Holy Grail ready to go." I gestured to the Round Table. "Shall we sit and discuss this like civilized folk? Or would you prefer to keep posturing?"

Lancelot's jaw tightened, but after a moment, he inclined his head. "As you wish, my lady." There was a hint of mocking in the title, but I let it slide.

The knights took their seats around the table, each moving with the grace and power of the fae. I settled into the grandest chair, the one directly opposite Uther's vacant seat. Lancelot sat to my right, Gawain to my left. The others arranged themselves in the remaining chairs, all eyes fixed on me.

"Right then." Leaning forward. I braced my elbows on the table. "The Wandering Wood. What do we know about it? It’s in Avalon, if the stories are true, right?"

Lancelot held up a hand. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Before you can even think of entering Avalon, you’ll have to pass a series of trials in Albion first. Each trial will lead you to the next, getting harder as they go.”

“The trials are designed to test every aspect of a would-be ruler. Strength, courage, wisdom, virtue. Only the worthy will be able to pass through to the Wandering Wood,” Tristan added, speaking for the first time. His voice was melodic and deeper than expected.

"Sounds delightful," I drawled with a sigh. "I don't suppose any of you strapping lads would care to offer some advice? Seeing as you're all so very ancient and wise."

Gawain barked a laugh, his gray eyes dancing. "Careful, little faerie. Some of us are older than the very stones of this castle. I'd wager we've forgotten more than you'll ever know."

I shot him a small grin, liking him already. "Ah, but the key word there is 'forgotten'. Meanwhile, my mind is as sharp as Lancelot's cheekbones."

Lancelot sputtered, his golden skin taking on a distinct flush. Even Percival, silent and watchful but brooding, cracked a smile.

"In all seriousness, though. I’d really appreciate any wisdom you could share. The fates think I'm the 'chosen one,' but honestly, this whole thing feels way over my head. I've neverquestedanything more important than my next meal."

Percival leaned forward, shadows seeming to cling to him like a second skin. "The trials will test you in ways you can't possibly prepare for. They're unpredictable. What worked for one ruler may kill the next one."

"Well, that's reassuring."

Galahad stroked his beard thoughtfully. "The key is to trust your instincts. Excalibur chose you for a reason. The sword doesn’t make mistakes. It knows what it wants from its wielder, and what you can do."

"Easier said than done. My instincts are more attuned to picking pockets than passing divine tests." I was good at being unseen and unheard, but something told me this quest would be quite the opposite of that.

Gawain leaned back in his chair, propping his booted feet up on the table. "Then you'd best start honing some new instincts. The trials won't care about your sordid past."

I shot him a withering look. "Thank you, Sir Obvious. Any other dazzling insights you'd like to share?"

He just grinned, completely unrepentant, and opened his mouth, probably to say something idiotic.

Lancelot cut him off. "You’re the first to search for the Holy Grail while also wielding Excalibur. Before that, it was only young kings with delusions of grandeur. I’m afraid we mightallbe out of our depth with what to expect this time around. Whatwecantell you is that the first trial will appear to you when you’re least expecting it. A clue should present itself, but you won’t know until it’s staring you in the face. We’ll travel to the Kingswood to start with, and from there, Excalibur’s magic will take hold.”

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