Page 8 of The Sword & the Stone

Slowly, I lifted my eyes. "With respect, Your Majesty. I might be awoman, but I’m far frommere.”

I had to pretend. At least until I was out of the room. Until I was alone and safe. I had to pretend that I was stronger than I was. That I was more than I was.

The guards in the room shuffled on their feet, and a low murmur filled the room, silenced only by Uther’s sharp gaze. I met that gaze squarely, refusing to flinch or look away. Let him see me, all of me. The thief and the vagrant, the lost orphan girl and the woman I wasn’t sure I could become. The woman Excalibur had seen fit to choose above all others.

"Bold words," Uther said at last, a hint of grudging respect in his voice. "But words are wind, child. It is actions that will prove your worth in the end." He strode around me in a wide circle. “You will perform a quest. Let it be theultimate test.If you live, and return to me alive, then you, my dear, are truly my rightful heir, and will ascend the throne to be hailed High Queen.”

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry as dust. A quest. Of course there would be a quest. Some impossible task to prove my worth, my right to wield this sacred blade.

"What would you have me do, Your Majesty?" I asked, proud of the steadiness of my voice.

High Queen. Was this really happening?I wanted to laugh, but I had a feeling Uther wouldn’t appreciate that very much.

"In the heart of the Wandering Wood—" His eyes lost focus as he stared at something over my head, "there lies an ancient stone temple. A place of power, created by the old gods themselves. At its center stands an altar, and upon that altar, a golden chalice. The Holy Grail."

A murmur rippled through the assembled knights. I felt my heart stutter a beat. The Holy Grail. The myth of all myths, said to grant eternal life to any who drank from it. Men had searched for centuries and never found even a whisper of its whereabouts, or the path to the mythical Wandering Wood in the first place.

"Bring me the Grail. Prove yourself worthy of Excalibur and the crown. Do it and they both shall be yours."

What was the catch? Because there was always a damn catch.

I looked to Lancelot and to the knights flanking him. Their faces were unreadable still, but I sensed the weight of their expectations, their doubts. They didn't believe I could do it. Didn't believe in me. I wasn’t sure I even blamed them.

“What are the terms?” I asked sharply. Another murmur went through the room at my lack of formality.

Uther nodded towards Lancelot. “You and your knights will complete this quest together, but it will be you and only you who will capture the Grail. If you fail, then your life is forfeit.”

I released a slow breath, my mind racing. The terms were harsh—unforgiving even. But what choice did I have? If I refused the quest, I would be branded a coward, unworthy of the sword at my hip. And more than that, I would never know if Excalibur had truly chosen rightly. If there was more to me than the thief and the vagrant.

I didn’t want this. Any of it. There were stories told by peasants of lowly men thrust up from obscurity, becoming a great hero who defied the odds. But I wasn’t one of those men.

With all eyes on me, I had to make a decision. There was no time to deliberate. No time to weigh the odds. The king waited, but he wasn’t known for being patient.

"I accept," I said finally, though it really wasn’t a choice. "I’ll bring you this Holy Grail, or-or I’ll die in the attempt I suppose."

The odds of that eventuality were staggeringly high. It felt like someone else was talking in my place. As if I were merely a passenger in my own body. A small part of me considered that this might be a dream, and any minute now, Merlin would pour cold water on my face, jolting me from sleep in the ramshackle old barn.

Uther nodded, satisfaction glinting in his wintry eyes. "So be it. You have until the next full moon to complete your quest. Go now, and may the gods watch over you, Arthur."

I bowed my head, fist pressed to my heart in the gesture of fealty in the same way I’d seen the knights move. Then I turned on my heel and strode from the hall. Whispers followed me, and I ignored the eyes licking over my mud-covered form. Judging me.

In the entrance hall just outside of the main throne room, a group of women were waiting for me, clad in matching golden dresses with red sashes. They curtsied as one, skirts pooling on the flagstones.

"My lady," the foremost said, her voice sweet and welcoming. "We’re here to escort you to your chambers, to prepare for your quest."

I blinked. "My chambers?"

"But of course, my lady," another said, her smile gentle. "As the chosen wielder of Excalibur, you are now heir apparent to the throne. Your chambers await you in the royal wing."

My head spun. Chambers in the royal wing, as if I were a princess out of a storybook. It seemed too fantastical to be real.

"Please, come with us." The first woman beckoned me forward.

In a daze, I allowed them to lead me through a labyrinth of corridors, each more grand than the last. Soaring stone arches, intricate tapestries, gilded chandeliers dripping with crystal droplets. Everywhere, the dragon of Camelot reared in gold, crimson, and emerald green.

At last, we stopped before a massive oaken door, banded with wrought iron scrollwork. The women pushed it open to reveal a suite of rooms. A vast receiving room featured a vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes of dragons and knights.Tapestries depicting sea monsters and pirate ships hung on the walls.

A massive fireplace dominated one wall, the mantle carved with twining vines and delicate flowers. Before it, a plush rug in deep crimson so thick my feet sank into it with each step. The furniture was all carved of gleaming mahogany—a long dining table that could easily seat twenty, a sideboard laden with silver platters and crystal decanters, plump armchairs and settees upholstered in gold brocade.

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