you were serious. How can Merlin not be here?” Britt demanded.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, My Lord,” Sir Lancelot said.
“I expect you wouldn’t. Everybody, just stop touching me . I’m serious—in fact I order it!” Britt said, struggling to sit up.
One of the knights firmly pushed her down.
“You don’t know what you’re saying, My Lord. Finally, we can remove the cuirass,” Sir Bedivere said.
“Don’t—STOP!” Britt shouted, panic making her heart thunder in her ears.
The knights wouldn’t need to strip her down to see she wasn’t what she claimed to be. All they would need to do is take off her jerkin. Her body would betray the rest, and all would be lost.
How is Merlin not here? He’s always here when I’m in trouble ! Britt thought, panic making her breath faster.
“Lift him up on three, Lancelot, so we can remove the cuirass. It’s the least you can do,” Sir Bedivere said.
“Don’t you dare!” Britt said, starting to struggle in earnest. She thrashed, but Ywain and Griflet held her tight.
“One.”
“Stop it!” Britt shouted.
“Two.”
“I mean it! Merlin will kill you all!”
“Three.”
When Lancelot lifted Britt up her shoulder was wrenched. She gasped with the new wave of pain and, recognizing the feeling of disconnect from her shoulder, suspected that it really was dislocated.
I’m going to kill Lancelot. I was right—he DOES bring about my downfall , Britt thought before her vision grew hazy and pain claimed her, stealing her conscious.
Still many miles away, it was Merlin’s turn to straighten in his saddle.
Sir Kay raised his eyebrows at the wizard but said nothing.
“Maybe your gut isn’t so far off,” Merlin said, rubbing the back of his neck with a worried frown.
“What is it?”
“Apprehension. Some kind of magical foresight. I feel as if…”
“As if?”
Doom breathed down Merlin’s neck like a murderous beast. “As if my life’s work is about to come crashing down around my ears.
Chapter 5
Revealed
Britt groaned as she came to, consciousness easing into her like an ocean wave crawling up the beach. Her eyes fluttered open, and a moment passed before she remembered the precarious situation she was in. She snapped upright—her arm protesting with the sudden movement.
She still wore her jerkin, but there was no doubt in Britt’s mind that her knights knew. Their faces said it all.
Sir Griflet paced back and forth, shaking his head. “It can’t be,” he muttered.
Ywain couldn’t even look at Britt. His back was to her and his hands were clenched in fists. Tension and anger lined his body, and although he was unmoving, Britt got the distinct feeling he was like volcano, ready to erupt.
Lancelot—the knight Britt cared the least about—seemed to have the most control over himself. He leaned against his dapple gray horse, his eyes narrowed.
Sir Bedivere sat about ten feet away, plopped on the ground as if his legs didn’t have the strength to hold him upright. When he raised his head and met Britt’s gaze, the look of betrayal in his eyes put a knife through Britt’s heart.
They knew.
“Why?” Ywain said. His back was still to Britt, but he seemed to instinctively know she was awake.
Britt hesitated. “I had no choice,” she said.
“You lied to us!” Ywain said, spinning around as if his body were yanked by puppet strings. The young knight’s expression made Britt want to cry. He was angry, but his eyes looked lost and frightened. “Was any of it real? Any of the things you said—were they true?”
“Of course they were,” Britt said, grimacing and holding her wound. It seemed that in their shock, the knights had done nothing with her shoulder wound—not that she blamed them. Besides, Excalibur’s scabbard was keeping her blood in her. “I’m still the same person.”
“No, you’re not,” Sir Bedivere said, his voice quiet.
“This is a nightmare—that’s it! It has to be
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, My Lord,” Sir Lancelot said.
“I expect you wouldn’t. Everybody, just stop touching me . I’m serious—in fact I order it!” Britt said, struggling to sit up.
One of the knights firmly pushed her down.
“You don’t know what you’re saying, My Lord. Finally, we can remove the cuirass,” Sir Bedivere said.
“Don’t—STOP!” Britt shouted, panic making her heart thunder in her ears.
The knights wouldn’t need to strip her down to see she wasn’t what she claimed to be. All they would need to do is take off her jerkin. Her body would betray the rest, and all would be lost.
How is Merlin not here? He’s always here when I’m in trouble ! Britt thought, panic making her breath faster.
“Lift him up on three, Lancelot, so we can remove the cuirass. It’s the least you can do,” Sir Bedivere said.
“Don’t you dare!” Britt said, starting to struggle in earnest. She thrashed, but Ywain and Griflet held her tight.
“One.”
“Stop it!” Britt shouted.
“Two.”
“I mean it! Merlin will kill you all!”
“Three.”
When Lancelot lifted Britt up her shoulder was wrenched. She gasped with the new wave of pain and, recognizing the feeling of disconnect from her shoulder, suspected that it really was dislocated.
I’m going to kill Lancelot. I was right—he DOES bring about my downfall , Britt thought before her vision grew hazy and pain claimed her, stealing her conscious.
Still many miles away, it was Merlin’s turn to straighten in his saddle.
Sir Kay raised his eyebrows at the wizard but said nothing.
“Maybe your gut isn’t so far off,” Merlin said, rubbing the back of his neck with a worried frown.
“What is it?”
“Apprehension. Some kind of magical foresight. I feel as if…”
“As if?”
Doom breathed down Merlin’s neck like a murderous beast. “As if my life’s work is about to come crashing down around my ears.
Chapter 5
Revealed
Britt groaned as she came to, consciousness easing into her like an ocean wave crawling up the beach. Her eyes fluttered open, and a moment passed before she remembered the precarious situation she was in. She snapped upright—her arm protesting with the sudden movement.
She still wore her jerkin, but there was no doubt in Britt’s mind that her knights knew. Their faces said it all.
Sir Griflet paced back and forth, shaking his head. “It can’t be,” he muttered.
Ywain couldn’t even look at Britt. His back was to her and his hands were clenched in fists. Tension and anger lined his body, and although he was unmoving, Britt got the distinct feeling he was like volcano, ready to erupt.
Lancelot—the knight Britt cared the least about—seemed to have the most control over himself. He leaned against his dapple gray horse, his eyes narrowed.
Sir Bedivere sat about ten feet away, plopped on the ground as if his legs didn’t have the strength to hold him upright. When he raised his head and met Britt’s gaze, the look of betrayal in his eyes put a knife through Britt’s heart.
They knew.
“Why?” Ywain said. His back was still to Britt, but he seemed to instinctively know she was awake.
Britt hesitated. “I had no choice,” she said.
“You lied to us!” Ywain said, spinning around as if his body were yanked by puppet strings. The young knight’s expression made Britt want to cry. He was angry, but his eyes looked lost and frightened. “Was any of it real? Any of the things you said—were they true?”
“Of course they were,” Britt said, grimacing and holding her wound. It seemed that in their shock, the knights had done nothing with her shoulder wound—not that she blamed them. Besides, Excalibur’s scabbard was keeping her blood in her. “I’m still the same person.”
“No, you’re not,” Sir Bedivere said, his voice quiet.
“This is a nightmare—that’s it! It has to be
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