CHAPTER FORTY-THREE #2
"I can see how desperately you need to remain here," I observed, satisfaction warming my chest like fine wine.
"Which means you'll do exactly as I say.
" I stepped back, giving her space to fully absorb the trap that had closed around her.
"Until midnight tomorrow. Come to my chambers as your true self—I want the woman, not the illusion. "
"You say that, but how do you know you would even be attracted to me? You've never seen me in my true form."
I snickered. "You make a beautiful man—beautiful enough that you have turned Lancelot into a bumbling fool. I can only imagine how much more lovely you are as a woman."
She frowned. "If I do as you say, you won't go to Arthur?"
I nodded. "Do as I ask, and you won't have to worry about Arthur. He won't hear of this from me, so long as I get what I want."
As I turned to leave, her voice stopped me—quieter now but with unexpected steel threading through the softness.
"Why are you doing this?" I turned around to face her and allowed her to continue. "You could report me directly to Arthur, gain his favor for uncovering someone you consider to be a spy." She paused. "Why blackmail me instead?"
The question deserved consideration, if only because it revealed something about how she perceived power and loyalty. I turned back slowly, studying her with genuine curiosity.
"You assume Arthur's approval holds value for me?"
She shrugged. "You're his foster brother. It follows that you should be one of his closest advisors."
Laughter erupted from my throat—short, bitter, devoid of any warmth. "I'm his shadow, girl. The dark necessity he tolerates but never celebrates. The one who handles what his precious honor won't allow him to touch."
The words revealed more than I'd intended, but they served a tactical purpose as well—establishing our shared position as outsiders to Arthur's inner circle despite our proximity to it.
"I have no love for Arthur," I continued, decades of accumulated resentment giving weight to each word. "And I must admit, I find it deliciously fitting that one of his most promising new knights is actually a woman in disguise. The great King Arthur, fooled by what he refuses to see as possible."
Understanding dawned in her eyes—the realization that my motivation extended beyond mere physical desire into something more complex and personally vindictive.
Curiosity stirred within me, genuine and strategic in equal measure.
"Why would you risk everything to pose as a knight?
" I took a deliberate step closer to her, watching how she controlled her instinct to retreat.
Her deception fascinated me—not just the audacity of it, but the skill with which she'd maintained it in a court where men like Arthur and Lancelot missed nothing.
A woman infiltrating the most sacred brotherhood in Camelot spoke of either profound desperation or calculated ambition. Perhaps both. Either way, the knowledge of her true nature was a blade I could wield when the moment was right.
"I possess advanced magic and wish only to serve my king," she responded, the half-truth as obvious to my trained perceptions as a crack in glass.
I laughed again, this time with genuine amusement. "A touching sentiment. Utterly false, but touching nonetheless." I moved toward the corridor, already planning how to best exploit this newfound advantage. "Whatever your true purpose, from now on, you'll be serving me."
As I walked away, satisfaction spread through my chest like warmth from a hearth fire.
This discovery offered far more than immediate gratification—it represented strategic potential that could reshape my position in Camelot entirely.
Could it be the path to my sitting on the king's throne? Perhaps.
My mind automatically began cataloging possibilities with the same methodical precision I applied to everything.
If this impostor proved to be Merlin's agent, her knowledge of Annwyn's defenses would be invaluable intelligence—perhaps I could play Arthur and Merlin against one another. Wouldn't that be amusing?
Or perhaps she was a pawn in the schemes of Carlisle and his Northern Rebellion, a puppet dancing to the tune of those who sought to undermine Camelot's authority from within.
If she served some other master, discovering their identity could forge new alliances that would benefit my standing.
And if she had spoken the truth—that she wanted only to serve her king with her magic—something unlikely but possible—her skills could be turned to serve my own purposes.
Every angle by which I judged it, I came out the winner.
But the most delicious aspect was how this situation validated my long-held conviction: Arthur's rigid adherence to tradition created blind spots that more flexible minds could exploit.
His insistence that women could not be knights had allowed this infiltration to succeed precisely because the possibility of a female knight remained inconceivable to his limited imagination.
As I reached my chambers, I allowed myself a rare moment of unbridled satisfaction. While Arthur would sleep this night in his ignorant security, I would sleep more securely, knowing I had discovered a weapon with multiple edges—one I could wield in whatever manner best served my growing ambitions.
As to why I had not commanded Lioran to visit this evening?
I was tired. And now I had something to look forward to.
Tomorrow night would bring immediate pleasures, certainly.
But as I settled into my chair and poured myself a goblet of wine, I realized the long-term strategic advantages might prove far more valuable than mere physical gratification.
The game was changing, and for once, I held cards that Arthur didn't even know existed.
-GUIN-
I stumbled into my chamber and closed the door behind me, trying to catch my breath.
My chest heaved. The walls seemed to close in on me, pressing like stone hands around my ribs. The floor swayed underfoot, cold and indifferent as panic clawed up my throat.
Weeks of deception—undone in a single afternoon.
Kay had used my blood against me.
Clearly, sparring with Kay had been a mistake. I saw that now. His eyes hadn’t missed a thing—too calm, too calculating. That casual offer to train with me, when the others were gone, had been anything but casual. It had been a trap, and I’d walked straight into it.
And his smile—thin, knowing—should’ve stopped me cold. I should have realized what he'd been planning.
And that raised another question: Who had studied my blood for him? Did they know what they were looking at? Did they know the blood had come from Lioran? And, if so, did that mean there was more than just Kay and Elenora who knew the truth—my truth?
Had Elenora helped Kay? I’d never seen them together, but that meant nothing.
In truth, I hadn’t seen her at all since the day she'd brought me the Caliope.
I'd thought the Riddle of Blood had proven her to be my ally, but perhaps I was wrong. Regardless, I didn’t trust her.
Never had. And now I wondered if that mistrust was my instincts warning me against her.
I paced my small chamber, my heart thundering, magic stirring under my skin. What was I going to do now? What was left to be done? Around me, droplets of water beaded on the stone, the air thickening with my unrest. I forced a breath. Slow. Steady. I couldn’t afford to lose control now.
If Kay knew what I was—who I was—Merlin’s plan would fall to pieces before it began.
No. He only suspects, I told myself. All Kay knows is that I’m a woman.
But he also suspected I might be a spy.
Suspicion isn’t proof.
That was true. Maybe I could convince Kay I was in the Shadow Trials simply to serve my king with my magic. Hadn't I said as much when Kay had cornered me?
Yes, I had.
That had been quick thinking on my part and the perfect response.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized the situation might not be as dire as I had worried it was.
If I could convince Kay that I wasn't a spy, that I had nothing to do with Merlin whatsoever, and that I was simply in Camelot to serve, I might still have a chance to see this mission through.
Especially when it seemed that Kay had no love for Arthur.
But then I remembered the sticking point: If I remained here, I’d have to submit to Kay’s desires.
I’d have to allow him to bed me. And that was something I couldn’t stomach.
Not only had I never been with a man, but I couldn’t reconcile the thought of Kay being my first. It was just… it was too awful to ponder for long.
But that was exactly what he was already demanding of me: my body in return for his silence. And I wasn’t stupid enough to think this would simply be a one-time event. No, Kay had me exactly where he wanted me, and he would exhaust that power imbalance for as long as he could.
I couldn’t be at Kay’s mercy.
Because there wouldn’t be any.
My footsteps echoed, quick and uneven, as I moved from wall to wall. The moonlight caught the white scars on my knuckles—ghosts of every lie I’d lived as Sir Lioran.
The chamber offered no comfort. My armor loomed in the corner like a silent accusation, its polished surface throwing back a warped reflection—a woman buried beneath a knight’s lie.
“Damn him,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Damn Kay to hell.”
He’d always watched me too closely. Today, that smirk—the one he’d worn when he’d cornered me in the corridor—said everything.
It was too dangerous for me to remain here in Camelot. Now that Kay and Elenora knew the truth (and gods only knew who else did as well), it was just a matter of time before the rest of the court became aware of the spy in their midst.