Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Morty delivered his ominous words in French, shot an apologetic look in Kingston’s direction, and another filled with regret at me.
We stood there in silence, and I realized he wasn’t going to expand on that. “What does that mean?” When Morty clenched his jaw, I turned to Kingston, searching his face for answers. “What he just said—What does it mean?”
Kingston dropped his head, opening his mouth to speak, but Landon answered. “No redemption for the dreaded.”
I furrowed my brow, still no clearer on the meaning but understanding the potential tie to the Dread family for now. But I put aside the words as I took in Landon’s posture.
My White Knight stood so rigidly still, he practically vibrated with tension. The longer I watched him, the more I saw it was to keep from moving.
Or breaking apart.
Hands clenched into fists, it was like he was trying to contain everything roiling inside his body. As if everything he was had been trapped beneath a suit of armor.
Just like when I first arrived at Camelot Court.
I stepped toward him.
Wrapping one hand around his tightly clenched right fist, I stared up into his eyes and tried to pull him out of it.
But his attention locked on Kingston. “Le Redouté Vin.”
Kingston nodded while I struggled to recall where I’d heard it before. While I didn’t speak French, I’d taken enough basic Spanish in school to piece together vin and vino.
Wine.
The other word—Redouté—had to be redemption or dreaded. I’d recognized it when Morty had spoken in French, and his use of the word gave me an idea of what it meant.
“The Dreaded Wine?”
My realization pulled their attention to me.
I stared between them, waiting for an explanation, but none came immediately. “Max’s family owns the vineyard? Where the drugged wine came from?”
Kingston nodded. “The Dread family winery has supplied The Quest with its bougie wine for over three generations.”
Morty snorted. “Yep. Ever since the arranged marriage of Merle Dread to your tallest boo’s mother.
The vineyard was her family’s, but they were drowning financially.
When they joined the Camelot Society, they signed over all their assets and put everything in the Dread family’s name.
Except the winery. It did get a nice little name change, though, and even though I’m not the firstborn from Merle’s”—he exaggerated air quotes with his fingers—“legitimate marriage, I am the oldest Dread heir and should be next in line to inherit it.”
“But it’s not passed down that way? Why not?”
“It was a stipulation of the betrothal that it’d be a gift to Max’s mother, and stay in her family line. It can only pass to her child through blood. Unless she couldn’t bear any. That would’ve changed things, but voila! Max Dread was born.”
“And now he’s next in line to inherit it? But Max never—”
Morty kicked the ground, scattering blades of grass with his fancy shoes. “He wants nothing to do with it.”
While I sensed I knew the answer, given what Kingston had shared about Max’s mother, I still asked to be sure. “Why?”
Morty shrugged, but I suspected he knew the answer, too.
Kingston pieced it together. “Because he only inherits it if his mother dies.”
I pressed my eyes shut, as if that would ease Max’s internal struggle. Prior to coming to Camelot Court, I would’ve assumed that any child would choose their parent over an inheritance.
But I’d learned things weren’t so black and white here.
Glancing at Landon, who still stood rigid on the lawn, my heart clenched. Some children were presented with impossible choices, and even making the one Drake D’Arthur wanted, my White Knight had still lost his mother.
Max had chosen differently, saving his mother from the fate Drake had threatened back then, so now, he’d probably do anything to protect her. Give up anything. Even those fancy, astronomically priced bottles of wine.
Even if that inheritance set him up for life financially.
Because that winery remained tied to what he hated most—the Dread family and the Camelot Society.
While Morty glowered, Kingston’s wheels turned, and he put things together.
“Morty should have been the son that my father brought to meet me. The one tested for my right and left hand, with sons from his year instead of Max and Landon’s.
” Kingston’s brief glance at Landon tugged at my heart, but then he continued.
“When my father delayed the test unexpectedly, I didn’t know why. But later, Max came instead.”
“Yeah.” Morty scoffed. “Well, baby bro stood to inherit something the Camelot Society couldn’t touch. You know how they feel about that. Keep your sons close but your money closer, right? I think it’s inscribed on the Camelot Court crest.”
I almost wanted to laugh. He wasn’t wrong.
Morty pinned me with his stare. “When your boo bear failed—”
“By my father’s standards.” Kingston clarified.
Morty rolled his eyes. “I reclaimed the rights of being heir.”
“And for saving her, Max lost his mother anyway?” I balked, drawing in a shaky breath and looking at Kingston. “They killed her? For a bunch of overpriced wine?”
“Nope.”
My eyes flashed to Morty.
“He lost her, alright. But she wasn’t killed. That was the plan, I assume, but she disappeared before they could do it.”
Pieces clicked into place. Things Max had said, rumors I’d overheard or been told, and truths he’d shown me. Suddenly, why Max Dread despised Camelot Court became clear.
He’d chosen to save his mother during the test, but since Drake D’Arthur lost his chance to own something that didn’t belong to him, Max’s choice proved meaningless. Kingston’s father retaliated. She disappeared, lost to her son anyway.
“And Max learned he wasn’t enough.”
I spoke the words more to myself than to the three of them, but then I turned to Landon.
“But you said no one leaves Camelot Court.”
His face remained tight with tension, but he whispered, “No one does.”
“So, how—?”
“I don’t know,” Landon said, and beside him, Morty shrugged. “Beats me.”
Kingston paced where he stood, one hand covering his mouth as he ran through the new information.
“Max may know more than we do, but getting that truth from him isn’t pressing or something I would consider possible, given his current feelings.
” He faced Morty, understanding dawning in his blue-gray eyes.
“But that’s why you reclaimed your birthright.
And why the plan was for you to follow Merle’s footsteps, eventually take the place as my left hand again, despite what my father had decided with the test.”
“Yep.” His snarky response held an undercurrent of rejection. “With Max’s mother gone, and him the new black sheep of the Dread family, Max became the second son he was always meant to be. Except, a minor problem arose. Before she disappeared, Max’s mother changed the rules of the game.”
I arched a brow. “They let a woman do something like that?”
Landon’s serious expression cracked only briefly, bringing relief I hadn’t known I needed, but when Kingston spoke, his features hardened again. “She was the only remaining member of her family at that point.”
Morty nodded. “Yup. She took the documents, every single one, outlining the agreement sealed by her marriage, so the Camelot Society couldn’t destroy them.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Le Redouté Vin is up for grabs to whoever secures a marriage with her family line. A high prize in our world, given the way the winery flourished under the Camelot Society’s eye for investments.
” Morty smirked at Kingston. “It’s not quite the same as a betrothal to a D’Arthur, but it’s more than just a seat at the table. ”
Kingston frowned. “Which makes Max their way to get it.”
“Right you are, ol’ chap.” The derision in Morty’s tone undermined his flippant response, and we all fell silent, thinking over what it all meant.
Landon broke the silence. “So, that’s why Max has been forced to stay at Camelot Court? Forced to attend all the parties, take part in The Quest? Because of some expectation that one day, he’d marry a Camelot Society daughter so they could take control of his inheritance?”
Morty crowed in an obnoxious announcer voice, “Ding! Ding! Ding! And tell him what he’s won!” But then he said seriously, “Their family will claim his inheritance. Why else do you think his name has been proudly shouted throughout our world in full?”
“It’s a reminder.” Kingston pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Max Dread,” I whispered.
“Yes.” Kingston met my gaze. “So, no one forgets which family he’s tied to as well.”
My heart broke, and I had to look away.
I stared at the house in the direction he’d gone, needing to find him. “But Max won’t—he’s not just going to marry someone to inherit a winery he doesn’t even want.”
“No, of course not.” Morty scoffed. “Hasn’t stopped the Valencourts, though. They’ve been after that union since he and Vivian were young. Max has always refused to cooperate. Mostly, at least. Some things he doesn’t have to resist.”
He winked like a fucking asshole, and I ignored him, turning to Kingston. “Is that why he’s still tied to them?”
“It would make sense. But even if it’s true—” Kingston stepped closer to me, taking my hands that I’d threaded into my hair, wanting to pull it out. “It’s like I told you. I still believe he has stronger ties now.”
I exhaled shakily. “This place is a fucking mess.”
Morty muttered, “Understatement of the century.”
Kingston pulled me into his arms and pressed his lips to the top of my head. “I know, love.”
I wrapped my arms around him. “I need to find Max.”
“Of course. Find him quickly. We don’t have long before the others arrive, and I want you to have enough time to talk to him about everything. It’ll be alright. You’ll see.”
Nodding into his chest, I pressed my cheek against him and met Landon’s gaze.
His expression softened when our eyes met, and he forced a smile to reassure me. But the bruise forming over his left eye and his split lip did the opposite.
“Are you okay?”
He touched his eyebrow tenderly as he wet his lips, and nodded. “I’ll be alright.”
I needed to talk to both of them about what Morty had shared. The veiled truth about Desi, her death, and I needed time to connect the dots between what he’d shared and what I already knew. But as usual, so much new information had been thrown at me, I had no idea where to begin.
Only one thing was obvious.
Torn between getting answers and fixing things with Max, I chose him.
He didn’t know it yet, but I would choose him—choose any of them—over answers.
If we could, I’d leave Camelot Court behind with the three of them, even if Drake D’Arthur’s gilded kingdom fell because of it. And if we couldn’t leave, then I’d find another way to destroy it. I’d do whatever I had to do to get to the end, and I needed to make him see why.
They weren’t using me for their goals.
I wanted it. For them.
The urge to protect them, to beat their enemies, and to do it from my position? As an outsider, a pawn, and a woman—what they thought they controlled and could wipe off the board—I wanted that.
So we could be free.
I wouldn’t stop unless I had no other choice, and I believed I could do it. That was my role here, after all. Wasn’t it?
Guinevere.
The woman who tore Camelot apart.
The harlot who ended Arthur’s reign.
That legend—I’d fight like hell to repeat it in our history.