Kingston
Everyone gathered in a circle around my father.
It was always a circle. Symbolic. A tribute to King Arthur’s Round Table.
Meaningless, really.
I brushed a hand down the front of my suit jacket as I stepped beside him. He flicked his gaze in my direction, nodded for the sake of propriety, and then faced his adoring cohort of sycophants and snakes.
Running down the line of them, I noted each person as if assessing pieces on a chessboard. The pawns on both sides, smaller families with no power aside from the seat they’d won by marriage or their son’s appointment to the Knights.
And those with more power, the ability to move in different directions across the board.
Landon stood in front of his father, at my father’s left.
Max stood next to his father, Merle Dread, at my father’s right. His right-hand man had returned to Pendragon with an axe to grind for his embarrassing removal from his station.
My lips twitched with pride. Because no advisor had been relieved of his duties in the history of The Quest.
His glare bored into me, and I swept the rest of the circle as my father made introductions.
“As you’ve all heard, a Maiden came forward requesting to invoke the statute on Ultimate Female Virtue.”
Morgan Reid’s father, a tall, thin, and balding man in a three-piece Armani suit, expressed his outrage over the statute. From his place behind his daughter’s Knight, Dax Draconis, and his family, he grew red-faced and agitated with trying to be heard over their shoulders.
“That rule is antiquated! It hasn’t been relevant in decades, Drake. This is preposterous!”
Murmurs of assent followed from several of the families. It quickly highlighted which Ladies would be eliminated if the statute was invoked and the competition whittled down to the remaining, eligible contenders.
It also signaled which would remain: Elaine Astolat and Peter Valencourt, Camille Cundrie and Ben Devereaux, Angela Bradford and Brad Angelise, Izzy Gold and Tristan Léon, and surprisingly, Vivian Valencourt and Max Dread.
I didn’t know which of the pairings surprised me most. Max Dread and Vivian had never openly stated they’d been intimate, but they’d more than implied it. A move I now suspected had been intentional, at least, on Vivian’s side.
Landon recalled finding Vivian naked in Max’s bed on day one of the Trust Challenge. Thinking of it now, it appeared purposeful. Calculated. Misdirection meant to allude to their intimacy, so no one would suspect that she was a virgin.
The question that remained was why.
Unless the plan had been to invoke the statute, if needed, all along. A trump card.
But why would Max Dread go along with it?
Had he known? Had he been involved at all?
Or had he simply not been interested, but assumed she’d seen to her needs elsewhere?
The latter seemed more likely, but I needed to find a way to get these answers. To more fully understand his current motivations and intentions, and finally get to the root of hers.
My eyes narrowed on Percy Valencourt, Peter and Vivian’s father, as he addressed mine.
Speaking as if he owned stock in the throne, pinpointing where his superiority stemmed from proved difficult.
He’d been putting pressure on my father over the statute since the news came out about Elaine to the other families, but why hadn’t they invoked it then?
They were after something. Up to something. Max Dread was involved, or he had been, but what part did he play in Percy Valencourt’s larger plan?
An allegiance between Vivian and Max would give him standing, but Max Dread wouldn’t marry for another man’s greed and power, especially not with Quinn in the picture. So, if he refused a union, what then?
“At this point, the by-laws are the by-laws. It doesn’t matter what has passed or what will come to pass.
We are bound by our pledge to serve Camelot Court and uphold its by-laws, whether we like it or not.
Or does our tradition not matter? Are any of the rules written in the by-laws also negotiable?
Perhaps we should look closer at which ones don’t align with our ways any longer.
Which no longer serve the greater good inside the Camelot Society. ”
Several families, especially those behind the Knights, murmured their agreement.
Were it not for the mask I maintained, even I would’ve shown support, but the rigid posture and impassive expression I wore in the face of criticism matched my father’s for a reason. He couldn’t know.
He wouldn’t.
“Settle down, everyone.” My father held up one hand to silence the crowd, his eyes passing over each member.
“Equally important to our by-laws are the promises made within them. The promise of The Quest is one that each of your families has planned for and expected. As is your right by pledging your loyalty. This is not a decision we will make lightly.”
One by one, he assessed them. Slowly, a triumphant smile spread across his face. “We will put it to a vote.”
My eyes widened, and I quickly schooled my features, glancing sharply at Landon before I did. His expression mirrored most of the families with raised eyebrows and confused looks on their faces.
Because my father didn’t yield.
And he never put things to a vote.
He chuckled, a throaty, grating laugh that didn’t fit with the man I’d known my whole life. “There can be compromise in times such as these, no?”
Percy Valencourt narrowed his eyes, but not at my father. I followed his gaze from beside Landon to where he stared across the circle. Whether he trained it on Max, Merle, his wife, or his daughter, I couldn’t be sure.
But he waited for something.
“Knights and Maidens, discuss together with your families and decide on your vote. Each of the seats on the Round Tableau shall receive one. Knights, you can consider this your first taste of the real Round Table. You will vote, and in the event of a tie, Kingston shall act as the deciding vote. An honor bestowed to the reigning King of Camelot Court on both tables.”
I straightened under my father’s attention, directing mine forward.
My father continued. “Once everyone has had time to discuss, we will return and vote in reverse.”
He turned to his right and faced the Dreads, and I followed his example. I scrutinized each of them.
Vivian’s father was impossible to read, but his usual air of superiority, so similar to his daughter’s, remained.
Vivian’s mother stood closely behind him, so close I couldn’t see anything but her head beside Max’s right shoulder. Merle appeared torn between nervousness and his earlier zeal, but it was Max who concerned me most. The cracks in the normally aloof and unaffected expression caught my attention.
The sweat on his brow. The tightly clenched fist at his side.
And the way he held his breath.
I didn’t know what to make of it, but it struck me as odd compared to his usual anger and resentment over most Camelot Court activities. Before I could gather more insight, my father pulled his focus to the center of the room.
“Max Dread.”
He exhaled and reverted to his typical nonchalant stance and smug grin, meeting my father’s gaze as if this was all insignificant to him, at best.
Vivian’s mother glanced at him before redirecting her eyes across the room at Percy. He nodded in response.
The need to uncover their grander plan grew stronger as my father gave his final words.
“Sir Mordred, the first vote will go to you.”