Kingston
A s soon as I’d arrived at Pendragon, I disappeared into my bedroom before anyone could find me.
My father had been calling most of the morning, and when I left Quinn, wanting to know why I’d delayed the Honor Ceremony.
When he threatened to come down here himself, I finally answered. I’d been able to hold him off by letting him know one of the Maidens had gotten sick, told him we’d had to call a doctor and were waiting to hear if it was contagious.
The man hated sickness.
Well, he hated weakness, and that word had become synonymous with sickness a long time ago.
I would have loved to say it was because he’d been so traumatized by losing his beloved wife and seeing his precious son lose his mother.
But that would be a lie.
As soon as I said I would call with a full update, he excused himself from the situation entirely. He’d expect a call soon, though. I wouldn’t be able to hold him off another day, especially once the Camelot Society parents got wind of it.
Which meant it was time.
Time to see if the plans I had carefully orchestrated would come together the way I needed them to, or if my hand would be forced, my strategy adjusted, once again.
As soon as I stepped onto the first-floor landing, Merle found me. He followed me into my office, pacing in front of me.
“, we need to notify your father.”
He was right, obviously, but as usual, telling me things I already knew. Even if I hadn’t avoided him and he’d reached me yesterday, no one kept secrets from Drake D’Arthur.
Certain steps needed to be taken when there was an incident at Camelot Court. After something like this, even more so. A Maiden being drugged during the challenge?
It was unheard of. Unacceptable.
But my father wouldn’t hear of it from me. Or from Merle, if all went as planned, even given my advisor’s apparent distress. “Never in all my years at Camelot Court has something like this happened.”
I arched a brow. “Merle, a Maiden died last year.”
“A terrible accident, . Honestly. The whole thing has been blown out of proportion by rumors.”
Some people believed it was a freak accident. An error in judgment. The poor girl’s failing and proof she hadn’t had what it took to win The Quest.
I was not one of those people.
“Be that as it may, Merle, my father won’t be pleased to hear about this. Two scandals involving girls from outside of our society in back-to-back years?”
“Yes, it’s highly suspicious. But who could be behind it?”
“Whoever is responsible is of little consequence, I think.”
Merle gnawed on his lower lip while wringing his hands. His alarm grew alongside his suspicion at the mention of Drake D’Arthur’s anticipated reaction to the news.
Taking a seat at my desk, I clasped my hands in front of me. “Quinn Everly is under our protection by way of her contract. Something she was clever enough to surmise. Now , how Miss Everly found her way to the by-laws from the contract? To the one statute that guaranteed her continued participation in The Quest?”
I paused, a twinge of pride lifting the corner of my mouth, before I took a breath and schooled my features. Merle was too busy darting his eyes around the room to notice, fortunately, and I continued.
“Since that information was something I brought to you and only you, Merle, I must admit I have my own questions about how this played out, and who might try to get rid of her. Who might have need to tie up loose ends...”
Merle’s eyes jumped back to mine, and I saw his fear. He swallowed deeply, and my heart picked up speed. The move I’d been building toward finally appeared on the board.
“Perhaps I should mention this coincidence to my father on our call?”
“, I did what I was ordered to do if a Maiden requested her contract. Why would I point her toward the by-laws? Why would I keep her here? What purpose could that serve?”
“Intentions and motivations are of little consequence, Merle. Especially to a man who places higher emphasis on appearances.”
I shuffled papers on my desk and moved them aside.
“Quinn Everly has become a liability to Camelot Court, one that grows with each failed attempt on her life and safety. Two Maidens facing this kind of treatment? That’s not a good look for Camelot Court.”
Sweat built at his temples. “, you cannot honestly believe I harmed the girl.”
“We should call him.”
I lifted the landline phone in my office off the receiver, an antiquated piece of the past I still needed. The muted sound of a dial tone could be heard as soon as I did.
Merle’s eyes snapped to the phone.
“Perhaps we don’t need to be hasty.”
He glanced at his pocket, where his phone most likely was, but my refusal to set down the receiver made it clear this would not be a call he’d be making alone.
Wheels turning as his hands shook, his head shot up when a new idea came to him.
“I can call Max and have him come here early. Find out what happened to the girl. If she dishonored herself prior to the drugging, she’s eliminated, anyway. She’ll no longer be an issue.” He laughed nervously. “I mean, safe. She’ll be safe.”
To be fair, his fear was warranted.
Drake D’Arthur had pierced my chest with a poker pulled straight from a lit fireplace. All because of a rumor circulating that reflected poorly on his heir.
But Merle’s eagerness to throw Quinn out to save his skin made me glad I’d chosen him for this.
I hung up the phone, keeping my hand perched over it. A reminder that I could easily pick it back up. A little trick I’d learned, and I couldn’t deny its effectiveness.
“And if the Maiden didn’t dishonor herself?”
“He’ll say she did.”
I held my mask in place with an iron grip.
“How can you be so sure? What if she’s gotten to Max the same way you believed she got to Landon?”
Eyes narrowing on mine, he glared at the mere thought. But he quickly reined in his reaction.
“My son knows where his loyalty lies.”
“Good.” I nodded. “Then, we are agreed we won’t notify him until after the ceremony.”
“What?” Merle’s voice rose in pitch. “Why would we notify him at all if Max takes care of it?”
My eyebrows rose. “Surely, if word gets out about her attack, he’ll need to be notified, Merle.”
“Right, yes. Of course. If word gets out about the attack, we’ll call him immediately.”
He paced the floor some more, his movements jerky, his eyes darting around the room as he thought through a plan.
That was the power Drake D’Arthur wielded over the Camelot Society. Merle hadn’t done anything wrong, and still, the possibility that it appeared that way had him burning a hole in my carpet.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Merle dialed what I presumed was Max’s number and waited for him to answer.
“Maxwell. You’re needed at Pendragon.”
Whatever Max’s response, Merle did not appreciate it.
That pleased me.
“I don’t give a shit, you little—” Merle’s eyes flicked toward me as he cut off whatever glowing words of praise he’d been about to offer his son. “You’ll do as you’re told, or there will be consequences. Don’t test me, boy. Or do I need to call—Right. Good. I’ll expect you soon.”
Whatever Max said put Merle at ease, but I made a mental note to figure out who he’d meant. My suspicion had been that Max Dread no longer prioritized his…prior commitments.
But someone still held sway over him.
Merle hung up the phone, nodding to me. “He’ll take care of her.”
I nodded, waving my hand toward the door and dropping my eyes back to the plans on my desk to let Merle know he could go. His footsteps retreated from the office as I thought over what he’d said.
I was betting on it—him taking good care of her.
I’d chosen to bet on Max Dread when I saw his reaction at the Knights’ Quorum. My confidence in that bet only grew when I learned he’d claimed her with his nickname.
Princess .
It suited him.
Choosing that of all things, without an inkling as to what it meant. To somehow get it right, what she’d need to become, even without all the pieces.
I needed that inherent skill of his.
Especially since I’d learned it only failed him when it came to me and Landon—a problem I imagined would take care of itself with time.
For now, it might work in our favor.
I just hoped he’d stand by his word when it came down to it. Instead of giving in to the pressure around him. Instead of stabbing us in the back.
And betraying her trust to take everything for himself.
His family had a history of it. And while rumors of Landon’s family seat and their treason against the crown were legendary, the single word that had shaped Max Dread’s life was lesser known by those who didn’t take the time to familiarize themselves with our history.
I was not one of those people.
A word hidden throughout generations by calculating men who sought to erase it from memory. One word, a reputation, that others in the Society used to manipulate the weaker men it fell upon, while taking on the role themselves.
Sir Mordred, the usurper .
Old habits died hard.
But I needed them to die with Max Dread.