Chapter 67
There was a crown sitting in the middle of Arthur’s bed. He stared at it until his eyes blurred.
‘I found it.’ Jalen’s voice.
Arthur didn’t even ask why Jalen was there, how long he’d been there. ‘Where?’
‘It doesn’t matter where. It’s yours. Put it on.’
‘I’m not sure…’
‘Just try it, Arthur.’ Jalen’s footsteps crossed the floor.
When Arthur didn’t move, Jalen picked the crown up from the bed and held it out.
It was a simple crown, not that Arthur had anything to compare it to.
It was gold, inlaid with an intricate design – two dragons, twisted around one another.
Jalen met Arthur’s eyes and smiled. ‘If you’ll let me… ’
Numb, Arthur nodded. Jalen moved behind him and slowly, gently, set the crown on Arthur’s head.
‘It fits perfectly, like it was made for your head,’ Jalen murmured. ‘Like the sword was made for your hands.’
‘I don’t want it.’
Jalen came to stand in front of him. ‘The crown? I guess you don’t have to wear it if you—’
Arthur shook his head. ‘The sword. I don’t want it anymore. I never wanted it.’ He touched the crown. He could barely feel its weight, as if it was made of air. The metal was cool beneath his fingers.
The Sword of the White Dragon was resting against the wall near the head of the bed. Jalen retrieved it and held it out for Arthur. He took it, unable to resist, and wanted to vomit.
‘What will you do with it?’ Jalen asked.
Arthur shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I have this horrible feeling that, even if I buried the thing deep in the ground or locked it in Eseld’s tomb with the Grail, it would haunt me.
It would be in my dreams, talking to me like it has been since I found it.
’ He felt his face spasm. ‘I want it to be silent.’
Gently, Jalen took the sword and placed it on the bed.
Arthur watched him as covertly as he could.
He still hadn’t processed what it meant that Jalen was human again or that he was here.
In many ways, it was like nothing had ever happened, like they were in Kernou again, nervous around one another, stealing glances.
Jalen noticed Arthur staring, and both their faces warmed.
He let his eyes trace the line of Jalen’s arms, the sweep of his shoulder, his spine, settling back on his arms. Once, Arthur had felt safe in those arms, his head nestled beneath Jalen’s chin.
Arthur shifted his weight. His throat had grown tight, warmth curling in his blood. It had nothing to do with the sword or the crown on his head, but the man who had put it there. He shouldn’t feel anything for Jalen, shouldn’t want to cross the room and pull Jalen into his arms, but he did.
Jalen flashed him a nervous smile. There were lines around his eyes that Arthur was certain hadn’t been there before. Jalen drifted to the window. Gilded in sunlight, he appeared at peace.
Arthur swallowed, heart-sore. He cleared his throat, not knowing what to say. Jalen gave him a nod and left.
The Sword of the White Dragon smiled with all its teeth.
It was a victorious smile, smug and dripping with arrogance.
Arthur glared at it. His fingers twitched.
He shoved them in his lap, eyes fixed on the Treasure lying on the table in the Hall.
Sunlight poured through the stained-glass to bathe the Sword in a glorious spectrum of colour.
The weapon had won him a war, a throne, a crown, but Arthur hated it more than he’d ever hated anything before.
He shifted uncomfortably, leaning back against the hard timber of the throne.
This was the first time he’d sat in it, and the moment he’d eased his body down, he’d wanted to get up and run from the Hall, screaming.
But he didn’t, because too many had died for this moment. It would dishonour their memories if he turned his back now.
The weight of the crown on Arthur’s head threatened to put him on his knees. So much death and ruin, so he could wear a crown and call himself a king.
He didn’t feel like a king. He felt like a man who had seen too much already. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do this. That he didn’t want to – had never wanted to – meant nothing.
Arthur reached up to run his fingers over the crown. He’d earned it in blood and death.
He didn’t know what to do about the Sword.
Its whispers brushed the back of his mind, but he shut it out.
He never wanted to hear its voice again.
He was still staring at it when Katarin entered the Hall, Olwen striding in behind her.
Kat’s face was full of shadows, her mouth a tight line.
She was returning to Cruithea. She hadn’t said it, but she didn’t have to – Arthur could read it on her face.
Kat pulled out a chair and sat, crossing one leg over the other, immediately drumming her fingers on her thigh. Olwen was staring at the windows. She threw Arthur a little smile.
‘They got your eyes right,’ she commented, then took a seat beside Katarin.
Arthur stared at his sister. He was awed by her – he always had been, but now, despite the pain that sat on her face, she radiated strength. He’d been worried this whole thing would break her, would break all of them, but it hadn’t.
Kat raised her eyebrows at him, and for a moment, he saw a crown of leaves and feathers on her head.
‘What?’ she demanded.
He smiled. ‘Nothing.’
She snorted, then indicated the Sword. ‘Are you keeping it?’
‘Of course he is,’ Olwen said, her mouth dropping open when Arthur shook his head. ‘But… it’s… it was meant for you, Arthur.’
‘I told you so,’ Kat murmured to her.
‘It’s served its purpose,’ Arthur said. Olwen blinked at him, and seeing the feisty Red Sister lost for words made him chuckle. He sobered quickly, his gaze locked on the sword.
Katarin cleared her throat. ‘Arthur—’
‘You’ll make a spectacular High Priestess, Katarin,’ he cut in.
She blushed.
The door to the Hall opened again. Arthur tensed, then seeing it was Jalen, relaxed.
Jalen, dressed in earth browns again, hesitated when he spied Kat and Olwen, then closed the door and made his way towards them.
Calla hurried in with him, her expression harassed.
She caught up to him, hissing something under her breath. He scowled at her and shook his head.
Kat raised her eyebrows. No one had quite known what to do with Calla.
She acted like it wasn’t anything unusual, Arthur being where Mordred had been.
She’d made it clear that she held no animosity towards Arthur or any of his supporters, nor did she particularly support Mordred.
She’d left Kernou because, like so many of them, she wanted a better life.
Katarin sighed. ‘Whatever you two are squabbling about, spit it out. What’s the problem?’
Jalen and Calla fell silent. Jalen’s eyes shifted to Arthur while Calla looked at the floor. At least, Arthur thought, she didn’t curtsey this time.
‘The same problem we’ve faced since we got to this blasted place – no food, no resources, lack of water, no order, no organisation.’ She ticked them off on her fingers as she spoke. ‘I’m sorry to tell you but you’ve taken over a huge mess… Arthur.’
‘Well,’ he began, trying to quell the panic that was rising. Mordred had made it work, so he would as well. ‘What should we do?’
Calla blinked at him. ‘You’re asking me?’
‘Yes,’ he said simply.
‘I… rations, for now,’ she said, drawing herself up tall. ‘Until we can organise supply runs. We’ll need to have enough for winter,’ she added. ‘Fuel for fires as well. We’ve got grass now, which is nice, but we can’t burn it for warmth or cooking, can we?’
Arthur smiled. ‘No. Alright, let’s do that. Rations, then a supply run. Can you organise that for me?’
Calla opened her mouth, stunned, then nodded.
‘I can. But we don’t have any way to travel except on foot, and unless there is a hidden stash of coins here, which there isn’t because I’ve been all over this castle, no one has any money and we’ve got nothing to barter.
’ She stopped, her face folding into a frown.
‘If I may,’ Jalen said. ‘There would surely be things in this castle that we don’t need and could use to trade with…’ He paused. ‘Where will we trade? Malist is the closest but destroyed, and Kunis—’
‘Cruithea,’ Kat said. She stood. ‘We trade with Cruithea. It won’t be much, but it’s a start.’ She turned to Arthur. ‘Gaheris is leaving tomorrow, Ethinne as well. People want to go home. Those still unable to travel will return when they are well enough.’
Arthur realised that while he’d been brooding over swords and crowns and whether he truly was ready to do this, his sister had already started rebuilding her country. ‘We’ll start with Cruithea then.’
Kat nodded, and Olwen headed for the door. She paused, glancing over her shoulder at Calla. ‘Are you coming?’
Calla nodded.
‘Wait,’ Arthur said. He descended from the dais.
Calla watched him with thinly veiled suspicion.
He didn’t take it personally – he had the impression that was the sort of person she was, and he couldn’t blame her for that.
Once Kernou got its claws into you, it was hard to shake the place off.
‘I have an offer for you. I need someone who knows this castle already to oversee the day-to-day operations. Food, water, cleaning… whatever people need.’ He paused. ‘Are you up for the task?’
‘Am I… what?’ she whispered in disbelief. ‘Are you asking me to run a castle?’
He shrugged. ‘You were already doing that, weren’t you?’
‘I suppose…’ She smiled then, a true smile, and followed Kat and Olwen.
Jalen groaned. ‘She will be impossible, you know that, right?’
Arthur grinned, taking a seat at the table, gesturing for Jalen to join him. ‘She reminds me of Jenyfer. Is there still no sign of her?’
Jalen shook his head. ‘Lamorna is missing as well,’ he said. ‘It’s like she vanished into thin air, Arthur. No one has seen her.’
Arthur frowned. ‘I’ll send a group to search for her.’
Jalen was sitting back in his seat, casual, the way he used to when he was a fisherman.
His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, his hair tousled, eyes soft.
An idea grew in Arthur’s mind, his heart, one that had been growing for some time.
He cleared his throat. Jalen had been studying the stained-glass windows, but his eyes swung back to Arthur.
Arthur tapped his fingers on the tabletop.
‘I need help with all of this, Jalen. Guidance. Someone to… I don’t know, let me blurt out my crazy ideas and tell me they’re crazy.
Someone who has seen what was and who knows what the new world should not be.
Someone who understands people and what they desire. ’
Jalen nodded. ‘Perhaps one of the Red Sisters?’
‘I don’t want any divine interference,’ Arthur said. ‘I’m not sure I can trust it.’
‘That’s fair,’ Jalen agreed.
‘I need someone who will speak plainly to me, not agree with everything I suggest because I’m wearing a crown,’ Arthur said. Jalen had dropped his eyes to his fingers. He was fidgeting, something Arthur recalled him doing a lot in Kernou. ‘I was thinking about you.’
Jalen’s head snapped up. ‘Me?’ he breathed, eyes wide. ‘I’m not… I’m not what I used to be, Arthur—’
‘Exactly,’ Arthur cut in. ‘But you are hundreds of years old, Jalen. You’ve seen this world wearing more than one face. You know what it was like.’
Jalen was very quiet and still. Arthur waited, not sure what he’d do if Jalen refused him.
‘You trust me?’ Jalen asked eventually.
‘I trust that you want what’s right – you’ve always wanted that.’
‘Only, I was wrong before,’ Jalen said. His frown was deep.
‘You won’t be this time,’ Arthur said.
Jalen took a deep breath. ‘Katarin?’
‘Returning to Cruithea,’ Arthur said.
‘Iouen?’
‘Returning to the sea,’ Arthur replied.
Jalen opened his mouth, but Arthur held up his hand. ‘Jalen, I’m asking you to be my advisor,’ he said. ‘I want you by my side through this. Do you accept?’ He reached over and took Jalen’s hand. ‘No matter what happened between us, your opinion has always mattered to me.’
‘I…’
‘Ankou sent you back,’ Arthur murmured. ‘To me. To the world of men. Perhaps the God of the Otherworld saw what you and I did not.’
Jalen swallowed. ‘Alright,’ he said. His fingers tightened on Arthur’s. ‘I accept.’
Arthur smiled. ‘Good.’