On the purple seat cushion, Ari found a worn wooden box with a clunky metal latch.
The perfect size for a chalice.
Ari’s fingers twitched, and she swore she heard Kay in her head, ribbing her for her impulses, but she unlatched the box and swung it open.
It was empty.
“But Gweneviere, I—” Arthur’s voice snapped to a stop. Ari spun around. Gwen had tricked Arthur here, from the look of mild betrayal on his face. How very Gwen.
“And you’re not coming out until you sort this,” Gwen hissed, such a boss that Arthur stepped back while Gwen shut the double doors behind her.
Ari and Arthur were alone.
“You came back. You shouldn’t have.”
“There are tons of things I shouldn’t do.”
Arthur stared at her outfit. Ari had decided against her armor for the first time since she’d arrived at Camelot. She wore a man’s tunic, her arms and scars on show. She’d bound her breasts but there was no denying that her frame didn’t hold the same imposing weight without the bulk of her armor. Ari opened her mouth, but Arthur beat her to it, eyeing the box in her hands. “So you found my chalice. Maybe I should try it out on you. I don’t know what it does.”
Ari showed off the empty box. “It’s not here.”
Arthur moved forward, taking the box and relatching it. “This wood is magic. The chalice is only there if I open it. Merlin gave it to me.”
“So open it.” Ari smirked, and Arthur looked amused at first, and then grouchy.
“I want you out of my kingdom.”
“Why? Because I have breasts? Or because Gweneviere prefers—”
“You lie, and you… direct me. A lot.” He seemed to shrink in the presence of the throne. He moved to the other side of the room, setting the box down on a large, rectangular table.
“Yeah, that is definitely not the right shape,” Ari murmured before she could stop herself.
“What?” Arthur shouted so loudly it echoed. “What does that even mean? You have a problem with everything I do, including the shape of my table?”
“That’s the abridged version, truth be told.”
Arthur took a deep breath. His blond hair was lank today, the summer humidity missing. “What do you want from me?” he asked, so exhausted Ari caught a flicker of the Arthur she’d seen in Nin’s cave, unrested. Unresolved. A few millennia from now, his voice was going to be the only saving grace when Mercer attacked her planet.
He was only able to save her because he was lost. How had Morgana described his curse?
His soul flits in and out of reality like a bird with a broken wing.
“Arthur, I…” Ari cleared her throat. “You have an important legacy. I want to help you.”
“You sound like my queen.” He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. “How? How do I make all this change? I told you in the woods, I’m supposed to answer questions that I’ve never even fathomed. I’m supposed to help people I do not know. It’s impossible.”
Ari took his hand and pulled it from his eyes. She held his fingers, almost sweetly. Arthur was clearly surprised by her gentleness and stared at her calloused palms. “You stop being afraid of what you don’t understand. That’s how. And you trust your knights. You make a true bond out of their loyalty.”
“How am I supposed to trust any of you?” Arthur said quietly. “You’re all lying. You probably want my throne, my kingdom. My wife,” his voice choked up. “Well, you can have the throne. I never wanted it in the first place. But I need Gweneviere.”
Ari grabbed his shoulder to keep him from staring at the throne so forlornly. She turned back to the small, magical box. “The enchantresses gave you an incredible gift, Arthur. You’re supposed to use this to bond with your knights.”
“How?”
“I don’t… know.” Ari heard Val’s voice in her head. Give it sails. And then Lamarack’s enamored whisper about the joy of making the legend happen. Ari reached into her pocket and felt the curled shape of the MercersNotes on King Arthur and his knights. “I have to show you something. Something to help explain why you should trust me. How you can trust me.”
Only, Ari’s hand wouldn’t come out of her pocket. A guiding presence stilled her.
Not the book. The sword.
Ari inhaled sharply. She hadn’t heard Arthur’s voice in too long. It gave her hope while at the same time it reminded her how very frail and weak his spirit was becoming. Ari let go of the book and looked at Arthur. At the epic sword in the sheath at his waist.
“I hear that only King Arthur can lift Excalibur.”
Arthur scowled. “You want to try my sword?”
“If I could lift it, you would trust me, wouldn’t you?”
Arthur smiled, but it was a hopeless look, one that bled exasperation. How many other knights had stomped into his kingdom and demanded to try out the legendary sword? He lifted it from his sheath and struck it down hard in the stone floor.
Excalibur sliced through it with ease. Exactly as Ari remembered. Her hands hummed a little as her fingers trailed the hilt, reaching for the familiar handle. And when she lifted the blade free, her relief felt like waves crashing over rock. She’d missed every ounce of Excalibur.
And then she noticed that Arthur was looking at her with fear, and perhaps reverence.
Ari dropped the sword flat on her palms and held it out to him. “Do you trust me now, Arthur? Because Excalibur sure does.”
That evening, Ari returned to the throne room, armor shining. All of Arthur’s knights were there, including a rather red and sweaty-faced Sir Kay. They were seated around a newly rounded table. Merlin had delightedly let them all know that Old Merlin had
