Before I could respond, the faint scent of leather and steel assaulted my nostrils. I turned to my right to find Lancelot. He stood there with his characteristic silent grace, having moved through the crowded hall without so much as a whisper of sound.
He positioned himself deliberately between Agravaine and me, his muscular arms folded across the black fabric of his tunic. The rich material stretched taut across his broad chest, and I caught myself noting how the torchlight played with the angles of his face, making him look like some hero of fable come to life.
"Lancelot, come to play the part of savior again?" Agravaine nearly spat at him.
The temperature around us seemed to drop several degrees as Lancelot's dark eyes fixed on Agravaine with the sort of quiet ferocity that had earned him his fearsome reputation on countless battlefields.
"Careful, Agravaine."
The smaller man glared up at him. "And why should I be careful?"
Lancelot shrugged, and a rare smile lit his lips. "With such animosity... one might suspect you're making up for shortcomings in other areas." Then he pointedly glanced down at Agravaine's crotch.
Percival laughed immediately, and it was all I could do not to spit my ale out between my teeth or choke on the laugh that was caught somewhere deep in my throat. I found myself simultaneously horrified and impressed by his verbal strike.
Indignation immediately crossed Agravaine's face, and his pale green eyes brimmed with restrained hatred as his hands fisted at his sides. But clearly, he knew better than to tussle with Arthur’s second because he said nothing in response. Instead, he grumbled something unintelligible, his voice sinking beneath the feast’s clamor. With one last poisonous glance my way, he melted back into the throng of revelers, no doubt to find another target less shielded by Camelot's revered sword hand.
"Agravaine isn’t worth your energy," Lancelot murmured as he turned to face me, his tone more private now that the irritant had retreated.
I nodded in gratitude. "I appreciate… what you said."
"It will not keep him from you for long," he answered with a sigh. "Agravaine thrives on cutting others down in order to feel better about himself."
"One wonders why the court tolerates him," Percival grumbled.
Lancelot smirked slightly. "His magic is powerful. It always has been."
He stood so close to me that my pulse quickened in ways that had nothing to do with the lingering tension from Agravaine. I didn't know what it was about this man, but he affected me. He made me nervous—not because I feared him, but because I feared my own reaction to him. Standing this close, I was acutely aware of the breadth of his shoulders,the confident way he held himself, and the subtle power that radiated from him like heat from a forge.
To my surprise, he didn’t move on. Instead, he gestured toward a quieter alcove, partially shielded by the great hearth’s stone column. “Would you walk with me? The hall is stifling, and there are matters we should speak of. The next Trial approaches.” Then he looked at Percival. "I apologize for stealing your companion, Percival."
"Think no more of it, Sir Lancelot," Percival smiled in response, and with a nod of dismissal toward me, he blended in with the rest of the crowd.
As for whatever conversation Lancelot wanted to have with me—an invitation from Arthur’s champion couldn’t be refused—not without raising suspicion. Not that I wanted to refuse it. So, I inclined my head and followed him. We stopped near the hearth’s edge, where shadows softened the flickering firelight and lowered voices could go unheard.
“Your victory against Balan was clean,” Lancelot said, getting straight to the point. “Not just skillful, but calculated. You didn’t overpower Balan—you dismantled him.”
“Thank you, Sir Lancelot.”
“The king noticed.” His gaze remained fixed on me, assessing. “He values adaptability. Your handling of those spectral blades showed more than magic. It revealed forethought.”
“I’m honored to hear it.”
“The king is considering pulling several knights from the general trials,” Lancelot continued. “Setting them aside for specialized training under his and my command. Your name is now on that list.”
My breath caught. The offer was dangerous. Training with either one of them meant more proximity to Arthur, access to the crown’s inner workings… and far less room to hide. But Isupposed such was the exact position I would find myself in as a Knight of the Round Table. Perhaps it was best to start early?
“Specialized training?”
Lancelot nodded. “You can learn from any soldier you spar with. But some challenges require more than a sword or spell. They require clarity under pressure. Precision. Control.”
"I'm honored by His Majesty's notice, though I confess I’m surprised. Many knights showed remarkable skill today."
"Different strengths draw different eyes," Lancelot replied. "Raw power is common. Innovation? Rarer—and far more valuable in the challenges Camelot now faces."
The phrasechallenges Camelot now faceswas intentionally vague, likely a test. I knew what he meant: Merlin’s growing influence in Annwyn and unrest among the northern lords.
"I serve where needed," I said simply. "My abilities belong to Camelot."
