Yes, I could absolutely smite the king. In fact, I had a feeling it would be difficult to restrain myself from doing exactly that.
“If Arthur discovers who you are, he won’t hesitate to kill you,” Corvin said, glaring at me, which only angered me further. “There will be no trial, no second chances, Guin. He will murder you where you stand. But before he does, he’ll make an example of you.”
I will kill him before he ever gets the chance to kill me,I promised myself.
“You must watch your back at all times,” Merlin added. “Never assume that you have earned his trust."
"Arthur trusts no one, not even his knights. Least of all strangers.”
I glanced between them and drew in a steadying breath, attempting to contain my rage. “I understand."
Then I started for the door, eager to leave both of them. Corvin was right behind me, as usual.
"Go with the blessings of Annwyn, Guinevere," Merlin said, halting me with my hand on the door. "May the eternal twilight guide your path."
I didn't bother turning around. “I won’t fail.”
And I meant it.
Even if I had to burn Camelot to the ground. And hopefully, I'd have the opportunity to do exactly that.
CHAPTER TWO
-ARTHUR-
Just Before the Announcement of the Shadow Trials
As the midnight bells echoed through Camelot, I wrapped myself in my robe and slipped from the shadows of my chambers.
Each step down the stone corridors felt heavier than the last, yet I moved with purpose. The moon hung high above as I crossed the courtyard, the flickering torches lining the path.
My destination lay at the far side of Camelot—nestled within the crumbling remnants of the old castle. Once a proud stronghold, it had succumbed to the relentless passage of time, and history had not been kind. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, a testament to the centuries that had passed since its grandeur.
Just below the turret, the old courtyard sprawled out, now a wild labyrinth of neglect and nature's reclaiming touch. Weeds tangled in the cobblestones, breaking through the cracks likerebellious spirits refusing to be subdued. Tall grasses swayed gently in the night breeze, while the remnants of stone benches lay half-buried, their surfaces mottled with moss and lichen, silent witnesses to the laughter and camaraderie that had once filled this space.
In the center of the old courtyard stood a solitary tree, older than any living soul within these walls. Its gnarled branches stretched like skeletal fingers against the night sky. This tree remained a relic of the wild, untamed past of Camelot—connected to Blodeuwyn, the witch of the Whispering Wilds. Its deep roots wound their way through earth and stone, a lifeline between our worlds.
Time melted away as I approached the tree, each step quiet and deliberate. When I reached the tangled old thing, I rested my palm against the cold, rough bark, feeling the thrumming pulse beneath my touch. The ancient wood creaked, the knots in its trunk twisting and reshaping until they formed a crude visage—a mouth set to speak.
"Blodeuwyn," I called to her.
“Arthur Pendragon,” the tree responded immediately, the wood groaning as if burdened with our communication. "King of Logres."
“I need answers.” My voice was sharp, revealing my disdain for anything to do with this blasted witch. But this conversation was necessary.Shewas necessary.
"Answers carry a price." The ancient voice rumbled through the twisted wood, each word deliberate and weighted. The bark beneath my palm grew warm, almost feverish, as if the tree itself anticipated our bargain.
"I am not interested in paying anything. I am king."
"Knowledge flows both ways—what you seek to learn must be balanced by what you are willing to sacrifice."
I felt my eyes narrow of their own accord. "I will leave pure gold coins at the mouth of the Whispering Wilds."
The ancient tree erupted into a laugh that was a horrid sound, like the breaking of bones. "What use have I for the trivial currencies of men?"
I pulled my hand back from the rough surface, my jaw tightening as irritation flared within me. Blodeuwyn always grated against my nerves with her riddles and half-truths, never offering a straight path when a twisting one would suffice. Tonight, with shadows gathering and uncertainty gnawing at the edges of my reign, I had no patience for her games.
"Enough with your riddling words, witch. What the bloody hell do you want from me? Name your price plainly."
