"—in general," I finished for him as he nodded. "He just seems… naive, untested, unprepared for the harsh reality of the trials."
"And yet he has persevered." He studied Lioran's distant figure. "Is it his youth? Or perhaps his small stature that makes us feel this way towards him? He almost seems childlike. Feminine, even."
Perhaps that was it. The slender build, the delicate features that seemed out of place among the battle-hardened warriors surrounding him. But no, that wasn't quite it. It was something that ran deeper.
"Perhaps," I conceded. "Or perhaps I feel this way because Lioran reminds me of myself as a much younger man."
Lance raised an eyebrow.
"A young man everyone overlooks," I continued. "One they don't imagine will persevere. Yet he keeps surprising them when he does." I remembered the sneers I'd faced as a boy claiming a throne, the whispers that I'd never hold what I'd won. "Thenobility questioned my right to rule. They assumed I'd fail at the first true test."
"And you proved them wrong."
"As Lioran continues to do." Each trial should have eliminated him—his modest background, his lack of prestigious training, his youth, the smallness of his person. Yet he'd persisted. Thrived, even. The Summoning had showcased raw talent. The Labyrinth had revealed mental fortitude beyond his years. The Duel had demonstrated skill that belied his size.
"If his loyalties do lie with the north..." Lance left the thought unfinished.
"Then I'll have misjudged him entirely." The possibility sat heavy in my chest. "But until he proves otherwise, he has my support."
Lance nodded but said nothing more. It was no secret that he'd doubted Lioran just as everyone else had. "Speaking of the scrawny underdog, have you changed your mind then about Lioran?"
Lance swallowed hard. "I will admit I was surprised to watch him best Balan." Then he cocked his head to the side as he studied the young knight in question. "But that doesn't change his small frame. He just appears weak—"
"—he is anything but weak. Wouldn't you say he's proven himself by now?"
Lance nodded. "I suppose he has. Mordred's plan of placing him up against Balan in order to get rid of him seems to have backfired." Then he laughed.
"No one ever imagined Lioran would best Balan," I agreed, nodding at my own surprise. "And on that front alone, I believe Lioran would make an excellent Knight of the Round Table."
"Do you?" Lance seemed surprised.
I nodded. "Everyone has and will continue to underestimate him. He could use that to his advantage, just as he did with Balan."
"True." But Lance did not appear wholly convinced.
The truth was—Lioran's battle with Balan had cemented him as my favorite of the knights, perhaps because he was the underdog. I could only hope his loyalties did not lie with his homeland and with Carlisle.
"We shall see how Lioran fares in the rest of the trials," I finished, watching Carlisle closely as he watched Lioran even more closely. Whatever his intentions, the north's interest in Lioran warranted attention. Close and strict attention.
It was one reason I’d chosen to train Lioran myself—not just to hone his abilities, but to keep him within reach. Within earshot. Within control. And I was not entirely convinced he didn't harbor some insight regarding the woman with the white hair. Guinevere.
At the thought of her name, the dragon sang out in my mind:She has been stolen from us! Taken!
I had to swallow down the beast's anger and frustration as I did not know what more to do about the problem known as Guinevere. I had not heard a word from The Fox. It was as though he had simply disappeared. And the only avenue that might have led somewhere—Blodeuwynn—was now a dead end. Perhaps I might never see the white-haired temptress again. Such would be very good for my kingship but staggering otherwise.
We must find her. She is our mate.
The dragon was insistent. And I had to constantly keep a separation between its blinding need to claim Guinevere and my own interest in her. I could not allow the dragon to influence me—to make decisions it had no business making.
Of course, if I never saw Guinevere again, that would certainly take care of the issue. Perhaps with time, I would be able to forget her? Perhaps time would be the answer to this driving obsession that claimed me both day and night?
We will never forget her.
Around us, the court continued its careful dance. Factions arranged themselves with calculated symmetry. Gold changed hands openly as wagers were placed. Baron Wessex loudly declared his faith in Agravaine, while Lady Melisande quietly handed off a heavy purse in Lioran’s name.
“They play their games,” I said quietly to Lance, “convinced they understand the stakes.”
But none of them did.
