I should have been systematically analyzing every display of his magic, asking him pointed, probing questions designed to weigh his true allegiance and uncover any hidden sympathies he might harbor for Arthur's enemies. My duty was clear: assess whether this knight posed a threat to the throne I'd sworn my life to protect.
Instead, as the ancient oaks creaked ominously around us and the mist thickened between the gnarled roots, I found myself wanting only the comfortable quiet that had settled between us. The steady rhythm of our footsteps on the moss-covered ground, the occasional rustle of leaves overhead, and the subtle awareness of his presence just behind my left shoulder—it all felt unexpectedly peaceful in a way that made no tactical sense whatsoever.
“There,” I said, pointing toward movement in the foliage. A moment later, the shaking stopped. Whatever had been there had moved on. “Did you see it?"
"Yes."
We both slowed.
"Watch the trees—they’ll try to mislead us.”
Mist curled at our feet like a beckoning hand, cool and alive. I took the lead, sword drawn, but still found my gaze drifting toward Lioran, as if my instincts didn’t quite trust the space behind me to be unguarded—not because I feared him, but because I didn’t want to lose sight of him.
“The markings on the trees shift. But moss always grows facing Camelot. If you lose your way, follow the moss.”
“Interesting.”
“There is something here,” I added, kneeling to touch a low-hanging branch that, upon further inspection, had been broken by something.
Lioran was quick to stand beside me. "And from the looks of that branch—it's something large."
I shot him a look, annoyed by how his words mirrored my own thinking, and for an instant, our eyes met. That same quiet certainty lingered in his—calm, composed, utterly unshaken. There was no fear, no bravado, no affectation. Just focus. And it upset me.
Gods above! What was it about this bloody man that unsettled me so?
All he had to do was look at me, and I found myself annoyed.
As we stepped beneath the canopy’s threshold, the forest swallowed the sun. That old silence fell—the one that made your ears ache if you listened too long. A silence that filled withwhispersif you dared listen deeper.
Lioran moved beside me—quiet, smooth, as if he belonged here. And despite myself, I felt the edge of tension within me easing. There was somethingreassuringabout him. Maybe it was the way helistened—to me, to the forest, to everything around him—as though he was part of it all, rather than passing through it like the rest of us.
Whatever else he was, Lioran... was not afraid.
And that made me uneasy.
“The Wilds respond to intention as much as action,” I continued as we moved through a dense tangle of underbrush. “Enter with conquest in your heart, and the paths will lead you astray. Enter with respect, and the forestmayguide you.” I wasn't sure why I felt the need to continue speaking, but it seemed now that I'd started, I couldn't stop.
“Is that something Arthur taught you?”
I shook my head. “No. This knowledge comes from before.”
“Before?”
I nodded, though I rarely spoke of my childhood. It was the hardest time of my life—living purely to survive. All I had knownwas struggle, hunger, and sickness. And then Arthur had found me, and he'd offered me something I'd never had before: hope. “From my childhood. Before Arthur found me.”
"Arthur found you?"
I nodded. "In the streets, living in filth."
Lioran's eyes widened with obvious surprise. “You weren’t born to nobility?”
“Far from it.” And still, I kept speaking.
"I thought all knights were of noble birth?"
"Usually, such is the case. But in my case… no." I cleared my throat, and at the sound of silence, continued. "I was from a similar background to yours, perhaps worse. From humble origins. Raised far from the halls of Camelot, with only shadows for company, my name forged in challenges instead of luxury."
"I admit, I am surprised."
