As we made our way toward the more crowded paths, I felt the shift again—that inevitable return to formality, to masks and expectation. When we reached the main courtyard, we paused, exchanging the polite nods required by our stations.
But just before we parted ways, I caught myself smiling.
Not a mask. Not a courtly gesture.
A real smile.
The first in longer than I cared to remember.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
-GUIN-
Isat alone in my chamber, unable to sleep.
Instead, I sat staring at the flickering candle flame on my table. The following trial would begin at dawn, yet still no word had emerged regarding what the trial would entail—something that only fueled the anxiety within me.
My fingers traced the worn edge of the table as I considered how precarious my place in Camelot had now become. Elenora knew my secret—how, I still didn’t know—and that alone was troubling. But after the conversation with Lance beneath the moonlight, I feared he, too, stood on the edge of discovery.
I closed my eyes and remembered the gentleness in his voice, the softness of his expression, the way I’d let pieces of my true self slip through the mask. It had feltrightin the moment—a stolen breath of honesty in a life lived behind layers of lies—but now I cursed myself for it.
If Lance knew the full truth—that I was a spy sent by Merlin to infiltrate Arthur’s court—he would have no choice but to imprison me and hang me for my crimes. His duty to Arthur would demand it.
Yet he'd offered me protection—even though he didn't want to know my secret, he would protect it and me. Didn't that mean something?
No, it didn't. The sad truth was that it was easy to offer protection when you didn’t know what you were protecting—a viper coiled in the heart of Camelot.
A knock startled me.
At this hour, visitors were rare. Most knights had already sought their rest or lost themselves in the castle’s more carnal pleasures. I pulled the moisture from the air, then passed a hand over my face, feeling the familiar tingle of magic as it responded to my will. The Lioran glamour settled into place like a second skin—the illusion that had become as much a part of me as breathing. The transformation was so practiced now that it required barely a thought, yet tonight the weight of it felt heavier somehow.
Another knock. This one a little more urgent.
I opened the door cautiously and found Elenora standing on the threshold. Immediately, my heart dropped.
“Lioran,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, shaded with something I couldn’t quite name.
Memories of our last time together hit me hard, and a mixture of shame rose to my cheeks, heating them instantly. Regardless, I stepped aside to allow her in. Elenora moved past me, her presence filling the room the way it always did.
It was her eyes I noticed first—how they were narrowed, focused entirely on me—calculating or concerned, I couldn’t tell. The flicker of the candle flame also revealed the furrow between her brows, the tightness around her mouth—signs that something weighed on her.
I closed the door behind her.
"You can wear your true face."
I nodded slowly, the familiar sensation of the Lioran disguise dissipating like mist as I let it slide away from my skin. Elenora moved deeper into the room, her footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor, an embodiment of silent grace. But as she did, unease twisted in my gut—her presence felt heavy with unspoken intentions. Was she here to remind me of the leverage she wielded like a sword over my head? Would she seek to blackmail me, revealing my secrets and vulnerabilities for her own gain? Or perhaps, was she here to warn against my growing feelings for Lance?
She began to pace the small confines of my room but said nothing.
"You seem as if you're bothered by something," I asked, keeping my tone neutral while watching her closely for any hint of her true purpose.
She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she stopped her pacing and drew something from within the folds of her cloak—an object wrapped in deep blue silk.
"In a manner of speaking, yes," she said, her eyes locked on mine. "I am… concerned."
"About?"
"The next trial."
