“You must retrieve the sword.” The Lady stepped forward, her voice gentle but urgent.
"You retrieve it."
She shook her head. "It is not for me to retrieve. This isyourdestiny."
I backed away from her.
"The sword has seen what lies within you—the power to unite, to heal, to restore what has been broken."
But all I felt was the cold, wild panic of someone who had crossed a line they could never uncross.
What had I done?
"This is your fate. This is how it was meant to be, child. You are the new sovereign.”
“Be quiet!” I hissed, barely breathing the words as panic spiraled within me. “Please. You don’t understand. If someone hears you—if Arthur finds out—” My throat tightened as I considered what would happen to me. “I’d be dead before sunrise.”
“The sword would protect you.”
I stepped back. I had to get out of here before someone caught me. “I… I refuse to… acknowledge what happened here. This is not… my destiny.”
“Fate would say otherwise." She took another step closer. "What is done cannot be undone or ignored, no matter how you might wish it.”
“It can be undone if no one knows what happened." Thank the gods above that it had only been the Lady who'd witnessed the monumental mistake I'd just made.
"This is your fate," she started again as I shook my head.
“I’m begging you—please don’t speak of this to anyone."
"You must claim your destiny."
"I didn’t come here to claim anything.”
“You must accept the truth. The sword has chosen. Excalibur is yours now—by right and by destiny.”
Light shimmered around her, growing brighter. The sword rose from the lake once more, glowing, dripping, radiant. It hovered in the air between us, and I couldn't even look at it. Not when I realized what it represented—death.
“No,” I whispered. “I don’t want it. I don’t want any of this.”
“Purpose and destiny are not always aligned. The sword sees what you refuse to see in yourself.”
“I’m not here to take Arthur’s crown!” The words came too loud, too sharp.
“Excalibur has already chosen. Whether you accept your destiny now or later changes nothing.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
-ARTHUR-
Icouldn’t breathe.
The sword slid from the stone like a blade through butter—gleaming in the serving girl’s hands as if it had been forged for her.
A slip of a girl, doing what I'd failed to do for years.
Fucking inconceivable.
My hand went to my dagger.
