“Then I go to Arthur this afternoon.” There was no hesitation. “And I take the tunic with me.”
The tunic. Lioran’s tunic. The one I’d kept folded in oilcloth at the bottom of my chest like a man who didn’t understand himself well enough to throw it away. It was evidence of every mistake I’d been making since the moment she’d looked at me from beneath that hood and something in my chest had recognized her before my mind had caught up.
I should have burned it. I’d known that for weeks.
“You’ve thought this through,” I said.
“I think everything through.”
The fountain outside kept flowing. Arthur’s marble likeness held the sword aloft, water pouring over his stone hands, and I stood in that room and made the calculation that I already knew the answer to before I’d started.
I could refuse. I could walk out of here and let Kay take his evidence to Arthur and watch everything collapse. My rank. My place. Whatever fragile and nameless thing existed between Arthur and me that I’d never once examined directly because examining it directly felt dangerous.
Or I could agree to give Kay what he wanted, which would make me something I’d spent my entire life telling myself I wasn’t. Not a traitor exactly. But definitely not the man I’d always claimed to be.
The framing was masterful. I could see the architecture of it clearly: the way he’d turned blackmail into duty, transformed betrayal into devotion. Spy on your king and call it protection. Report to me and call it love.
I saw through every layer of it, but while that was true, I also saw that he wasn’t entirely wrong.
Arthurwascompromised. I was convinced the dragon was making decisions for him that he would never make sober. And I was compromised too, by the haunting memories of a white-haired woman who wouldn’t leave my thoughts. We all were compromised in our own ways: every person in this castle was moving through some variety of fog. The only one operating with clear, cold, unclouded self-interest was the man who was standing in front of me with a smile that promised nothing good.
I turned away from him when Kay spoke again.
“One more thing.”
I stopped but didn’t turn.
“I want your protection.”
That made me face him.
Kay stood with his hands still clasped behind his back, his expression unchanged, but something in the set of his jaw had shifted into something rawer.
“If Arthur falls,” he said, “and the court fractures, they will look to you. They always look to you.” There was a pause as helet the words settle. “A word from you could turn every knight in that hall against me before I’d finished my first sentence. You know that.”
I did know that.
“What are you asking?”
“I’m asking you not to become my enemy.” He held my gaze. “You owe me that much now.”
The efficiency of it was almost beautiful. He’d rendered me unable to lead, unable to rally, unable to act.
Kay hadn’t built a trap. He’d built a cage, and I’d walked into it without a single blow being struck.
“If I agree,” I started, “you keep all of this from Arthur: the truth about Guinevere and this... scheme of yours?”
“Obviously.”
Kay’s eyes stayed on mine, unwavering. “There’s one more thing, Lance.” I looked at him, eyebrows raised and he c0ntinued with a clipped nod. “I require your legitimacy.”
“Why?”
“If Arthur falters and must be...managed or removed, my intellect won’t rally the knights. They listen to you, not me.”
He didn’t need military prowess; he had none. His sharp mind and patience were formidable assets, but armies marched for symbols and honor, not calculation. He needed my standing, my reputation.
What he said about the knights was true. They would follow me into battle because they trusted my leadership. Kay could scheme and strategize, but I’d earned their admiration on fields of blood and in moments of valor.
