Sword in the Stars (Once & Future #2) - Cori McCarthy Page 0,10

away, leaving Gwen in the middle of that battle to take the heat meant for him. Arthur wasn’t starting out very high in her opinion. Merlin tried to give Ari one more pep talk, but she cut him off with a hug. “It’ll be okay, old man.”

Merlin smiled a bit at Ari’s nickname for him. But it faded, fast. “I believe, here at least, I am the young man.”

Ari donned her helmet and left the stables, heading through the main doors of the keep. The guards didn’t stop her—like all things in this time, appearances meant everything. In her fine armor, she was treated like a prince. As long as no one figured out she wasn’t packing man pieces, they’d act as if she had the divine right to look down on everyone. So much of this culture made her wretchedly sick. She could only imagine how Gwen was doing with it.

Gwen. Every step brought Ari closer. It sent heat through her veins, reviving the dream that had woken her up to find her legs swimming and her breath tight…

Ari found herself in the throne room without knowing how she got there. The ceiling was stories high, unusual for this era, with vaulted stone, thick beams, and dyed glass in the windows. The place hummed with finely dressed nobles. Out of habit, Ari searched for any threats, tracking the pack of knights behind the empty wooden throne. She’d only met one of them when she arrived, an old knight with creaky joints called Galahad.

Ari stepped down a fur runner, gathering attention as the room quieted, all eyes on her.

And that’s when she spotted Gwen, safe in a circle of ornately dressed women, head craned to see over their protective ring. Ari wondered if Gwen could feel her taking in every single curve of Gwen’s neck, cheek, lips from beneath her helmet. When Gwen blushed, Ari felt certain her lady could. Ari stopped at the center of the room, unsure of where to direct herself since the throne was empty. Arthur slid out from the crowd of nobles, as skinny and small as Merlin was these days. He grinned at the sight of Ari, which was not what she expected at all.

What the…

Arthur was little more than a child.

“You’re alive!” he cried. “I thought for certain Sir Kay’s blow would have finished you.”

Ari genuflected. Once on her knee, head bowed, the young king lifted her arm, inspecting the spot where the rounded dagger had punched a hole in the circlets of her chainmail. Ari nudged him off, feigning pain. In truth, Mercer’s pill had knitted everything back together so well she only felt tightness this morning. “Your Sir Kay should work on his aim. His blow did not meet its mark.”

“A good thing. He was wrong to attack a defender of my kingdom.” Arthur glanced at the knights with a hard scowl, and Ari watched the one called Sir Kay turn his back pointedly. Arthur beckoned her to rise and walked to his throne. He hopped onto the large seat and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Would you remove your helmet, good knight?”

Ari did as she was told, tucking it under her arm. She managed to refrain from looking back at Gwen, but only just. Ari couldn’t seem to find words. Why in the hell was Arthur so young? Had they completely botched the time jump? By the looks of him, his eighteenth birthday—and the moment the chalice was set to appear—was solid years away.

“I surprise you,” Arthur said, ruddy-cheeked.

“You have no beard,” Ari said, unable to suppress a bout of what Kay had loved to call Ari Brand Honesty. “I heard you were older.”

Arthur smiled, which was oddly adorable. Slightly gap-toothed and far too earnest. “You and me both, I’d say. Although how I envy your great height, Sir…?”

Shit. She’d forgotten to think of a decent moniker.

Ari gave Arthur a slight smirk.

“You conceal your name from the king of Camelot?” he asked, more curious than accusing. He stood, holding her gaze even though she was an entire head and shoulders taller than him—and most people in this time period. He circled her, and Ari felt his studying eyes everywhere. “You are odd. You speak to a king as if he is your equal. You wear the blue armor of Normandy but your skin is darker than a Northman. More like the southern Franks. You travel without servants, your accent is very strange, and your armor is too short