The Darkest Knight (Guardians of Camelot #3) - Victoria Sue Page 0,37

for a scouting party. I think if anything we need to be on our guard. If I were them, I would wait until my enemy was asleep after celebrating a victory and then attack.”

“The Saxons cannot get across the marshes without being spied,” Mordred argued.

“There is more than one way to get to our camp for an enemy familiar with the area,” Arthur said mildly. Mordred’s face looked like thunder, but he didn’t argue.

Just then the guards pushed the tent flaps aside, and two others dragged a beaten and bloody man between them, pushing him to kneel, as they approached the king.

Charles.

But Kay had been expecting it was him from the second they mentioned someone had tried to steal the sword. He stared in horror as Charles lifted his face. One eye so swollen it was firmly closed. Lips cracked and bleeding. Cuts and scrapes covering his bare upper body and the bruises on his side already reddening.

Uther contemplated him in silence for a moment. “Did you think to try your hand at regicide?”

Charles stared at Uther but didn’t reply. One of the guards stepped forward and lifted his hand as if to strike. Kay took a step forward, unsure of what he could do except he couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. Uther lifted his own hand, and the guard paused. Charles hadn’t even flinched.

Uther tilted his head in consideration. “Where are you from?”

“East of Damascus, Your Majesty.”

Kay knew the shock that would cause and wasn’t surprised when Marcus and Davidas drew their swords. He also knew it was clever. Charles had to come up with something to explain his speech, and neither would have heard an American accent.

“So, it is an assassination,” Mordred nearly crowed, clearly still smarting at Uther agreeing with Davidas and Arthur.

“We have no argument with you or your people. It is the Romans we want gone from our holy city.”

Uther looked unimpressed and sat down. He drew his goblet toward him and sipped. “You do not have the appearance of the east, and even if I believed that, how is stealing my sword going to help you defeat the Romans? I think you need considerably more than one blade.”

Charles licked his dry lips. “You are legend among my people. You have the sword that defeated the empire. My priests said that only when the sword is used in the temple shall Damascus be free once more.”

Uther sat back in surprise, and everyone was silent for a moment while the king considered Charles’s story. Kay held his breath, and his fingers itched for his own sword. It was a clever story, but he had no idea if Charles would be believed. Charles coughed, and Uther, catching sight of Kay holding the jug of wine, waved him forward.

Kay didn’t need telling twice, and he scooped up an empty goblet, pouring some wine in as he stepped toward Charles. Charles didn’t look up, but Kay offered the goblet to Charles’s lips as his hands were tied. When Kay brushed Charles’s cheek with the tip of his finger as he moved the goblet, Charles’s head snapped up, and they both stared at each other before Charles took a swallow and Kay stepped away.

Kay still had a second to register the steely determination in Charles’s gaze.

“Are you alone?” Marcus asked.

Mordred scoffed. “He’s hardly likely to tell us if he isn’t.”

“That is true, my lord,” Charles agreed. “But as you say, if I wanted to bring about His Majesty’s death, there are enough swords I could steal far easier.”

Uther was silent a moment, then waved to the guards. “Chain him. We’ll deal with the Saxons first, and then I will have the time to think on it.”

“I think you should give me another hour—”

“No,” Uther said immediately and glanced at Mordred as Charles was led away. “I want you rested, and I want scouts and sentries posted. I don’t want to get caught out.”

“We could attack ourselves,” Mordred replied.

“We need to draw them closer. Chasing the Saxons back to their lairs in the dark will just get our men trapped and cut off,” Arthur argued. “The marshes are dangerous enough in the full sun.”

Davidas downed the last of his wine and stood. “Then I am going to bathe and change.” He bowed to his king and beckoned Kay to follow him. “Idiot,” Davidas grumbled as Kay followed him to another tent four along. “Mordred would get us all killed.”

Kay didn’t reply obviously, and as the guard held the tent