The Darkest Knight (Guardians of Camelot #3) - Victoria Sue Page 0,48

rested his sword across Daisy’s withers, another horse rode near. When he saw who sat astride plus who accompanied him, Kay straightened up in shock and dipped his head in acknowledgement of the king.

“You are a page,” Uther said. “A boy with no experience and joined us two days ago, yet you fought with a bravery both belying your age and your experience. I have just learned of Davidas’s death and know he would have sponsored you.”

Kay blinked. Not exactly true. Sponsoring meant becoming a knight. Davidas wanted to take him home.

“You are now in my service,” Uther continued. “I am glad to know you. Servant, knight, or friend.”

Kay stared in astonishment as Uther urged his horse to walk on amidst the cheering from his men. A shadow fell on him. It was Marcus.

“Let’s get you fed.” He smiled.

He looked over toward the marshes where he had left Charles. The injured were being helped, and Kay knew he couldn’t approach Charles and draw attention to him, and he still had to get the sword. He followed Marcus back to the tents, and they both dismounted. Servants rushed up to take the horses, but Kay wanted to see to Daisy himself. He owed the horse, and he owed Davidas.

“Good,” Marcus acknowledged when he told him. “Come to the main tent when you are done. I know the king wants you there. You will be given a page and your own servants.” Marcus held his arm out. “Well met…”

“Kaylen,” Kay supplied.

Kay took the horses over to where they were tethered and glanced up at a shout. Some other servant he didn’t recognize was yelling at a stable boy. The boy didn’t look more than eight, but perhaps his age was hidden under the bruises stark on his too-thin frame. “You useless piece of shite,” the bully yelled. “Every single piece of leather is worth more than you.” He raised his hand, and the boy cowered.

“What seems to be the problem?” Kay interrupted.

The servant turned, taking in Kay’s rough appearance, but then he noticed Daisy and clearly recognized her. “I’ll take his lordship’s mare,” the man said, rushing forward eagerly, knocking into the boy, who went sprawling in the dirt.

“I can manage her,” Kay said, trying to sound sympathetic. “You seem to have your hands full.”

The man shook his head. “He’s a lazy, good-for-nothing waste of space. Dropped the harness in the muck instead of caring for it properly. I already caught him asleep before he had finished his work, but not to worry—he won’t be getting anything to eat until he finishes his tasks.” The man laughed, obviously thinking he was impressing Kay. “And I’m sure I can find a few extra.”

Kay nodded and glanced at the boy, who simply looked resigned. He wondered how long it had taken the man to put that look in his eyes. Like he knew he wouldn’t get any better, so he stopped expecting it. He recognized that look even though it had been many years since it was in his own eyes. “What’s your name?” The boy’s eyes widened, and the man opened his mouth, but Kay’s raised hand indicated he was to stay silent.

“Petey, sir. I-I mean your lordship.”

Kay smiled. “I’m no one’s lord, but I have need of my own page.” He looked at the bully, who was gaping like a fish. “As the boy is making so many mistakes, I will take him off your hands.”

“But—”

“If you doubt my authority to order such a thing, I suggest you take it up with the king, who just granted me sponsorship.”

The man’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and Kay watched in satisfaction as he stumbled trying to beat a hasty retreat. Kay turned his attention to the boy. “Come on, Petey. I will help you settle Daisy, then we’ll go get you fed.”

“Get your lazy arse over here.”

Kay turned at the coarse shout just in time to see an older woman snarl and reach out with what seemed like clawed fingers and grab Petey by the scruff of his neck. Her right hand raised to slap him, but Kay was quicker, and the woman gasped in shock as he grabbed her wrist.

Kay let her go in sudden and instant revulsion. It was the woman from the park. The one who had turned into an Ursus, but younger, a good twenty, thirty years younger than in the park, and this time with no tattoo.

“Aggie, the young sir is ’avin’ ’im,” the bully warned.