Wow. That sounded pretty good, actually, he thought after he had spoken. Maybe he could make this work.

  The burly king gave him a crooked smile. "How could I not come?" he asked with a wink. "Everyone in the land is talking about the miracle boy king. Of course I had to see him for myself!"

  Arthur felt his cheeks heat at this, but forced himself to keep his eyes on the man and not look away. "And now you've seen me. And my court. What do you think?"

  "I think it's quite a merry place, Your Grace," Baldomar replied with a smile. "I will be honest, most of my men didn't agree with my decision to come here. They thought it might be a trap. We came fully expecting we could be met by swords and arrows." He gestured out to the room. "Instead, you feed us and give us respect. It's not something we're used to from the English, if you pardon my saying."

  "Of course," Arthur replied, feeling secretly pleased. His plan was working! "I have no quarrel with you. As long as you keep to your own lands, I think we can agree to live in peace." He paused, then added, "And perhaps even take things a step further, if you're willing."

  "What are you proposing?" Baldomar looked interested.

  "We agree to become allies. Meaning we help one another out. If you need food or medicine, you can call on

  mari mancusi

  us and we will give it to you. Or if we need an army to protect our shores, you will send your vast fleet of ships to lend us aid."

  King Baldomar looked surprised. For a moment he said nothing. Then he nodded slowly. "This is an interesting proposal," he said. "I will think on it this eve. If it pleases you, I will give you my answer tomorrow morning, after I speak with my men."

  "That's fair," Arthur said, just happy Baldomar hadn't laughed in his face at his idea. Kay had claimed the Saxons were barbarians, but they actually seemed quite reasonable. "I will eagerly await your response," he added, then waved his hand. "But for now, please enjoy yourself and the feast. Sit by my side, if you like. You are my personal guest, after all." He gestured to the empty place at his left.

  "I thank you, Your Majesty, but I prefer, I think, to sit with my men. If that's all right with you. They might not like me putting on airs, sitting on stages." He laughed good-naturedly.

  "Oh. Yes, of course," Arthur replied with a grin. "Believe me, I don't like sitting up here much, either. I feel like I should be putting on a show."

  The king laughed again, slapping Arthur on the shoulder. "I like you, boy king," he said. "I think you and I may be able to work something out."

  The king returned to his men at the table, and Arthur turned back to his plate, feeling flushed with pleasure This had gone better than he'd imagined. And in front of the whole court, too. Now everyone could see his plan wasn't as mad as some of them had wanted to make it out to be.

  As he lifted a slice of pheasant to his mouth, he felt eyes at his side. He turned to see Guinevere watching him another strange expression on her face. He cocked his head in question.

  "What?" he asked. "Don't tell me I just did all that with food in my teeth."

  "No." She smiled and shook her head. "No. Your teeth are fine."

  "Then... what is it?"

  She shrugged. "Oh, nothing. I'm just... surprised, I guess. Most kings would not be as generous as you were just now."

  Arthur considered this for a moment. "I suppose not. But then, none of them studied under Merlin."

  Guinevere's smile faded, just for a moment. Arthur wondered why.

  "Do you know Merlin?" he asked.

  "No," she said quickly. Maybe too quickly. "I mean, I've heard of him, obviously. Everyone has. But I've never... had

  mar i" m a n c u s i

  the pleasure... to meet him." Her face looked pinched all of a sudden, as if she smelt something bad.

  "Well, if he ever comes back, I'll introduce you!" Arthur declared. "You'll love him, I promise. He's so smart. And he's an amazing wizard, too. He's taught me everything I know."

  "Does he tell you what to do?" Guinevere asked, suddenly looking very interested. "Like, how to run the land? Does he give you advice? Orders?"

  Arthur frowned, confused at her questioning. "Well, no," he said. "To be honest, I haven't seen or heard from him in ages. Not since before I came to London and pulled the sword from the stone." He hung his head, remembering. "We had a fight, you see. And he flew off to someplace called Bermuda. I wish he'd come back. I don't like doing all this without him. I feel like I'll make a wrong choice or something. And someone will get hurt."

  Guinevere pursed her lips for a moment. "You seem to be doing pretty well without him," she ventured, her voice hesitant. "I mean, all of this" - she gestured to the room - "this was all you, right? Not anything to do with Merlin."

  "I suppose. But—"

  Arthur was interrupted by a sudden commotion in the hall. When he looked out to see what it could be, his jaw dropped in surprise as his eyes fell on Kay, storming up to the stage. His foster brother's eyes were narrowed. And his hands were clenched into fists.

  Arthur's heart quickened, though he wasn't quite sure why. Was his foster brother going to complain about his treaty with the Saxons again? If so, he was choosing a very poor time to do it.

  "Urn, Kay?" Arthur tried as his foster brother stepped up to the table, glaring down at him. If looks could kill, Arthur was quite sure he'd be on the floor. "Is something wrong?"

  Kay scowled. He glanced back at his father, who was watching with far too much interest for Arthur's comfort. Sir Ector waved his hands at his son, urging him on. Kay huffed, then turned back to Arthur.

  "Is something wrong?" Kay growled. "I'll tell you what's wrong. This farce has gone on long enough. You were never meant to be our king."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ARTHUR

  Arthur stared at Kay in shock. Of all the things he'd expected his foster brother to say, this was definitely not one of them.

  "What did you just say?" he asked, trying to keep the tremble from his voice. This was not a time to show weakness. Not with everyone in the kingdom watching. Not to mention the Saxons.

  "I think you heard me, Wart," Kay snarled, spitting out Arthur's nickname as if it were a bad joke. 'You don't deserve to be up here. And you certainly shouldn't be running the kingdom."

  Arthur paled. Oh, no. Not now. Not in front of the Saxons, not when he'd just proposed an alliance.

  He'd known from the start it was possible there would be someone someday who felt the need to challenge his kingship. He was only a child, after all. Untrained in jUst about everything to do with being a king. It made sense that someone would eventually rise up and try to take him down.

  He just hadn't expected it to be his own brother.

  He stole a glance over to the table where the Saxons were sitting. King Baldomar was watching the scene with steely eyes. He did not look pleased. Wonderful.

  "What are you doing?" Arthur asked through clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice as low as possible so no one else could hear. "If you have a problem with me, can we just talk about it later? Privately? At least nol in front of the entire- kingdom and our invited guests?"

  Kay shook his head. "No!" he said loudly. "For this concerns your entire court." He beckoned to the crowded room with his hand. "No one wants to say it, so I will. You are too young to be our king. Why, you haven't even grown your first whiskers yet!" he jeered. As if he himself had some kind of grizzly beard.

  Arthur heard a few nervous laughs from the crowd. It made him want to crawl under the table. Why was Kay doing this? And why now of all times?

  He could feel Guinevere's eyes on him from the side, but couldn't bring himself to look at her. Whatever he said

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  next might change the course of history. And he would be responsible for the outcome.

  "I hate to inform you, brother1 he said stiffly, "but whiskers don't make a king. 1 may be young, but 1 pulled the sword from the stone. And as the prophecy says—I

  His words were cut off by Kays mocking laugh. "The prophecy," he spit out. "England's king was meant to be decided by a tournament. And because you pulled some sword from some stone, 1 never got my chance to compete. Does that seem fair to anyone?" He turned to the crowd, who was still watching the whole thing as if it were some kind of riveting play.

  Sir Ector rose from his seat. "Well, 1 certainly don't think sol" he bellowed, and Arthur cringed as he noticed a few people nodding in agreement. And why not? he thought. To be honest, he himself had never thought it was quite fair. And he'd never asked for it, either. In fact, the last thing he'd wanted was to become king of England. Though he wasn't quite sure dim-witted Kay would fare any better.

  He realised Kay was waiting for an answer.

  "What do vou want from me?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

  "I came to London for a tournament," Kay replied. "And I'm still waiting for my chance to fight." He sneered at Arthur.

  SET IN STONE

  "Face me in single combat. We'll see, once and for all, who's really meant to be king."

  Arthur shallowed hard. He could feel his forehead break out into a cold sweat. Kay wanted to fight him? His brother was ten times bigger than Arthur and probably twenty times stronger. Not to mention he had years of training, whereas Arthur had none.

  Heavenly prophecy or no, if he fought Kay, Arthur would not stand a chance.

  He could feel Guinevere's hand on his arm. "You don't have to do this," she whispered. "Just call your guards. Have them take him away."

  It was a good idea, but Arthur knew it would serve as only a temporary reprieve. Kay would be back, or others would take his place. The gauntlet had been thrown, and he had to prove himself worthy of the throne - or everyone would remain in doubt. The Saxons would think him a coward; They might start thinking twice about the treaty.

  And so Arthur squared his shoulders. Lifted his chin. "Name your time and place," he said simply. "I will answer your challenge."

  There were gasps from the crowd. Kay's smile widened.

  "Excellent," he said. "I knew you'd see reason." He pressed his fists against the table, leaning forwards. So close Arthur could smell his foul breath. "Meet me in the courtyard

  •lie

  MAR! M A N C U 5-1

  tomorrow morning and we shall battle. And to the victor goes the kingdom."

  "I will be there," Arthur replied, hoping he sounded brave. In reality, he was shaking like a leaf.

  Kay smirked, then turned and stormed out of the great hall. As the heavy door swung shut behind him, the court erupted into conversation. : Arthur guessed they would probably be making wagers on the battle - and he assumed most of them would not be in his favour. Not that he blamed them. His odds of beating a trained warrior in hand-to-hand combat were next to nothing, it

  "What were you thinking?" Guinevere, demanded, grabbing his arm. He turned to look at her and realised her face was ashen with fear. "You're never going to win against a man like that!"

  He grimaced. "Thanks for your support."

  "I'm sorry." She hung her hand. "I'm just trying to be sensible." Arthur watched as she inhaled a long breath through her teeth. "Look, maybe,.." she began hesitantly. "Maybeyou should just give him what he wants.'' ''What?" Arthur looked shocked. "Do you really like being king? Being trapped here in this castle, under guard? I saw you out in the forest. You seemed happier there. You... could,go back to that." ; Arthur stared at her. She wasn't wrong - and it was a

  SET I' N H^TFia'SpH

  tempting thought, to say the least. To just walk awav from it all. Get a second chance at a simple life. One where he didn't have to make rules or avoid wars or be responsible for the well-being of people he had never met.

  . And all he would have to do was give up his crown. Which didn't even fit.

  But then his eyes travelled to the Saxon table. They were all watching closely, their faces guarded, but clearly concerned. Arthur remembered his conversation with Kay the week before. His foster brother had called Saxons barbarians. He said they deserved to be destroyed.

  If he backed down now - abdicated the throne - these men, who had come here under his protection and promise of peace, would likely be arrested where they sat. Taken to a dungeon. Maybe even killed.

  All talks of peace would be over.

  The kingdom would erupt into war.

  "I can't," he said sadly. "As much as I might want to. There's too much at stake." He gestured to the Saxons. Guinevere nodded unhappily, as if she'd known this would be his answer all along.

  "You can't sign a peace treaty if you're dead," she said in a low voice.

  He bit his lower lip. "Well, then, I'm just going to have to figure out a way to stay alive."

  ,1-2-0

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  GUINEVERE

  The feast went late into the night, and by the end of it, the Saxons and Englishmen were making merry with one another, dancing and laughing, as if they were long-lost friends. In fact, the only person who didn't look like he was having fun was Arthur himself. Sure, he. tried to keep a brave face, but Guinevere could see the traces of fear in his eyes that he couldn't quite hide. And she couldn't help feeling sorry for him. She was convinced, at this point, he didn't know about the evil Merlin had done; he'd been tricked into thinking he was meant to be king. Which made her quest a lot more difficult. She knew he still needed to be brought down, but she didn't want him to get hurt in the process. If only he'd just

  given up the throne - walked away from it all when he had the chance...

  But he wouldn't, she realised, He felt responsible for the people of England. He hadn't been king long, but he cared about the realm and his chance at peace. He had all the instincts of a good leader, even if he wasn't meant to sit on the throne.

  Eventually she left the feast to retire to her humble little bedroom down the hall from the kitchens. She was just about to take off her itchy gown and replace it with a soft night garment when she heard a scratching at her window. She pulled open the wooden shutters (servants, of course, didn't get real glass windows like kings did) and found a little purple squirrel on the other side, twitching its nose at her.

  She raised an eyebrow. "Mother?" she whispered. "Is that you?"

  Not that she had much doubt in the matter. The purple rather gave it away.

  As the squirrel hopped up onto the windowsill, Guinevere ran to lock her door. Then she headed back to the window, scooped up the squirrel in her arms, and took it over to her bed. A moment later there was a quick poof, and the squirrel disappeared, replaced by Mim.

  "Ugh. I hate squirrels," Mim grumped, brushing off her

  M A R I MAN g US I

  muddy dress with her hands. "They're so dirty and smelly. Rats with bushy tails, that's all they are."

  Guinevere nodded dutifully, even though she was quite fond of squirrels herself.

  "What are you doing here, Mother?" she asked, trying not to notice all the dirt and mud flakes landing on her bed as her mother continued to shake out her dress. Why had Mim felt the need to use magic instead of just coming through the front door like a normal person?

  "Why, I'm here to see you, of course! I missed you, my dear! It's so dreadfully boring in the cottage without you dancing around all the time! I even had to play card games by myself! Which I won, of course! You do get such a better chance of winning when you play both sides of the table!" She giggled.

  Guinevere couldn't help a small smile. She hadn't realised how much she'd missed her mother's silly banter. "I'm glad you're here," she* assured her. "Only it's very late at night. I would think you would want to wait till morning"

  Mim waved her off. "Sleep is for the weak. And I couldn't wait. Not when I heard the news!" | "The... news?" So much had happened that night, ' Guinevere was at a loss as to what her mother might be referring to. Did she mean the Saxon treaty? Sir Kay's challenge to Arthur?

  s e t i n s t o n e

  "The whole town is buzzing about it," clucked. "The mysterious blonde girl in the blue dress who danced through court like an angel and dined like royalty with the king himself:" She gave Guinevere a meaningful look. "It seems you've been enjoying yourself, my dear."

  "Oh. That." Guinevere stared down at her feet, feeling sheepish. "Yes, Arthur invited me to dinner tonight. I, uh, thought it would be a good chance for me to spy on him, as you asked me to."

  "Indeed, my pet!" Mim looked positively gleeful. "Earn his trust and friendship, and then - pow! Off with his head!" She cackled loudly. "I mean, not literally, of course," she added as she caught Guin's horrified look. She leant in closer. Her eyebrows waggled. "So tell dear Mother, what have you learnt about our boy king? Anything useful we can use against him?"

  Guinevere opened her mouth to speak, but strangely nothing came out. Instead, she felt a weird shimmer of unease waft through her stomach. She had plenty to tell Mim from her day with Arthur. So why was she suddenly, feeling reluctant to share it?

  "Well, come on, girl!" Mim scolded. "We don't have all night!" She puffed up her wild purple hair with her hands. "I need my beauty sleep, you know! I mean, not

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  that I'm not perfectly lovely as I am..." she added, preening at her reflection in Guinevere's water basin,

  "Sorry," Guinevere mumbled, She forced herself to straighten her shoulders and draw in a deep breath before giving her report. "The Saxons arrived tonight and dined with the king. Arthur presented his idea of a peace treaty, and they're going to tell him tomorrow whether they want to sign it."

  "Bah!" Mim spit on the floor. "This was exactly what I was afraid of."