Most of them, at least.
Landon’s family seat in the Camelot Society had been a blessing and a curse. He gained a place among the Knightsat Camelot Court, but at the same time, he shouldered the reputation of his ancestors. He understood how one word—traitor—could shape a person’s future and alter the course of their life for generations to come.
It was why I’d always favored him.
Why it needed to be him.
But first, I had to figure out why he had just burst into my bedroom when he should’ve been in the Round Tableau getting to know Quinn.
“Landon?”
Panting, he stood in the doorway. His hands clenched the frame, and the set of his jaw had me rising from my chair. Taking in his disheveled appearance and the slightly manic gleam in his eyes, I crossed the room quickly.
Something had happened—something bad.
Because Landon Scott, the definition of control and order, looked as if he’d gone mad.
“What’s wrong?” I grabbed his shoulders. “What happened? Where’s Quinn?”
He glared at me, seething as he hissed through his teeth. “She’s here for you.”
His accusation—while undeniably true—startled me. Not only because the realization had shocked him, but because of the ire in his voice when he spoke to me. I stepped back, straightening my spine and standing in front of him as his King—not just his best friend.
“Is that a problem?”
He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief.
It was a problem. That surprised me.
“You brought her here so I could guide her through The Quest. So she’d win and be the next Queen? Because of one word on her application. That’s what you said to me, right?”
He stepped farther into the room, going past me and pacing the floor in front of my bed. I watched him and chose my words carefully.
“Yes, that’s what I said to you.”
He growled, turning an accusing finger in my direction. “What word?”
“You should know what word.”
He barked out a laugh, though it was clear he found nothing about this situation amusing. I echoed the sentiment. Watching him unravel over a clearly strategic move called every one of my plans for him and the future of Camelot Court into question.
“Is that why you didn’t tell me? Because you thought I’d figure it out on my own or because you knew I’d refuse you if I did?” He pierced me with his stare and his next words. “There’s nothing honorable about what you’re asking me to do.”
My eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I won’t do it. I refuse.”
“Landon, what is it you think I’m asking you to do? Get to know her? Gain her trust? Show her the ways of Camelot Court—the pressure, the expectations and the demands. Show her who you really are?” I threw my hands in the air. “Pray tell. What about that is so dishonorable?”
“Pick someone else.” He wouldn’t look at me, his voice pleading—desperate. “Pick anyone else. I can’t do this.”
“You can and you will,” I said sharply. But when his eyes shot to mine, filled with pain and betrayal, I gentled my tone. “You’re the only one I trust, Landon.”
“But she?—”
“She isexactlywhat Camelot Court needs.”
“And what you want,” he fired back, agitating the strands of his hair. He ran his hands over his scalp. “How convenient.”