Page 70 of Enchanted Warrior

“No. Nothing that simple, I’m afraid.” Gawain straightened as Arthur mounted the steps of the stands, a perplexed look on his face. Gawain knew the expression. It was the look of a medieval warrior seeing Medievaland for the first time. Forcing his pain deep out of sight, he gave a sympathetic smile as Arthur reached their bench.

“This place is very,” the king began, turning back for another look, “um, cheerful.”

“It grows on you,” Beaumains offered. “You should try the corn dogs.”

But Arthur turned back, serious now. “We have a future to plan. I understand from Hector that Angmar of Corin has been taken into hiding by his allies.”

Beaumains nodded. “They came and got him yesterday.”

Arthur gripped Excalibur’s hilt. “The rebel fae have offered to provide for our needs until we gather our brothers. We must act quickly. Mordred may be gone, but Queen LaFaye will demand vengeance for his death.”

Gawain had barely finished one mission, and Arthur was already looking ahead. But that forward push was part of what made the king a great general. No one caught him napping.

“What about the witches?” Beaumains asked. “Should we not be winning them to our side? They could be powerful friends in this war.”

Arthur appeared to consider, and then shook his head. “Not after Merlin.”

“Sire,” said Gawain, opting for the formal title this time, “you saw what happened with Mordred? I used my power to kill him. I did not even need Excalibur.”

Arthur cast him an assessing glance. “Those were extreme circumstances.”

“I can’t guarantee I won’t do it again,” Gawain replied. “I carry witch’s blood in my veins.”

Arthur folded his arms, his brows knit in concern. “Is this the effect of keeping company with Hector and his daughter?”

Gawain hid a flinch at the mention of Tamsin. “Consider what they’ve done for you.”

“I have. I’m certain that Hector has shown me more grace than I deserve, and we have repaired our friendship. I was a fool when I sent him from my side.”

Gawain seized that concession. Despite his own private struggles, he understood now that magic was a weapon the new Camelot would require. Arthur had to keep the witches safe in the coming war—and realize how badly he needed them. “Hector’s daughter sacrificed her own interests to save us from Mordred’s dungeon. She has healed our wounds, taken us to find you, and shown more courage than half your knights. Hector and Tamsin are proof that with a good heart, magic can be turned to good ends.”

Beaumains gave him a look filled with curiosity, but said nothing.

Gawain was arguing for a better Camelot. He was saying what should have been said centuries ago, opening Arthur’s mind even as he struggled to adapt to this new view himself. “We can’t afford to divide ourselves because of our differences. We should unite because of what binds us together—friendship, justice, and a safe place to love and raise children free of the horrors of conflict.”

The king shook his head. “Merlin believed all that, and yet he still failed us.”

“He proved that one man can’t solve the world’s problems by himself. He refused to take advice. Blame his pride, not what he was.”

For a long moment, Arthur turned away to survey the bright madness of Medievaland. “I suppose this is all because you’re in love with the witch?”

Gawain rose and came to stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder as he had done on a hundred battlefields. “I love her, but no. I’m saying this because I’m your friend as well as your loyal servant. I’m saying it for the fae, who need a cure for Merlin’s blunder, and for the witches, who need to break free of their fear. You need new allies with a variety of strengths, including magic.”

Arthur’s face creased in disbelief. “But you hate magic. You’ve hated it since the first time you came to my court.”

“That’s the part you can blame Tamsin for. She made me reconsider.” Gawain turned and nodded to Beaumains. “Though it took a wise brother to help me apply the same logic to myself.”

With a weary snort, Arthur clapped a hand to Gawain’s shoulder. “They call you Silver Tongue for good cause.”

The three knights stood together, pondering the beginnings of the new Camelot. It would work, Gawain decided, because Arthur was willing to grow. In the end, the king wouldn’t turn away valuable alliances, and he certainly wouldn’t turn his back on his friends. He would lead them the way he had in that long-ago campaign to unite the petty kingdoms of Albion—from the heart. That was why they would win again.

Gawain nodded. “I have always been your man, old world or new.”

“I know,” said the king. “I thank the saints and devils that you are at my side. Now go to your witch and thank her properly for healing you.”

“Healing me,” said Gawain. “Indeed, sire, truer words were never spoken.”

Hector slammedWaller into the wall of Tamsin’s apartment. “Start explaining.”

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