Lila thought Lancelot’s presence meant they were near Caerleon, but she was wrong, because one moment she was wincing at Sir Tor’s recount of her battle prowess, and the next Emrys was waking her up by wiggling his shoulder blades because she’d fallen asleep against his back and had drooled on his tabard.

“She may be battle-fierce, but she is still a lady,” Arthur said, gently amused.

Lila blinked muzzily and saw that the sun was just peeking over the tops of the wattle-and-daub huts. In the distance a castle reared up above the rest of the skyline, and Lila started, sat up straighter. This was it, then. Camelot.

“Come, Lady Lila,” Bors said, and lifted her down, set her on her feet. “We are near enough the palace that the ladies of the court will cease worrying. Of course, the Queen will be waiting for her lord, so he must ride on, but we may rest here with the serfs. Someone will send for us later.”

“Later?” a woman asked.

The knights jumped, spun around. Then they all bowed.

“Queen Guinevere!”