Actual battle was both terrifying and boring, terrifying because Lila could hear the infantrymen screaming in the distance as they were run through, boring because all she could do was hang back behind Arthur’s horse, clutching the Pendragon pennant and waiting for his signal.

When the signal came, Lila’s world turned into a blur. One moment she was watching their infantry line crumble under Mordred’s cavalry, the next her destrier was springing forward with a whinny like a shriek. Arthur led the charge, his sword held high and gleaming in the morning light. Somewhere between standstill and full gallop, Lila had the presence of mind to switch the pennant to her off hand and draw her sword.

She didn’t even know it when she killed the first man, swinging wildly at the fray. She knew it when blood sprayed across her face, when Emrys shouted his king’s name, and Arthur started to topple from Hengroen. Lila reached his side first, Emrys second, and lightning ripped across the sky.

“Take him,” Emrys said.