Arthur insisted that the safest place for Lila to bunk down for the night was between himself and Emrys. Some of the knights snickered, and Emrys looked long-suffering this time, but he let Lila have one of his blankets. Between Emrys’s blanket, Sir Safir’s cloak, and the warm fire Emrys had practically conjured from nowhere, Lila was sure she’d be comfortable enough to sleep well. She hoped she’d wake up back in the 21st century.

Instead, she was awakened by someone shoving her shoulder roughly. Blond hair, blue eyes – Arthur. He shoved a sword at her, and then he moved through the shadows to shake Emrys awake. Lila gripped the sword and levered herself up into a crouch, scanning the darkness. The fire had faded to dim embers hours ago, and Lila could see her own breath on the air.

“Here,” Emrys whispered, thrust his hauberk at her. Lila squirmed into it quickly.

“What’s going on?” she hissed.

Sir Tor slithered through the grass to crouch beside her. “Hengist’s men. Survivors from yesterday’s skirmish.”

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