Emrys released the other knights from the spell. They stumbled blearily, shaking their heads as if to clear them. Then they turned and bowed to Arthur and Emrys both.

“What course now, My Liege?” Sir Bedwyr asked.

Arthur looked at Emrys.

Emrys looked at Lila. “Lady Lila is ill. We need not fight on. Perhaps we shall ride?”

Lila flinched when Arthur turned to look at her; something in his eyes was frighteningly intense.

“Are you ill?” he asked.

“She killed one of the men,” Sir Tor said. “She was very brave for a lady.”

Arthur reached out and lifted her chin; she could feel the stickiness of blood on his glove, smell death on his fingertips. Her stomach roiled once more.

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” Arthur said. He waved to Emrys. “Free the horses. We ride. When we reach Caerleon, we send word to Lady Lila’s father.”

This time it was Emrys who helped Lila onto the horse. He sat behind her, one arm around her waist, and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Messengers won’t find your father, will they?”