The palace was little more then a motte-and-bailey keep set atop the village, but out-buildings had turned the courtyard into a thriving community. Emrys rode back to the palace with them – Lila was perched on the back of the queen’s horse for propriety – and as soon as they arrived Emrys, Arthur, and Lancelot were swallowed up by a group of frantic advisors in robes.

Guinevere led Lila toward an outbuilding that, upon investigation, housed the palace handmaidens.

“Arthur tells me you’ve some skill with a sword,” Guinevere said.

“Some,” Lila said, and was struck by the memory of a man falling dead at her feet.

“I admire you for learning a skill most women would not.” Guinevere gestured to one of the handmaidens, who brought forth a simple but expensive green dress. “Now that you’re safe, you don’t have to wear those hideous page clothes.”

“Thank you, My Lady,” Lila said, and fumbled a curtsey.

“It is fortunate the only lady the men met on the road was you and not Morgana or Morgause instead.”