“Guinevere, Guinevere,
My heart, my love, my dear,
These men are just jealous
For life without you is hellish!”
The men booed.
“Can’t boo a king!” Arthur scoffed.
“In Sherwood Forest, we boo any prat who deserves it, especially kings,” said the leader of the pack, boyish and muscular, with strawberry-blond hair and a dashing smile. Robin Hood, Tedros realized, handsome as ever, carrying young Arthur towards the Arrow.
“It’s your last night as a single man, Arthur!” Robin crowed. “Better make good use of it!”
Tedros smiled, seeing his dad and Robin alive and together, a lump rising in the prince’s throat . . . Agatha pulled him towards the pub. “Come on. Must be a reason we’re here.”
Together, they piled into the Arrow. A boisterous party was at its peak, a dozen women to every sweaty, red-faced man, servers splashing beer and tipping plates of chicken wings, all those present chanting “LION! LION!” as soon as they spotted the king. A band of Sherwood fairies streamed through the window playing a jaunty tune on willow violins, whereby three Merry Men took to tabletops, danced a jig, and promptly fell off, before two more swung from the cheap chandelier with the same result. A gaggle of women crowded around a young Maid Marian in the corner, who gave Robin a cheeky grin, as if at once happy to see him and warning him away from other girls. He saluted Marian across the bar, like an obedient soldier.
“Sheriff was in here earlier,” one of the servers whispered to Robin. “Thought he was here to make trouble, but he wanted to talk to Marian.”
“About what?”
“Tried to listen in. Something about Marian going to visit her folks for a few months in Ginnymill?”
“Maidenvale. And yeah, I know. Leaving next week. Wait. Few months? Didn’t tell me that. What else?”
“Sheriff said he wanted to visit her there.”
Robin laughed. “Get your hearing checked, mate.”
He strutted into the mob and swung an arm around Arthur, who was dancing poorly, a chicken wing in his mouth. Robin nodded towards Marian’ friends. “Fine flock of women, Your Highness.”
But Arthur wasn’t looking at them. He was eyeing a woman at the bar, sitting alone, near a couple of brown-hooded Merry Men. A woman with long hair, tan skin, and a lavender dress. Arthur’s face tightened. “Excuse me,” he said, heading over to her.
Robin shrugged. “Bring him a pub full of women and what do you know, goes for the one he already knows.”
Tedros and Agatha were already huddling behind Arthur as he sat beside Lady Gremlaine, the prince and his princess listening close in the raucous pub.
“What are you doing here, Grisella?” Arthur asked.
His steward couldn’t look at him, her hand gripping a full glass of cider.
Arthur exhaled. “I’m assuming you followed me—”
She spun to face him, splashing her glass. “It’s been three months, Arthur. Three months you haven’t said a word to me. Every night I listen for the knock from the guest room and it never comes. And you won’t talk to me when you see me in the castle. What was I supposed to do?”
Arthur drank from her cider. “Forgive me if I haven’t come knocking, Grisella. I don’t especially feel like going into that room.”
“I know you hate me,” said Lady Gremlaine, reddening. “I know you’d have me jailed or punished or killed if you could without Guinevere finding out what I’ve done. That’s why you’re avoiding me. You’re trying to shame me out of the castle. To force me to run away. But I won’t. Not without trying to repair things between us.”
“I don’t hate you, Grisella. I just don’t know what to say to you,” said Arthur. He paused, looking at his hands. “There’s no ill will. I’m nothing but grateful. You’ve been my friend since I was six years old. When I was Wart and you were my Grizzle-Grazzle. You know me as I really am: flawed, restless, impetuous . . . and yet you never make me feel unworthy of my new place. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t feel at home in that castle. I wouldn’t feel like myself, let alone a king. And if it wasn’t for you, that Sader witch would be pregnant with my heir, instead of deep in the Woods, wherever my guards dumped her. Told her if she came within a hundred miles of Camelot, she’d be shot full of arrows at first sight. Put out word to the Kingdom Council that she wasn’t to be allowed in their lands either. Quite quickly Evelyn Sader discovered she’s no longer welcome in these Woods. Hasn’t been seen since.”
“But I was the one who brought Evelyn in! It was me who wanted to use that spell!” said Lady Gremlaine. “I wanted your child, Arthur. I was in love with you.”
“And it’s my fault that you were,” Arthur sighed. “Because I loved you too.”
Grisella stared at him. “What?”
“Boys are just better at hiding it,” Arthur said wryly. “I loved you before I even knew what love was. Maybe because deep down, you and I are the same: perfectly happy with a small, ordinary life, and yet fated for a life that’s neither of those things. Why do you think I wrote you every week during my years at school? Because you remind me of who I used to be and who I can’t be anymore. The real Arthur. You don’t know how much I missed you while I was gone, Grisella. How much I missed our old days, before I ever pulled that sword from the stone. Perhaps you sensed my love in those letters, because I sensed yours, growing stronger and stronger, and yet I kept writing you back—” A beer mug shattered somewhere, followed by a chorus of boos. Arthur took a deep breath. “But then I returned with Guinevere as my wife-to-be. How confused you must have been. Nearly four years of letters. Nearly four years of waiting for me. And then I arrive at the castle with a pretty, strong-willed Evergirl, who insults you in front of your staff at your very first meeting. No wonder you hated her. No wonder you hated each other. She must have known there were feelings between us. But it’s neither her fault, nor yours. It’s my fault for not telling you the truth.”
“That you love her more,” Grisella said starkly. “That you don’t love me as you thought you did.”
“That I can’t love you,” the young king contended. “Now I’m the King of Camelot. The leader of our world. Whoever I marry doesn’t belong to me. She belongs to all the Woods. A queen who must play the part. A queen for the people.”
“Which isn’t me,” Grisella admitted.
“Which isn’t you,” Arthur agreed. “Guinevere is from the right family, the right upbringing. She was top of our class at the School for Good. You should have seen the way Everboys looked at her, Lancelot included. Everyone knew Gwen was meant to be a queen. I had to make her mine. Especially since there’s a good many people who aren’t sure of me as king. But with Guinevere, I look the part . . . like I deserved to pull Excalibur from the stone. Marrying her means I can start my reign the right way. She’s who my kingdom needs. She’s who I need.”
“And do you love her?” Lady Gremlaine asked.
“With her, I believe I’m a king,” Arthur answered.
Grisella teared up.