“You could have not pretended to be mortally wounded,” Merlin retorted. “I can’t help the itching. I’m only an apprentice, you know. Some things are beyond my power.”

“Like riding a horse?” Arthur suggested.

“Gahhhh!” the wizard roared.

The three of them didn’t stop laughing until they reached the inn.

CHAPTER 20

The last gasp of daylight was fading into darkness as they approached the gates of Castle Camelot. Arthur had been trying to slow his horse ever since the city walls had come into view, but it was no use delaying the inevitable.

He was home. His quest was over, and his freedom was dwindling fast. Princess Guinevere would be arriving at the castle within days. And he doubted he could conjure up another good excuse to spend a week riding horses, playing cards, and drinking ale with Merlin and Lance.

Beside him, Lance let out a sigh, as though he wasn’t much looking forward to their return, either.

Arthur slanted his friend a knowing look. “End of the road,” he said sadly.

Lance groaned. “Don’t remind me. Tomorrow I’ll be back to running drills at sunrise.”

“And I’ll be back to sleeping in my own bed and riding no horses,” Merlin announced gleefully.

Arthur glared. “Aren’t wizards supposed to be all about magical quests?”

“I like what I like. Besides, I miss coffee.”

Arthur shook his head.

Wizards.

Or maybe just this one.

Ahead of them, Brannor said something to Dakin. Both guards’ posture straightened as they proudly urged their horses toward the castle’s outer gates.

Please, no, Arthur thought, realizing a moment too late what they meant to do.

“Make way!” Brannor announced loudly. “For His Royal Highness Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot!”

The gate guards snapped to attention, banging their halberds. From deep within the courtyard, a trumpet blared.

Arthur winced. “Did they have to?” he muttered. He’d been hoping they could slip around the back and avoid the literal fanfare.

“I know, I’m desperate for a piss,” said Lance, fidgeting.

“You’re the one who told them about Aunt Matilda,” Arthur accused.

“It was an accident!” Lance protested.

“They were bound to notice,” added Merlin. “The sword has a vibe. Also, it glows.”

Arthur supposed the wizard was right. Still, he wished his guards hadn’t reacted quite so strongly.

At first sight of the legendary blade, Brannor had taken a knee, attempting to pledge fealty on the spot. Arthur had urged the old guard to please get up, but ever since, Brannor had been taking his job far too seriously. Dakin, meanwhile, kept shooting the sword anxious looks, as though unnerved by its presence.

At least the quest had been a success, Arthur reminded himself. He was returning home with Excalibur. He’d never gotten something right before. Not on purpose.