Somehow, without his noticing, Lance and Merlin had dropped back, letting him ride through the castle gates alone. He wished he’d asked the wizard to do that clothes-cleaning trick. But too late now. The fanfare had done its job: courtiers were streaming curiously into the courtyard to witness his arrival.

Well, he was returning from a great quest. One that had lasted longer than expected, thanks to the strange progression of time on Avalon. It was only just occurring to him that anyone might have begun to worry. After all, it wasn’t as though his father’s court had much confidence in his abilities.

Arthur sighed and tried to brush the dirt from his rumpled traveler’s clothes. He had just twisted round to signal to the wizard to do the thing when his skin began to itch, and the wrinkles disappeared from his tunic, replaced by an over-strong scent of cloves.

Merlin smirked, pleased. Arthur shook his head. The wizard had made him smell like a church altar.

As they entered the inner courtyard, King Uther burst through the castle doors, his advisors and their families not far behind.

“My son,” cried the king, a little too loudly, “I’m relieved to see you returned safely home!”

Sard, was his father drunk? Lord Agravaine gripped the king’s elbow, his lips tamped into a disapproving frown as King Uther staggered forward.

Definitely drunk.

Which was either going to make this better, or so much worse. Arthur was thinking worse. Gawain stood off to the side, a bored smirk on his lips. His coat was ridiculous, crimson velvet with ornate balloon sleeves, and his embroidered velvet heels were even more absurd. At his side was the arrogant Sir Kay, a cloth tucked into his collar to protect his doublet from food splatter.

He’d interrupted supper, he realized. The king had risen from the table, causing the entire hall to empty out.

Maybe it was better this way, Arthur told himself. Excalibur was meant to be a spectacle, and for a spectacle, you needed an audience.

“Father,” he said, dismounting his horse. A groom materialized, leading the beast to the stables.

“I trust your journey went well?” said the king.

“Very.” Arthur dropped to a knee at his father’s feet, well aware of their sizable audience. “I’ve returned with a great prize.”

He unsheathed the glowing blade, which lit the darkened courtyard as though it was suddenly the afternoon.

“Behold, the sword Excalibur,” said Arthur, laying the blade flat across his palms. He bowed his head and lifted the sword.

The courtiers gasped, whispering amongst themselves as a ripple of excitement passed through the crowd.

King Uther stared at the sword in disbelief, and even his advisors looked shocked. Lord Agravaine’s mouth had fallen open, and Lord Howell’s expression was even more incredulous.