And it felt so different now that he’d had to fight for it. Now that he knew how hard it was to stay awake through a night’s watch, or to stand all day in the snow guarding the castle gates. Before, even though his page’s duties were tough, his had still been a life of chivalry and feasts.

Sir Kay would be a hard master. The knight was impatient and exacting. But Lance couldn’t deny that he was the best. And to learn from the best, he’d gladly pay any price.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Lance said, sinking into a bow. “I can’t thank you enough. This is—”

“Leave me,” ordered the king, picking up his goblet of wine.

Lance and Arthur beat a hasty retreat, and when the doors to the king’s chambers were safely behind them, Lancelot slid down, his back against the castle wall, and put his head in his hands.

“What just happened?” he whispered.

“I believe you’ve been made a squire,” said Arthur.

Lance shook his head, still in shock. “I won’t have to sleep in the barracks. Or dine in the guard’s mess. Or stand duty at the gate.”

Arthur shot him a grin.

“Just think of all the extra time you’ll have to hang out with me in the library.”

For a moment, Lance thought he was serious. And then Arthur laughed.

Strangely, Lance realized that he was going to miss it. Well, parts of it. His friends. But it wasn’t as though he couldn’t still see them.

For the past few years, it had seemed that, no matter what he did, he was destined to be left behind. That his friendship with Arthur would only grow more awkward and impossible as time dragged on. After all, what king had a guard as his closest confidant? Yet the thought of Arthur knighting him had always given him pause. He didn’t want to be seen as someone who had traded royal favor for a position he hadn’t earned.

But this—King Uther announcing his reinstatement, and the opportunity to squire for the king’s champion—it was beyond anything he had hoped for. And the worst part was, it was what he should have had all along.

“Sir Lancelot,” Arthur said, slanting his friend a proud look. “It has rather a nice ring to it.”

CHAPTER 41

A tavern brawl. Arthur couldn’t believe it. That good-for-nothing wizard had gotten into a fistfight with a sailor and his crew over an impossible hand of aces. And he hadn’t even wiped the smirk—or the blood—off his face before turning up at Arthur’s rooms, asking if he had any spare healing salve.