“You care very much for the boy who will be king.”

Emry considered denying it before she realized the Lady already saw what was in her head. “Too much,” she admitted. “I don’t know how much longer I can lie to him. To everyone.”

“Your truth will reveal itself. The right moment will come soon enough. And so will the wrong one.”

Emry almost snorted. It was like talking to living, breathing tea leaves.

“Before you shed your disguise, you must protect Arthur from those who would stand against him,” the Lady went on.

“How, my Lady?” Emry pressed.

“The how I cannot see. Nor the whom. Even the future keeps its secrets,” said the Lady. “Arthur has the potential to become a great king, but he does not know his value. Compassion is his greatest strength. The king who rules with an iron fist exerts his own will, not the will of his people.”

“Do you mean King Uther?” Emry asked.

“Uther exerts no will at all. Soon he will fade into obscurity. But Arthur is destined for greatness.” The Lady’s eyes flickered, going momentarily white. It was almost as though they had filled with mist. “You will return here together. There will be blood and sorrow and pain.”

Emry stared at the Lady, unnerved. But the Lady didn’t seem to realize she’d said anything.

They had reached the dock. The boat was waiting, along with a yawning, tousle-haired Arthur, who had an unfamiliar sword belted around his waist, and looked extremely ready to get the hell out of Avalon.

CHAPTER 19

Arthur fiddled absently with his magic scabbard as they sailed away from the Isle of the Blessed. He still didn’t know what to make of the visions he’d had in the tomb. They unsettled him, deeply. And he didn’t feel as though he’d gained any knowledge by coming here. If anything, he had even more questions.

The Lady of the Lake had confirmed his greatest fear: That it was no mistake he’d pulled the sword from the stone. That this High King business was real.

Which was terrifying. But not unexpected. At least, not after what he’d experienced in the tomb. He was just now coming to terms with what it meant to one day become King of Camelot. With all of the ways his future belonged to the kingdom, to be spent in its best interest.

And he had a terrible suspicion that best interest was war. Because what use were a magic sword and scabbard except to kill people? The stories he knew of Excalibur were of great battles won, or horrible monsters slain. Excalibur and its scabbard were the sword and sheath of a killer who couldn’t be killed in return.