The Camelot Betrayal (Camelot Rising 2)

What she got was worse. Sir Tristan listened with compassion and understanding, but forced Brangien to face the violence of her intentions. Isolde had already had her choices stripped away, and Brangien had decided to take away even her ability to love who she chose.

Brangien was ready to throw herself overboard, but Sir Tristan held her. He swore he would do whatever it took to protect Isolde, and Brangien, as well. He would help them find a way to be happy. And, in an act of supreme generosity, he promised not to tell Isolde what Brangien had intended to do.

They were bonded by secrecy and united in determination to protect Isolde. They stayed up late into the night, making plans to sneak Isolde to freedom as soon as they landed.

Unbeknownst to them, someone else stayed up late into the night, listening. When they landed, King Mark was there with a contingent of men. He condemned Brangien and Sir Tristan to death for conspiring against him. Isolde threw herself at his feet, weeping, begging for their lives as her wedding gift. King Mark granted it, banishing Sir Tristan and Brangien.

Brangien’s plotting and magic, Sir Tristan’s bravery, both amounted to nothing. In the end, Isolde had saved them and condemned herself with her kindness.

Brangien wiped her eyes. “After that, we ran. Tristan knew King Mark’s forgiveness was only for show and that he would send men to kill us. Sir Tristan did not have to help me any more than he already had. I destroyed his life. But he stayed with me and we ended up in Camelot.”

Sir Tristan put an arm around Brangien. “You did not destroy my life. I was knight to a king I could neither respect nor trust. And now I am knight to the greatest king in Christendom. If anything, you saved me. I am only sorry we could not save Isolde.”

Guinevere understood why Brangien was ashamed to tell the story. It reminded her of Merlin. Taking another’s free will was an act of tremendous violence. Brangien had been motivated by love, but she was no better than the wizard had been, even if he had been motivated by the good of mankind.

But people are more than their worst impulses. And Guinevere herself was not innocent. She had manipulated Sir Bors’s memories to protect a dragon. She had killed the possessed wolves to save herself. And she had released herself to magic and killed Sir Maleagant and his men.

The memory of their bones snapping as the trees devoured them haunted her. She felt repulsion and horror now, but the worst part was at the time she had felt nothing. She would never again view human life as a means to an end, or as a price worth paying. That was what Merlin had done with Igraine, Arthur’s mother. There was always another way. There had to be. Even if they had ultimately failed, at least Brangien and Sir Tristan had tried to find that better way to protect Isolde.

Arthur’s brow was furrowed in a deep frown. “Brangien and Isolde love each other…as a man and a woman love each other?”

“Yes,” Brangien said. She held herself as an aspirant in the arena, braced for a blow.

It did not come. Arthur still looked vaguely confused, but there was no judgment in his expression. “I am sorry you lost her. And I am even sorrier for this news.”

No. Guinevere refused to allow this to happen. Isolde had done nothing wrong. She had lost everything to protect Brangien and Sir Tristan. She deserved to be protected in turn. And Guinevere would not see Brangien’s already broken heart irreparably damaged.

There was so much suffering in the world. So much that Guinevere had been involved in, directly or by association. Merlin’s deeds hung on her like chains. Daughter or not, she was linked to him, and therefore linked to the terrible things he had done. She could not go back in time and save Igraine, or protect anyone else he had hurt, or even prevent him from doing whatever he had to her mind that ripped away her past, her mother, her self. All Guinevere could do was move forward and do as much good in this world as she could manage.

“Did you ever get to go on a quest, Sir Tristan?” Guinevere asked. Brangien looked confused by the change in subject. Sir Tristan shook his head. Guinevere continued. “I know you have not, Lancelot.”

Lancelot turned sharply toward her, eyes narrowed. “Rescuing my queen from Sir Maleagant was not a quest worthy of note?”

Guinevere cringed. “I meant as an official knight.” She had not meant that. Quests were the things of stories. Fights against magic, against fairy knights, against wicked kings, dreamy and romantic and exciting. Her own rescue had been terrifying and terrible. “What if we rescue Isolde?”

Arthur sighed. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean that I cannot do this. Much as I want to—and I do want to. But King Mark is a powerful man. If I were to lead men into his country and steal his wife, Camelot would pay the price. He has allies among all the southern lords and kings. I would be creating a war.”

“You cannot fight a war over one woman,” Brangien whispered as silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

“You misunderstand,” Guinevere said. “I am not inviting you. This is not a quest for a king. It is a quest for two knights and two witches.”

Arthur’s expression was as swift and sharp as his sword. “No.”

“King Mark will never trace it back to Camelot. We will go in disguise.” Guinevere bit her lip, puzzling out the details. “We will need to get Isolde out without anyone knowing. And in a way that will prevent pursuit.” She laughed, clapping her hands. “Brangien already had the perfect idea! We will kill Isolde!”

“Is that—is that not what we are trying to prevent?” Sir Tristan looked at Guinevere as though she had lost her senses.

“We will not really kill her. We will use Brangien’s potion to make it appear as though she is dead. And then we will steal her before she wakes up and anyone is the wiser.”

Sir Tristan’s frown shifted into something more thoughtful. Something more hopeful. “King Mark inters his wives’ bodies in seaside cliffs. It would be simple to retrieve her once they placed her there.”

“You do not have enough time.” Arthur did not sound triumphant. If anything, he sounded regretful. “If King Mark has sent word that he will not be at the wedding, that means the trial is imminent. His kingdom is on the southern tip of the island. It is at least a week’s ride there. And if you were missing from Dindrane’s wedding, there would be talk. It is not unreasonable that he could connect you to Brangien and Sir Tristan and realize what had happened, leading him back to Camelot.”

Guinevere wanted to pull out her hair in frustration. There had to be a way. They could not let Isolde die.