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and waited within.
    Which of us, indeed, was smarter?

Chapter 7

Marrok
    If Merlin could not help me directly with the curse, he did ensure I was clothed and fed and lodged as would any errant knight be. When I spoke of leaving, he encouraged me to “Stay another fortnight. Fortune is not yet done with you here.”
    “And what if I am done with Fortune?” I grumbled back.
    But stay I did, wandering the halls of Camelot. In particular, the kitchens drew me close. At first I tried to convince myself it was because my wolf was comforted by the smell of meats roasting over the great fires. But while my nose might have been otherwise occupied, my eye was drawn to one particular body that labored there.
    Why a swordsman the equal of Lancelot was doing menial kitchen work and not sitting at table with peers I learned from others over a handful of days. Under Kay’s orders, the steward kept the young man Kay had baptized Beaumains busy in the hot kitchen where it was my pleasure to watch him work.
    Stripped to his leggings, his broad shoulders glistening with sweat, arm muscles bulging as he pumped the bellows to keep the great fire roaring…my breath caught at the primal beauty of him. On this my wolf agreed. How much was wolf-lust and how much my own quieter stirrings I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that I wanted Beau.
    On my fourth day at Camelot a parade of knights, lords and ladies left the castle with pennants waving and wagonloads of pavilions, food and drink in tow, off to a tourney at Joyous Garde. I stood with Arthur, Kay, Merlin and a handful of knights with obligations elsewhere to farewell the tourney-goers. We wished them all God-speed but with Lancelot among them, the only mystery was who might win second-best in the field.
    On the fifth day I stepped from the shadows beyond the kitchen fires to confront Beau. “Spar with me,” I said.
    He dropped the sack of flour he’d carried in from the stores at my feet. “Does my Lord command or entreat?” he asked, unruffled at either my presence or my strident tone.
    My nature had always been brusque and to-the-point. Keeping the wolf ever at bay and battling constantly with its beast-simple thoughts and emotions, my manner had become brusquer—and more demanding—yet. I had no patience for courtesy or games.
    “Command. There is not a man left here your equal. I am bored. The practice will do us both good. Cross steel with me.” I wanted to cross much more with him. For now I settled on losing myself in the calm of his eyes, drawing his serenity like a curtain between the wolf and me.
    “And there you see my dilemma. Sir Kay has tasked me with other duties today.”
    “You would choose baking bread over what I offer?”
    Even Beau’s influence wasn’t enough to stop the flare of anger that sparked in me.
    “It is not my choice to make.”
    “And if it were?”
    Beau’s brow furrowed. What was wrong with me, asking senseless questions that only fueled the rumors that I was a madman? I clawed at reason. For a way to make this right. To stop the look of pity that edged its way into Beau’s bright eyes.
    “This evening,” Beau said. “Kay commands my days but the nights are mine. My sword is yours then, if it please you.”
    Swordplay by moonlight? Only one thing could please me more.
    But I wasn’t to know the feel of his blade against mine that night. For it was by the light of the westering sun that Lady Lynette galloped into court, riding as though the Hounds of the Wild Hunt pursued her.
     

Chapter 8

Lyn
    For a week now I’d ridden toward Camelot, frustrated by the slow but tireless pace of my palfrey. My head knew I could do no better by a horse than steadfast Alice, but my heart yearned for a hot-blooded destrier that, in truth, would likely break either lungs or knees riding at speed for more than a league or two.
    Instead I settled for a brief sprint into the castle’s courtyard as we topped the final hill. Hope pounded in my chest the