set in stone, page 6
part #15 of Twisted Tales (Disney) Series
She shook her head. Her mother was going to be so disappointed in her.
"Oh, wow! I remember those days!"
Guin looked up, startled at the sound of a new voice approaching. Her eyes widened in shock as she realised who it belonged to. None other than King Arthur himself stopping at the bottom of the stairs, looking down at the mess, a strange look in his eyes.
He was dressed quite differently than when she'd first met him in the forest, where he'd worn typical peasant attire: a plain, undyed tunic and tights. He was now garbed in a rich red velvet doublet over a billowy white shirt. A heavy golden chain hung across his shoulders, and an ornate crown that looked a bit too large for him perched on his head. She watched as he shoved the crown back up his forehead, almost absently, as if he had to do so often.
Before she could say anything, he knelt beside her, checking out the mess. He picked up a piece of pottery and tossed it in the bin. Guinevere felt her cheeks heat.
"What are you doing?" she demanded before she could stop herself.
"Helping, I think," he replied, grabbing another plate. "Unless you meant for them to stay on the floor?"
"Of course not," she snapped, feeling hot and embarrassed. Here she'd been waiting all week for her chance to get close to the king, and this was how she finally
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ran into him? On the floor, surrounded by broken dishes looking a sight? Pathetic. Truly pathetic.
"Look," she tried, "you don't have to—"
She was interrupted by a cry of surprise. She frowned, looking up to find Arthur staring I her, | look of astonishment on his face.
«Why, it's your he declared in a voice rich with wonder. «Guinevere, right? From the forest?" He couldn't have sounded more surprised than if she'd been a purple dragon he had spotted wandering the halls. Which she supposed made sense, seeing as they'd met under such different circumstances the first time round.
For a split second, she considered lying - saying he was mistaken. That her name was Mary or Martha or Elaine. Mavbe it would have been a good idea. She was trying to keep a low profile, after all. But then again, this was the first conversation she'd been able to have with him since she'd arrived at to the castle, and she didn't want him to just walk away.
"I suppose I am," she choked out, trying to keep her voice light. "Nice to see you again, Wart"
Now it was his turn to look embarrassed. He hung his head, causing his crown to tumble to the floor. He grabbed it and shoved it back on, looking unhappy.
"About that," he said. "I suppose I should explain."
Guinevere shrugged, going back to the broken dishes "No need," she replied airily. "You're the king. I supp0se you can do whatever you want." She reached out for a dish.
Arthur grabbed the dish from her hands, causing her to look up at him in surprise. He met her eyes with his own and she was astonished to see they were practically radiating with apology.
"I shouldn't have lied to you," he said solemnly. "It was wrong, and I knew it. It was just... well, the way you were treating me. Like I was a normal, everyday person - not some fancy king. Let's just say I don't get that a lot any more." He sighed deeply.
"I imagine you don't," she muttered, trying to ignore the sudden tug at her heart as she caught the forlorn expression on his face. Ugh. The last thing she needed was to start feeling sorry for him. He had stolen the throne of England, she reminded herself. He wasn't some innocent victim.
"Besides," he added, smiling, "if you had known who I really was, would you have let me walk you home?"
"Probably not," she admitted.
His eyes sparkled. "So you see the need for my I deception, then."
Guinevere felt herself blushing again as she forced her eyes back to her task. He was certainly charming - she'd
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give him that. A lot more charming than she'd imagined someone like him would be. Still, she couldn't allow herself I let down her guard. To forget who he really was. And whom he served.
She had to be careful. But at the same time, she had to play nice. To get him to trust her, to open up to her, so she and Mim could find a way to take him down.
She realised he was looking at her expectantly.
«It's really all right," she assured him, giving him a bland smile. "I'm not angry with you."
Hope flushed on his face. "So you... forgive me?"
"It's already forgotten."
The lie tasted like sawdust on her tongue, but she swallowed it down, knowing it was necessary. Still, she couldn't help feeling a little guilty when she caught the relief on his face. Now who's the liar?
Arthur grabbed another piece of broken pottery and tossed it expertly into the bin. "So what are you doing here, anyway?" he asked. "You never told me you worked in the castle."
"I didn't until last week," she confessed. "My mother thought it might be nice for me to get a job to pass the time and help pay our expenses." The lie rolled easily off her tongue, surprising her. She tried to imagine herself as a spy, deep undercover - a notion that pleased her quite a bit.
Especially when she caught the look on Arthur's face and realised he believed every word.
"Well, I'm glad you did," he said. "I've been feeling terrible about what happened and wanted to apologise to you. But they won't let me out of the castle any more. They say it's too dangerous." He scowled, telling her exactly what he thought of that notion.
"I'm glad to see you again, too," she replied. "Though I wish it were under better circumstances than a pile 0f broken dishes. I promise I'll pay for them," she added quickly. "They can take it out of my wages."
Arthur looked shocked at the idea. "Certainly not," he said, scooping up an armful of broken pottery. "Do you know how many dishes they have in this castle?" He paused, then grinned. "No, of course you don't. No one does. And no one's ever going to count them, either."
She couldn't help a laugh at this. "I suppose not."
"Trust me, I broke more than my share of dishes back in the day," he told her, tossing his load of pottery into the bin.
"You used to work in a kitchen?" she asked, surprised.
"Oh, yes 1 for years, actually. What I told you out in the forest - it wasn't altogether a lie. I was Wart before I was Arthur. Just an orphan boy, lucky enough to be taken in by an old knight and his son and given a job."
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She bit her lower lip, dropping her head to concentrate 1 her task again. It seemed the two of them had more in common than she had thought. They were both orphans, both raised by foster parents, both trained by wizards. But n0w one of them was sitting on the throne of England. And one was washing dishes in a castle basement.
No, she scolded herself. That was just his cover. He didn't belong on the throne at all. He'd taken it from the rightful king.
She wondered suddenly if he knew this. Had Merlin let him in on the plan from the start? Or did he really think this was his destiny? Was he a mastermind, deceiving them all? Or was he just a puppet for Merlin | having no idea what he was doing?
Arthur threw the last piece of pottery in the trash. "There!" he declared. "Much easier when you have help, am I right?"
"Much," she found herself agreeing.
"And now look!" he added. "You've got time for me to give you a tour of the castle." He held out his arm gallandy.
She stared at it, not taking it. "A tour?" she asked, surprised.
His confidence fled his face. "I mean, if you wanted one, that is. If you have other things to do..."
She swallowed hard. She certainly did have other things to do - a pile of chores in the kitchen that would take her all day. But how coidd she turn down her first chance to spend one-on-one time with Arthur? That was the true reason she'd come here, after all.
"Actually, a tour sounds lovely," she declared, giving hiin what she hoped looked like a sweet smile. She hooked her arm in his. "Lead the way."
CHAPTER NINE
GUINEVERE
The tour took almost an hour. Camelot Castle was huge, with perhaps a hundred rooms. Arthur took his time showing Guinevere each and every one, and she forced herself to ooh and aah over the rich purple drapes and golden ornamentations in each one, as if they were visions of her greatest dreams come to life. In truth, however, she found the whole thing a bit shocking - to see so much luxury and riches go to waste. Rooms that were not even used, containing enough wealth for a peasant to live on for a lifetime. It didn't seem quite fair. But she kept her mouth shut and played the good servant girl as the tour progressed, knowing it was more important to gain Arthur's trust than criticise his lifestyle.
"And this is the final bedroom," Arthur announced as they stepped into yet another room, this one with a giant stone hearth in the corner and a window with real leaded glass that looked out over the castle gardens. There were thick animal-skin rugs on the floor and a massive canopy bed in the centre, covered with at least a dozen pillows and draped in heavy crimson curtains. "At least I think so," he added with a bashful grin. "I've lost count at this point."
She snorted and walked over to the bed. Feeling a little mischievous, she climbed onto it and began dancing on it to see if it was as soft as it looked.
Turned out it was even softer.
Arthur stared up at her as if shocked by her brazen move. She grinned, beckoning him with her hand, suddenlyfeeling silly and free. "Don't tell me you've never tried jumping on one of these beds?" she teased. When he shook his head doubtfully, she laughed; "Well, il's no wonder you think this place is boring, then."
For a moment, he stood there as if warring with his own indecision. But at last he shook his head and scrambled onto the bed. Soon the two of them were jumping up and down so high they almost smacked their heads on the ceiling twice. The third time, Guinevere managed to lose her footing on the way down and tumbled into the pile of
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pillows. Arthur laughed as she struggled to right herself, tangled in their silk covers.
"Need some help, m'lady?" he asked in a mocking voice.
"Please," she scoffed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it in his direction. It hit him square in the chest, and he too lost his balance, tumbling off the bed altogether and landing on the floor with a heavy thump. Guinevere gasped.
"Are you all right?" she asked, leaning off the bed to check on him.
"I'm fine," he said with a sly grin as he picked up two pillows off the floor. "But you... you are dead!"
He hinged at her. She leapt off the bed, screaming, dashing to the other corner of the room. He gave chase, but it was hard to run with an armful of pillows, allowing Guin an easy escape. She leapt back onto the bed and grabbed her own stash, throwing them at Arthur one after another white using her own pillow as a shield.
"You shall not win, evil knight!" she cried out. "I will be the victor!"
■We'll see about that," Arthur shot back, leaping up on the bed and diving in her direction. She lost her balance again, and this time they both tumbled to the floor together, tangling up in a pile of limbs. They were laughing so hard at this point, they could barely speak.
"Do vou yield?" Arthur asked with a sly smile.
"Never!" she declared, struggling to sit up. "As long as there be breath in my body, I shall never—"
The door burst open. Two guards rushed in, grabbed Guinevere, and yanked her backwards. She cried out in alarm as her arms were pinned behind her painfully and a rough hand grabbed at her throat.
"Leave me alone!" she cried, trying to fight them off. But thev were grown men. Far too strong. For a split second she actually considered using magic - that's what Mim would have done in a situation like this. But she realised it would destroy her cover and probably get her banned from the castle. So instead, she stopped struggling and submitted.
"Who are you?" the first guard demanded, once he had her under control.
"And what are you doing to the king?" added the second.
"It's okay, Brutus," Arthur broke in. Guin turned to see he'd managed to get up off the floor and was approaching the guards. "We were just playing."
"Playing, Your Majesty?" the guard - Brutus - exclaimed, spitting out the word as if it were poison. "But we thought..."
"We heard screams," added his partner, looking personally offended. "We thought you were being attacked."
"It was just a game," Arthur explained with a heavy
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sigh. "I'm sorry I worried you." He pressed his lips together. "So.. • can you please let her go?"
The guards reluctantly released Guinevere. She shook out her arms, giving them a sour look. Inside, her heart was pumping a thousand beats a minute. She glanced over at Arthur. He shot her an apologetic smile.
"I should get back to the kitchen," she mumbled, feeling incredibly awkward all of a sudden. Not to mention more than a little ashamed. What had she been thinking, jumping on royal beds and pillow fighting with the king of England, as if she were an unruly child who didn't know any better? What if they told her mistress - the cook - about her bad behaviour and she lost her job because of it? What if they banished her from the castle altogether? Arthur wouldn't order it, she was pretty sure, but from what he'd said, he didn't always get to make the rules. If she lost her chance to complete her quest, Mim would be so disappointed.
Also, England would be doomed. Which was almost as bad.
"Are you all right?" Arthur asked, catching the look on her face.
"I'm f-fine," she stammered, feeling the eyes of the guards on her. "Um, thank you for the tour."
The corner of Arthur's mouth lifted. "Thank you for making my afternoon a lot more interesting than usual," he
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said, bowing grandly in her direction. She noticed he had a small bruise on the side of his face, probably from hitting the floor so hard. Hopefully no one would ask him how he got it.
Brutus cleared his throat, nodding to the door. She realised it was her invitation to vacate. She gave Arthur one last rueful look, then scurried towards the exit, hoping she'd be able to remember her way through the twisty passages back to the kitchen and that no one had noticed she'd been gone.
She was almost to the door when she heard his voice again.
"Wait"
She stopped in her tracks. "Yes?" she asked, turning, her pulse beating fast at her wrists.
For a moment Arthur just stood there. Then his mouth opened. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" he asked, his voice wobbling a bit on the words, as if it took an effort to speak them. "It's a bit of a special night. The Saxons are coming to visit, and we're holding a grand feast in their honour."
She raised her eyebrows. He was inviting her to dinner? Dinner with the Saxons?
"Aren't the Saxons our enemies?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.
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But Arthur only smiled. "Not for long," he said mysteriously. He paused, then added, "So what do you say? Will you join me? Eat by my side?"
Guinevere shuffled from foot to foot, indecision whirling through her. This was the opportunity she'd been waiting for, the reason she'd been sent to the castle to begin with: to observe courtly matters and report them back to Mim.
So why did she suddenly feel so conflicted?
She glanced up at Arthur. His face was awash with what could be described only as hope.
' "Of course," she mumbled, forcing herself to curtsy to him. "If you want me there, I will come."
Arthur smiled. "There is nothing I would want more."
CHAPTER TEN
ARTHUR
Arthur was only halfway dressed for the banquet when he heard a rapping at his window. Puzzled, he ran over to see what it could be and was surprised to find none other than Archimedes flapping on the other side, pecking the glass with his beak. Excited, Arthur yanked the window open to let the bird in.
"You're back!" he exclaimed. "Did you make it to Sir Ector's castle? Were Merlin's books still there? Did you find something in them? Did you discover what happened to Merlin? Who's Morgan le Fay?"
The owl flew to his perch by Arthur's bed, settling in and carefully picking at his wing feathers before answering. Arthur hopped from foot to foot impatiently.
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The owl had always had a flair for the dramatic. But this
was ridiculous.
«Come on!" he cried. "I don't have a lot of time before the banquet starts. I need to know what you found out."
Archimedes had been gone a week, and Arthur had started worrying something might have happened to him. Which would have been horrible | Arthur had admittedly grown pretty fond of him over the last months. Of course he would never admit this to the grumpy old bird, knowing hill well Archimedes would never, in turn, admit to appreciating this kind of concern on his behalf.
Archimedes spat out a feather. "Yes, 1 am back," he said grandly. "And let me tell you, I'm very happy to be so. That horrible tower that your foster father had Merlin stay in is so damp and cold and dreary - I don't know how we ever put up with it back in the day."
"Yes, yes, it's terrible," Arthur agreed peevishly. "But were Merlin's books still there? Were you able to read them?"
"Of course I was able to read them," the owl clucked. "What do you think I am? A bumbling medieval idiot? I'm the one who taught you your ABCs, and don't you forget it." Arthur groaned, plopping down on his bed. Clearly the
owl refused to be rushed.
Archimedes flew over to join him. "Yes, my impatient
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boy," he said patronisingly, "I was able to go through Merlin's books. He has quite a lot of them, as you know which was what made it take so long. But in the end, I did manage to find out quite a bit about your Morgan le Fay."
