Something like a chuckle passed through Arthur's teeth. "You don't honestly expect me to accept this, do you?"

"Why wouldn't you? My challenge is completely legitimate," Emrys declared. "Don't be fooled by my appearance, Pendragon—I may be a girl, but I can fight as well as any man." Emrys didn't know if beating all the boys in her village counted—especially since none of them had been known for being particularly skilled in swordsmanship—but it was the best she had to offer.

"That doesn't mean you should," said Reuben suddenly. He turned toward Arthur with a bowed head. "Sire, I beg you to forgive her."

"You know this wench," said Percival as he picked his gauntlet off of the ground.

"N-no," said Reuben quickly and Emrys flinched.

"But you're asking that I forgive her," Arthur noted.

Emrys placed her hands over her hips, dropping her basket to the ground. "That's a pretty big request for someone you claim not to know."

"I don't affiliate myself with silly, little girls," said Reuben indignantly.

"Silly, little girls?" Emrys roared.

"Well, I'd hardly mistake you as a woman. I'd be surprised if you're any older than eighteen."

"I'm seventeen," said Emrys, the temperature in her cheeks rising as the knights laughed. "But women are invented through means of character; just as a boy becomes a man through his strength of heart. How useful is a woman with only a pretty face, who possesses no means with which to provide her husband with a challenge both intellectual and emotional? It would be better for the man to buy a dog since it would at least assist him in a hunt."

Arthur laughed and stepped forward. "You argue with my manservant like an old soul mate." The knights joined him in more laughter.

"Or siblings," Emrys whispered. She knew Reuben had heard her when he looked away. Emrys turned back to Arthur and said, "You still haven't given me your answer."

Arthur smiled and shook his head, seemingly regarding her with the same amount of patience given to a young child. "I can't accept your challenge, Emrys."

"Is it because I'm a girl? Because I've already told you—"

"That's part of it," Arthur admitted. "But I don't think you know that this challenge you've issued can only end in death, as written in the Knights' Codes."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. A tragic end, really, but if it must come to that…"

"You're determined to do this, aren't you?"

"I'm determined to provide you with a worthy opponent."

Arthur laughed once more. "Alright, then, Emrys," he said after the longest time. "I accept."

"Finally," she said, turning to Percival. "I'll need to borrow your sword."

After much prompting from Arthur, Percival handed it over to her. "Careful," he warned, "you might be too small for it."

It was a magnificent piece of work but Emrys couldn't help but note that it was longer than her forearm and much heavier than she'd anticipated. She refused to ask for another sword. "I'm sure you'll find that I can manage just fine. Now give us room."

Arthur smiled at her, holding his sword in such a way that the light that reflected off of the tip blinded Emrys' eyes. "Think you can handle this, Emrys?"

"You've no idea what I can handle. But you're not afraid of me, are you?"

"Not in the least."

"Good." Emrys swung her sword to catch Arthur's as it came down on her. Despite her buckling knees, Emrys managed to summon the strength she needed to push Arthur away.

She'd planned on charging him while he was off-balance, but Arthur was quick to get back on his feet. She charged anyway, deciding that this was better than waiting for him to attack first again.

Arthur twirled around Emrys and poked her arse with the tip of his sword. Smiling as she whipped around to face him, he said, "I thought you promised me a challenge, Emrys."

Emrys lunged at him a second time. "Aren't you a little entertained, my lord?" She jumped when she felt the sharp prod of Arthur's sword again.

"A little," he admitted, holding the sword out toward her a third time to keep her at bay. "I'll admit that this is the most interesting fight I've ever had."

"And I'm just getting started," Emrys huffed. It was at that moment that she realized she was out of breath and Arthur was perfectly fine. Through all of her insults, Emrys had forgotten that Arthur's strength was unparalleled to anything she had to offer.

Almost anything she had to offer.

Emrys threw herself at Arthur to avoid the temptation of using her magic. Too late, she remembered his sword, and Emrys stumbled right into Arthur's arms as she tried to avoid it.

He tightened his grip around her chest, restricting her arms to her side and locking her within his cage of broad shoulders and strong arms. No matter how much she struggled, Emrys couldn't break free of him.

"I must disagree with your earlier statement, Reuben," said Arthur in a loud voice. "As I hold her here, I tell you all truthfully that there may be something yet to define this wench as a woman!"

The knights laughed; Reuben looked away; Emrys' face burned.

Use magic! her insides screamed. It dug into the earth, searching for the power it had to offer. She was beginning to slip out of herself. In moments, she would show him—show them all exactly what she was capable of doing.

Emrys glanced up, catching sight of a pair of silver eyes watching over her, masked behind the clouds. Baelfire's words rang through her mind, mocking her earlier confidence. It was enough to severe Emrys' tie to her magic before she could start to make out the colorful auras of the knights around her.

"I can stop this," Arthur said. His breath was hot in her ear, but it caused a shiver to run down her spine. "I can end your embarrassment right now. I'll call off this fight if you apologize...and bow to me." His chuckle rumbled deep within his chest.

She wanted to blow him away with air magic. She wanted to reveal her power and dare him to laugh at her again. She wanted him to realize exactly whom he was in the presence of.

The dragon eyes had left. Emrys pulled an image of the severed heads to the front of her mind, quelling her emotions long enough for her to think clearly. She didn't need magic; she had a good head.

She stamped on Arthur's foot, forcing him to fold over her. Before he could straighten up, Emrys pushed up on her legs and crashed her head into Arthur's nose. She saw more than the colors of the auras around her as Arthur dropped her to the ground. Emrys scrambled to her feet, trying to think about her next move.

Arthur rubbed his nose and faced her. She realized that, despite her size, she was not quicker than him and lacked the years of training he had against her. It would only be a matter of time until she landed in her previous situation again.

She glanced up to see Arthur running toward her. On impulse, Emrys raised her sword, aimed for his head, and released it into the air. When he threw himself out of its pathway, she charged and brought him to the ground by his waist. She leaned forward, wrenched his sword from his hands, and propped herself up on one knee for balance. The tip of his sword was pressed into his neck hard enough to bruise.

His breathing was short and strained, and his eyes were wide with apparent shock. She wondered what he thought of her now, with his life in her possession.

If he thought she wouldn't take his life, he was wrong. Emrys mulled over the idea as she stared into Arthur's eyes. If there were any reason for Emrys not to take his life, she'd find it there.

His eyes held nothing. There was no fire within it, no desire to live. She doubted he would struggle against her if she were to press down on the sword. There was nothing great about this spoiled prince whose wide eyes begged for mercy. But he did not want to be saved; he wanted her to take his life. She was vaguely aware of the knights unsheathing their swords behind her.

Leave him, her magic ordered her. It growled and paced in its cage, begging her to make a decision. Finish him, another voice told her. This one was much darker; Emrys hadn't heard from this voice in a while.

Something held Emrys there above Arthur. With a bone chilling thought, she realized that her magic had once again locked onto the earth's power. Arthur stared back at her as if he could see her mental struggle. He shifted ever so slightly underneath her, as if he was testing her hold on the sword. His hair fell over the grass, mixing in with her fingers.

Her stomach folded over itself eight times; her mind reeled with ancient chants; her heart strained to beat against the crushing force of the earth's magic. The only thing holding her there, keeping her rooted to that earth was this boy.

This boy—this boy who did not desire to live, who knew nothing of the destiny the gods had written for him, whose blue eyes held hers with such an intensity that she thought he could see into her very soul—she would make him great. She could see it. It had been set this way since the moment she had been born. She couldn't escape it, no matter how much she wanted to.

It was her destiny. And destinies, her dark voice whispered, were meant to be followed.

With a gasp, Emrys broke free of her magic's hold and stood up, planting the sword into the grass. She considered offering her hand to help Arthur to his feet but decided against it. She didn't want to touch him again.

Arthur sat up, one hand around his throat. "You cheated!"

"I won," Emrys said with a frown.

"You threw a bloody sword at my head," he roared, rising to his feet. "Were you trying to kill me?"

"If I'd wanted you dead, I would've taken my chance just now." She crossed her arms over her chest, deepening her frown. "You're not very grateful for someone whose life was just spared. My victory should have called for your death."

"This doesn't count as a victory. You didn't win; you cheated!"

"I didn't realize you were such a sore loser, Arthur Pendragon."

"I demand a rematch," said Arthur in a low growl.

Emrys swept Arthur underneath her cool gaze and picked up her basket. "No, thank you, but you've nothing to fear, Pendragon; I won't brag about this. You're right to say that I haven't been completely fair to you."

Arthur smiled. "So you admit it?"

"Of course. I never should've challenged you before you had a chance to take these," she said as she handed Arthur his vitamins. "I mean, you never would've won anyway, but at least now you have proof that you were impaired."

"I don't need vitamins to beat a girl in a swordfight."

Emrys' face burned with indignity. "Obviously you don't need vitamins to lose to one either." She glanced to her left, locking eyes with Reuben. "You'll see that your prince takes his vitamins after he's done with his fit, won't you?"

"Where are you going," Arthur demanded as Emrys parted the knights.

"It would seem that now I'm the one in need of a worthy opponent. Until next we meet, knights, Reuben, Arthur Pendragon," she called over her shoulder.

Emrys could feel her entire being scream in protest as she walked away from the field. She shouldn't have met him, engaged him, and tempted her fate. Her senses were open to him. Their connection had been established. There would be no escaping her destiny now. Her only hope now was for Baelfire to make her immortal.

As she walked, Emrys became increasingly aware of a pain that was beginning to settle over her stomach. When she reached the castle gate, the pain became so much that she almost doubled over. She did, however, stumble backwards.

Someone reached out and caught her arm, steadying her. "Easy, Emrys."

Emrys knew from the sound of his voice that it was Reuben. She pulled away from him and took a step toward the castle, the pain dulling slightly.

"That was rather unnecessary back there, don't you think?"

"Not when you compare it to you pretending that you don't know me," she shot back. "I'm surprised you're even talking to me now, since you claim that you don't associate with 'silly, little girls'." The words stung even more now.

Reuben ignored her. "I would advise you to choose your actions more carefully in the future, lest you get me into trouble or find it yourself."

"Yes, because we wouldn't want that, would we?"

He was silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes at her. Then, with a sudden movement, he gripped her shoulders and began shaking her violently. "What is wrong with you, Emrys? Why are you in Camelot? It's not safe here. Not for you," he hissed.

Her magic—and her sickness—resurfaced to the top, threatening to bubble over. She fixed her eyes on Reuben's, swallowing her urge. "Let go of me," she ordered.

"Is everything alright, Emrys," said Silas as he came across the pair. He stopped when his eyes fell on Reuben.

Reuben released Emrys and turned toward Silas with fierce eyes. "When you said that you would be taking a ward into your household, you neglected to mention it was my sister."

Now it was Emrys' turn to look at Silas. "You knew he was here and you didn't tell me?"

Silas rubbed his temple and said, "I was waiting for the proper time. I didn't think the two of you would meet—"

"You sent me to Arthur without thinking that I would chance upon my brother, his manservant?"

"I'm an old man, Emrys! Have some pity on me—I'm hardly perfect and I'm very likely to forget things at my age."

"Did you also forget that she's to stay away from Arthur," Reuben asked suddenly.

Emrys turned on Reuben with fierce eyes. "Who gave you permission to decide such things?"

"Mother did, unless you've forgotten."

"Could you blame me? You haven't even sent me as much as a letter in the past ten years yet suddenly you think you can decide things in my life?"

He scoffed. "I'd hardly say I'm the one who's decided things for your life, wouldn't you?"

"That's enough, you two," said Silas sternly, glancing around at the aristocrats who passed them. "Emrys, I think it's time I took you home before the ceremonies start."

Emrys opened her mouth to protest as Silas prompted her to the gate, but instead she cried out in pain and doubled over.

"Emrys," someone said above her. She couldn't distinguish whose voice it was—maybe both of them had yelled.

A pair of arms pulled Emrys away from the gate, far enough that her pain seemed only minimal. After a few deep breathes, Emrys was able to stand again.

"Emrys, are you alright," said Silas, peering into her eyes. "What happened?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled. "My magic's a little hard to control." She tried not to think about what Baelfire had said.

"It's never been this bad, has it? You've never been in pain before."

"It just started. Ever since—"

"Ever since you made a magical connection with Arthur," Reuben answered. "This is why I wanted to keep her away from him. Don't you remember what the Elders said, Emrys? If you and Arthur share a magical connection, your destiny is set."

"But I haven't used magic all day," cried Emrys, trying not to panic. "And besides, I saw Arthur earlier today and I was perfectly fine."

"Connection," Reuben repeated. "Seeing someone isn't the same as physically connecting with them. When you challenged Arthur earlier, your magical life force must've bound you to him."

Emrys was starting to feel sick again, but this sickness came from the uneasiness that the talk of her destiny aroused in her stomach.

"Emrys, you challenged Arthur," Silas exclaimed. "You could be jailed and executed for that!"

"Not now, Uncle." Emrys glanced at the gate. "What does this mean?"

"It seems to me," said Reuben as he pushed Emrys toward the castle, eyeing her reaction, "that your sickness gets worse as you get closer to the gate—farther from Arthur."

"Your magic is literally forcing you to stay by Arthur's side," Silas concluded.

Reuben nodded. "And until you accept it, fate is going to do all it can to push you two together."

Suddenly, a terrified scream split the air. Without hesitation, Emrys followed the sound deep into the castle, where a crowd had already begun to form in an obscure hallway. She made her way to the front of the crowd, freezing when her eyes fell upon the body.

Even in death, the girl was beautiful. Her blue eyes were glazed over, unfocused but peaceful. Her blonde hair was curled underneath her head like a pillow. A tray of cookies lay perfectly scattered around her. There was nothing painful about the way her body was slumped against the floor. Had her eyes been closed, Emrys would've thought the girl was sleeping.

But she wasn't sleeping. Silas, who parted the crowd of murmuring aristocrats with a firm order, confirmed the girl's death.

"That's Vera," Reuben whispered as he edged Emrys to the back. "She was Morgana's handmaiden."

Emrys glanced up at Morgana, who was on the other side of the crowd. The princess had no tears in her eyes, but the lower half of her jaw was set. Guinevere stood beside her, looking at anything but Vera's body.

Without adding much thought to her actions, Emrys left her brother's side and made her way over to Morgana. "Are you alright, princess?"

"She's fine," Guinevere hissed between her teeth, glaring at Emrys.

Morgana touched Guinevere's arm lightly and nodded at Emrys. "Thank you for your concern, Emrys. I'm just shocked."

"I'm so sorry, princess."

A door at the end of the hallway burst open, and Uther Pendragon entered, his cloak billowing behind him. He strode up to Morgana without even glancing at Emrys, who avoided his eyes. "Morgana, are you alright? What happened?"

"I don't know—she was like this when I got here." Emrys caught the slightest crack in Morgana's voice. As Uther moved away from Morgana, Emrys offered her comfort, surprised when the princess took her hand.

"Arthur," said Uther suddenly, his gaze passing just over Emrys' head.

Emrys didn't turn around to confirm Arthur's presence. She feared that her magic would explode within her; her control weakened when Arthur's fingers grazed her arm as he reached forward to touch his sister.

She turned her face away so that Arthur wouldn't notice her. Emrys looked at Reuben, taking deep breaths. Her magic was in her throat, clutching her body with a grip so demanding she thought the sickness had returned. But the sickness had gone, disappearing the moment Arthur had arrived.

Sudden panic flashed over Reuben's face. He motioned toward her eyes, which had begun to burn. Emrys knew that, in just a few short moments, her magic would be released.

Without letting go of Morgana's hand, Emrys grabbed her right arm and dug her nails into her skin. She bit back the sting of the physical pain, relaxing as her magic crept away. No blood had been drawn, but the pain had been enough to give her magic a different task—healing.

She wondered what color her eyes had taken, what element her emotions had almost called, what manner of death Uther would've demanded. Perhaps he was still in the mood to spear another head.

"I can't seem to figure out why Vera died," said Silas, pulling Emrys away from her thoughts. "It's a mystery, sire."

"Not a mystery, Silas, magic. There's sorcery in Camelot. It's the one from before," Uther growled. "Arthur, escort our guests to the great hall while I deal with this."

Arthur nodded, every bit the dutiful prince that he was expected to be. Emrys suspected he only played the part well, thinking back to the side of him that she'd seen out on the field.

No wonder she'd found no greatness in him! This Arthur was a fake. The Arthur she'd challenged was nothing short of a prat, but Emrys knew that he'd been real. At least, Prat Arthur was probably closer to being the real Arthur Pendragon than Prince Arthur.

Prince Arthur nodded and led the muttering aristocrats away. As he left, he caught Emrys' eyes. If he recognized her, his face didn't betray it. Arthur continued out of the hall without taking another glance at Emrys.

"Morgana, please return to your chambers," said Uther. "Guinevere will serve as Vera's substitute until I can provide a proper replacement."

"Father, if I may," said Morgana, stepping forward. "I already have someone that I would like to suggest." She pulled Emrys to her side, unaware of Emrys' growing uneasiness. "This is Emrys. With your permission, Father, I'd like Emrys to be my next handmaiden."

Emrys squirmed underneath Uther's stare. The king studied her intently, his frown deepening with each passing moment. She held her breath and forced herself to hold Uther's gaze.

Finally, Uther shook his head and said, "I appreciate your thoughts, Morgana, but I cannot agree to this. We hardly know this girl."

"Yes, but I trust her to take care of me tonight."

"What else do you have to justify your trust besides your blind faith?"

"Sire," said Silas, "this is the young girl I mentioned taking in. As her guardian, I've been able to observe her, and I can assure you that you needn't worry about her character."

Uther returned his gaze to Emrys, hastily saying, "Because I value your counsel, Silas, and because I simply have no time to waste on this matter, I will allow this girl to act as Morgana's handmaiden for the night."

"Thank you, Father," said Morgana smiling.

"Arthur's servant Reuben will show you what I expect of you tonight," he said to Emrys. To Morgana: "I'll see you at the ceremonies." Though Uther's tone was friendly enough, Emrys could sense the formal dismissal behind his words.

"I apologize for making this decision so impulsively, Emrys," said Morgana as she led Emrys, Guinevere, and Reuben into the next hallway. "Vera was lovely, but she was still one of my father's choosing. I realized as my father was speaking that this was my chance to have a handmaiden I approved of."

"You approve of this homely wench," said Guinevere, narrowing her eyes at Emrys.

Emrys could feel her magic swelling again. Oh, how it begged to silence Guinevere! Pretty girl, said a dark voice. Pretty girl! Pretty face! Easy to ruin. She almost let it. Instead, she turned toward Morgana and said, "I am immensely grateful for your trust, princess, but I'm surprised to find your trust so easily."

"I'm a little surprised myself," Morgana admitted. "There's something about you that I feel inexplicably drawn to. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I just have a feeling that you're very special, Emrys." Morgana chuckled as she entered her chambers. "I didn't realize how silly that sounded until I spoke it aloud."

"Emrys," said Reuben, standing away from Morgana's chambers.

As Emrys turned to follow her brother, Guinevere said, "I would advise paying close attention to what he says if you would like to make it through tonight." A taunting smirk stretched across her face. "I'm afraid I don't have much hope for you."

"Emrys," Reuben said again, this time to stop her from following Guinevere through the door. "Don't instigate this matter further."

"She's the one who started it!"

"Never mind her, now."

"But she's right, Reuben! I'll never last the night!"

"You will, Emrys," he assured her. "I'll teach you how to survive in this place."