Wulfstan physically stepped back and clamped his mouth shut as he swallowed heavily. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty. I was wrong to disrespect you. I—I am sorry.”

“I accept your apology,” Vera said.

Arthur gave a curt nod. “Very well. Let us be done with it and move forward.”

Wulfstan’s eyes cast toward the floor. He bowed stiffly, turned on his heel, and stalked out of the chamber, his servants fumbling and hurrying to follow his less-than-ceremonious departure.

Vera didn’t give herself time to think about it before she reached out to gingerly touch Arthur’s arm—only long enough to draw his attention. Still, he flinched and stared down at her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have controlled my temper, I—”

“I’m not angry,” Arthur said tersely before he looked away.

Then what the hell is wrong with you? She almost asked it out loud. Say it, she told herself. Go on. But the words never came. How could he defend her and go right back to this?

“This is horse shit,” she muttered under her breath. The only reason Vera could see in it was that Arthur defended the throne and its authority, the kingdom’s delicate balance, and not her. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat, feeling rather like a petulant nuisance and wondering for perhaps the hundredth time why her presence in this world even mattered.

But court wasn’t over yet. There was already another person entering the throne room, and it took Vera a moment in the wake of Wulfstan’s departure to realize that something was amiss. A uniformed soldier bearing the king’s coat of arms emblazoned in red upon his chest ran the room’s length. Lancelot and Percival stood, their hands instinctively moving to their swords.

“Your Majesty,” the soldier said. He did not wait to finish bowing before he continued. “There’s flooding. Word has spread quickly. We need aid.”

“Where?” Arthur said.

“Exeter.”

Now it was Merlin who stood and moved next to Arthur. Doubt wrinkled the mage’s brow. He’d just been in Exeter, hadn’t he?

“What’s happened?” he said.

“I—I’m not sure what’s gone wrong, but—”

“The magic?” Merlin asked sharply.

“Yes. The water continues to flow, but now it’s flooding, and we’ve no way to stop it.”

“I put barriers in place,” Merlin said to Arthur. “They must not have held.”

“And word is out?” Arthur asked the soldier.

He swallowed heavily. “It is. Even here in town, everyone’s saying that the harvest can’t be saved.”

“Is that true?” Arthur said.

The soldier hesitated.

“What’s your name, soldier?”

“Marcus.”

“Marcus, your job is not to deliver good news to me,” Arthur said. “I need the truth, and I need it immediately.”

“Yes, sire,” Marcus said with more confidence. “It’s not all lost, but we must act now. We need men to salvage what’s left, and we need magic to fix the problem. We need it fast—as soon as possible.”

“Understood,” Arthur said.

“Your Majesty, I can leave immediately and take a unit of men with me,” Lancelot offered.

“No,” Arthur said. “I want you and Percival to remain in Camelot. Percival, find Sir Bors. Tell him to gather his unit and make to leave. Marcus will bring their orders to the armory. Come directly back here. We have more to discuss.”

“Yes, sire,” Percival jumped into action, dashing from the room without delay. Arthur looked to Merlin without a word. He nodded gravely.

“I’ll leave straight away.” Merlin glanced at Vera as he spoke. The light of hope dimmed in his eyes, a candle flickering in the wind seconds before its suffocated.

Arthur next addressed the two stunned citizen representatives, a man around Vera’s age and an older woman with her silver hair wrapped in a bun and perched atop her head like a bird’s nest. “Thank you for your service today. You’ve been privy to especially delicate information. I trust your discretion as you return to your homes.”

“I’d say the chances of discretion are slim,” Lancelot said as soon as the door closed behind the two townsfolk. He picked up his chair in one hand and gestured to Matilda’s. “May I?”

She stood, and he moved both into a semi-circle next to Vera and Arthur’s seats. She was surprised when Lancelot took the chair next to hers, leaving Matilda the one by Arthur rather than the other way around. They could all see one another now.

“We’re waiting for Percival?” Lancelot asked Arthur. He nodded distractedly and rubbed at his chin.

Lancelot was deep in thought, too. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “What was it you said?” he asked abruptly. His eyes were twinkling as he set them on Vera. “Horse shit on your face …” he said, relishing the shape of the words. “You truly said that to Wulfstan?”

Vera glanced around at each of them. “Yes.”

Lancelot grinned. He held his hand up expectantly for a high five. Matilda and Arthur watched in bewilderment as they slapped palms, Lancelot enthusiastically and Vera reluctantly.

“But I didn’t know who he was,” she said.

“Well, I’ll tell you. He is a self-important prat and a colossal ass with too much money and far too much economic influence. So, there is actually no one in this realm who could get away with what you did except for you—and maybe Arthur, but he’d never,” he added dismissively. “I didn’t think I could love you more, but here we are.” He rocked back in his seat as if he had not just told Vera that he loved her and done so in front of her husband and chambermaid. Arthur had heard all this, but he remained focused on the closed door on the other end of the hall.

“Matilda,” Lancelot continued, “I’ll be jealous for the rest of my days that you got to hear that happen in person.”

Matilda suppressed a grin and pushed a curl back from her forehead. “I don’t personally know the man, but it was not unsatisfying.”

The door to the room swung open, and Percival hurried in. Lancelot fetched a chair for him, and he dropped into it, barely winded though he must have run the whole way to the armory and back.

“The troops are making ready,” he said. “They’ll depart this afternoon.”

“Good.” Arthur looked at all of them in turn. “We need to do what we can here. This is our first crisis since my rule began. Fear is potent, and panic spreads like a plague. Everyone in our realm remembers how it felt to go hungry during the wars. They must feel certain their children will not starve over the winter. Matilda, can we tap into our food stores to bridge the gap? A show of abundance between now and the harvest’s arrival could help ease fears.”

Matilda cast a furtive glance at Vera. The question should have been asked of her, but she wouldn’t have known how to answer anyway. “Yes, Your Majesty. The queen can make that order today.”

“Good. We need our soldiers on board, and we need ambassadors to make trips to the other towns impacted as we send supplies. The damage will be worst here, though. Our town’s troops need to know what to say. And the two of you,” he said to Lancelot and Percival, “should stay visible to reassure our people. I’ll do the same.”

“What about a public address?” Percival asked.

“I think that would be wise. And the queen—” Lancelot began, but he stopped short as Arthur glowered at him. God, how he must hate her. “We need her, Arthur. If you want a show of solidarity to boost morale, she can’t be absent when the whole city knows she’s here.”

“What do you think?” Arthur asked Matilda. She glanced at Vera, her lips set in a thin line before answering.

“I’m fairly certain you know what I think, Your Majesty. It would be beneficial for the queen and me to be present at supply pick-ups, as it has been for her to resume her duties and be at meetings with castle staff. Lancelot is right. It’s good for morale. I would guess it’s done damage that we weren’t doing it sooner.”