England
WHEN THE MOON rose into the star speckled sky, I was completely fed up with nature.
It was a relief to get up, to shake feeling into my limbs, to make noise.
"We move in five minutes," I announced, trying to project my voice to the back of our rather large crowd.
Merlin seemed to catch my point, and most likely sent my instructions into the back. I was grateful, and I sent him a smile, before returning to strategizing with my knights.
Arthur joined us for what he claimed to be "tactical advantage," but I knew it was more to be a comforting presence at my back, his hand brushing mine whenever Lancelot brought up a flaw in the plan.
I couldn't even describe the gratitude I held in my heart for the man standing next to me. Butterflies were flying wild, but I needed to act natural, because I couldn't have my knights knowing what I sap I was.
They most likely were already aware, but at this point I didn't care.
"We need to attack from the north," Kay pointed towards a place where the trees grew out a little farther than the other sides of the clearing.
I nodded, marking the place with a small dash of ink, to make sure we could pass the message on. We would have to travel in a much thinner group than before, and my knights and I decided to call the battalion to the fight after it had been initiated.
The wind whistled in the wind, twisting in between the trees surrounding us. As we prepared to begin moving towards the fight, we remembered our scouts.
Morgan and Lynette were no doubt half asleep from staying on watch all night, but they were no doubt going to be crucial to our overtaking of our enemies.
Percival took the hint and went to get them, his retreating shadow giving me goosebumps up and down my arms.
I turned to Lancelot, who was standing beside Guinevere, the two of them discussing strategy beyond what I was capable of. The map was dripping in fresh ink as they each made little marks that meant something to them, going over the finer points of the plan.
When Percival returned with the two women I had sent him to find, we were ready to attack; the map was rolled into its case, and Lancelot, Guinevere, Kay, and I had each drawn our weapons.
Every candle was blown out.
From here, everything we did- every sin we committed- would only be brought to light by the delicate moon rays emitting from the sky.
Lancelot winced when he stepped on a stick, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I really needed to teach everyone how to step around sticks, and not on top of them.
When we passed the hut, I released a breath I didn't know I had been holding. It seemed that even though the crossbow was badly aimed, I was still worried about being hit this far away from the intended target.
Morgan and Lynette led the way as they were the last two to have seen the positions of the Saxon army.
It was less of a walk than I had been expecting, especially when I realized how conveniently placed the fire was. The smoke didn't go high enough in the sky for us to be able to spot it from the clearing with the hut, and yet as we drew closer, I couldn't believe I had almost fallen for the trap with the hut.
When we came to the tree line, a sudden flashback overtook me, reminding me of my time as a squire.
The stones wouldn't spark. The fire wouldn't start.
YOU ARE READING
She Who is King
Historical Fiction"May God have mercy on my enemies. Because I won't." ~ England. 18 year old Lyra disguises herself daily to pass as a boy to fulfill her duties as Sir Grummore's squire. Content where she is, Lyra doesn't have anything to wish for. When Grummore go...
