Laurel knew what Jamison was going to ask, and wanted to stop him, to tell David that he should refuse – that he didn’t have to do this; that being around her had hurt him enough already. He didn’t need to be a soldier for Avalon, too.

“David, with the name of kings,” Jamison said formally, “it is time to discover if you are the hero Laurel has always thought you to be. Will you join us in defending Avalon?”

Laurel looked at Chelsea but knew instantly that there would be no help from her. Her gaze was fixed on the sword and she wore an expression not unlike jealousy, as though she wished there were a similar role she could play.

Then David turned to look at Tamani, and Laurel found herself hoping Tamani would say something, anything, that could dissuade David from accepting Jamison’s offer. But a strange sort of silent conversation seemed to pass between them, and then Tamani, too, donned a look of wistful envy.

When David turned at last to Laurel, she closed her eyes, conflicted. Did David realise what Jamison was asking? The amount of blood he would be required to spill? But this was Avalon. Her homeland, whether she could remember it or not. So many lives at stake.

It wasn’t a decision she could make for him.

She stood very still, then opened her eyes, meeting David’s. She did not move, didn’t even blink. But she saw his decision written on his face.

“Yes,” he said, looking straight at her.

Jamison’s outstretched arm was all the invitation David needed. He walked through the marble archway and looked down at the sword. He touched the pommel, tentatively at first, as though expecting it to shock him. When nothing happened he stepped forward, bracing his feet on either side of the gleaming weapon.

Then, wrapping his fingers around the hilt, David pulled the sword from the stone.

The air around them seemed to electrify as the crystalline blade emerged from the slab, and Laurel took an involuntary step backward as torrents of energy washed through the room. She felt Tamani’s chest against her shoulders and his hands at her elbows, steadying her, and she was glad for the support. David stood motionless, staring down at the sword in his hand with a probing expression.

Jamison gasped and they all turned to see the smile spreading across his face. “I am not ashamed to admit I wasn’t entirely certain that was going to work. After all these years, it’s a bit of a dream come true for me.” Then he cleared his throat and sobered. “We must work fast. The Queen will be here at any moment. Tamani, you’ll want something as well.” Jamison gestured invitingly toward a small selection of shimmering armaments hanging from the eastern wall of the chamber where the now-empty block of granite sat.

“They’re beautiful,” Tamani breathed, so quietly Laurel doubted anyone else had heard. He walked over and hefted a long, double-headed spear; the blades on each end looked razor sharp. It didn’t give Laurel quite the same squicky feeling as she got when she was around guns, but it was close. Tamani turned and balanced the spear in his right hand, lifting it up and down a few times before nodding. “This is a good weight for me,” he said, his voice serious. It was his sentry voice; a sign that he was officially in battle mode. And that frightened Laurel as much as the spear.

“Sir?”

Everyone turned to face David. Despite the unearthly power exuding from him, he looked rather lost. “Yes, David?” Jamison said.

“I don’t . . . I don’t understand. What do I do?”

Jamison stepped forward to place a hand on David’s shoulder, but it slid away. David gave the hand a puzzled look, and Jamison pulled it back, smiling as though he’d just discovered something wonderful. “Believe me when I say it is as simple as swinging the sword. It will guide you, and make up for any and all of your deficiencies. But like Arthur before you, you must have the courage to step forward and the strength to remain standing.” He paused. “I am asking you to do a hard thing, but it is well within your ability. I promise you that. Now come,” he said, addressing them all again. “We should be going.”

No one spoke as they traversed the upper chambers, descended to the foyer, and passed onto the palace grounds. It was Jamison who finally broke the silence as they reached the white marble archway at the head of the trail.

“If we go back the way we came,” Jamison said, turning to look back at the group, the wind carrying his voice to them, “perhaps we can avoid the Queen altogether.”

“And why would you want to do that, Jamison?” Queen Marion’s voice was soft and simmering as she stepped up to the white archway. Behind her, Laurel could see a long line of green-garbed sentries, their weapons shouldered, mingled with her Am Fear-faire.

Jamison drew up short, his confident posture slipping for the briefest moment before he recomposed himself. “Because you are going to be very angry with me,” Jamison said simply. “And we don’t have time for that.”

Laurel could see the question on the Queen’s lips, but she didn’t ask it, searching each member of the party with her eyes instead. When her gaze fell upon Excalibur her expression betrayed shock. “Jamison, what have you done?”

“What the Silent Ones knew you would not,” Jamison said evenly.

“You must realise the consequences of this.”

“I am aware of what they have been in the past, but I also know that the past need not dictate the present.”

“You will be the death of Avalon one day, Jamison.”