I had been to many places in my time among the Rangers and met all sorts of interesting individuals from the rulers of realms to the lowest of thieves. Life fell into a chaotic rhythm that suited me just fine. Then the stories started showing up and they started coming true.

  That's when something shifted in the back of my mind, and I started remembering things I had long forgotten. That’s also when the Hatter started showing up with a slightly less sporadic regularity to be cryptic at me about why I was really in the Enchanted Lands.

  I had already found a few of the missing pages and delivered them to the Hatter, which seemed to ease some of the tension in the air that accompanied his visit. I had long suspected the castle at Avalon held a few of the pages, but only the king knew where they were.

  The new king, a young man named Arthur, showed himself to be receptive to relinquishing his control of the pages upon his coronation. His ascent to the throne had not been a smooth one, but his claim remained undeniable, much to the chagrin of those who fought so hard to claim it was not.

  That contention made my job more interesting as in the two months I had spent at the castle, I found myself stepping in to prevent a handful of attempted poisonings, two stabbings, and one kidnapping. Not counting the attacks targeting supporters of the young king-to-be. I found myself needing to be more known within the castle than I would have preferred, but at least I managed to maintain some anonymity when it came to the court itself.

  “Are you to be leaving us soon, then?” Arthur asked when he caught me packing my things.

  Once I had made myself known to him, he insisted on clearing a space for me in the servants’ quarters near his personal chambers. It allowed me easier access to the hidden paths around the castle and gave me a space to make my preparations in private. Few servants used the private rooms, as the young king did not require them to do so, but many chose to use the passages.

  “I have a few things to take care of yet, but the threat will soon have passed and the time will come for me to return to my other duties,” I explained. “Don’t worry, I will be leaving you in good hands. Your guard has picked up quite a few new tricks during my stay here and I will ensure my protections remain.”

  “Well, it has been interesting having you around and I must say, I have come to enjoy your company, strange as you are. You know you are welcome to return at any time.”

  “So you have mentioned, and I have no doubt that I will, now that your kingdom is once again open to working with envoys from the Table. I also doubt this will be the first threat you will face in your reign, though hopefully the others are far less interesting.”

  “Indeed. Any chance you’ll tell me exactly what was going on here? I must say, I am still intrigued by this whole thing,” Arthur prodded.

  “Once we have it figured out, I promise I will return to tell you. In the meantime, I believe it is time for your coronation.”

  “I keep waiting for someone to wake me up and tell me this whole thing was a dream, but it hasn’t happened yet. I just hope I am ready to be the king my people need me to be.”

  “The fact you bear such great concern assures me you will be. Now, let's get going. It won’t make the best impression on your nobility if you are late,” I said, bumping my elbow against his.

  “Not the best impression, no, but perhaps an accurate one.” Arthur chuckled, leading the way out of the room. I tossed my bag over my shoulder, bringing my most important belongings with me out of habit more than necessity. I followed him through the servants’ halls until we reached the door that led to the room where he was to be prepared for the coronation. “If you continue down the left hallway, there is a door to the throne room proper. You can watch and wait there, if you wish, and no one will disturb you.”

  “Thank you, your majesty,” I replied.

  “You know it's bad luck to use that title before it's actually mine,” he protested.

  “What need do you have to fear bad luck, when you have me here to protect you?” I retorted.

  “You make a fair point, my lady. I will forgive you for this social misstep.”

  Many people were off-put by his jovial nature, but Arthur knew when and how to be serious. In the short time I had known him, he showed more knowledge and wisdom than most expected one from such a low station to bear. It was one of the many reasons I was glad to see him become king.

  I waited until I heard the familiar sound of his personal guard greeting him, then I went as directed toward the secret entrance to the throne room.

  Not that I needed his directions, of course. I found that and several other covert entrances to interesting rooms within a few days of my arrival. I had most of the layout memorized within the week. By the end of the first month, I could walk most of it with my eyes closed.

  I settled into the secluded alcove, hidden behind the tapestry woven from strands that allowed the room to be viewed from one side and not the other. The craftsmanship was quite remarkable, even to those who did not fully appreciate how it was made.

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  Within the throne room a crowd had gathered, a mix of servants and nobles and knights. Many had come to see the coronation of a new king. What normally would have been some grand event performed on a balcony before the whole kingdom, had been restricted somewhat in the light of all the previous assassination attempts. Arthur would not be stepping foot outside of the castle until he had been crowned king.

  Only then would he be safe from the stories threatening his life, and my job would finally be done. Then maybe, just maybe, I could get some answers. Questions danced around the back of my mind as the ceremony began, dimming some of the pristineness in the haze that usually came with thinking too hard about such things. There were two things I knew for sure. First, the pages were important. Second, I would remember why when I needed to.

  As Arthur began to recite his oath, my attention returned to the ceremony. The words themselves were a mix of the modern tongue and a few languages that had long since fallen from the common parlance. They had a power to them, a weight that would hold Arthur to them, binding him to the promises he made to his crown and his people.

  The magic rippled through the air, threads dancing around Arthur as he spoke them into being. It was mesmerizing, beautiful, and incredibly old.

  Then something sharp and acrid and out of place stabbed through the symphony of magic and into Arthur, sending a jolt of panic up my spine.

  I darted out from behind the tapestry, cutting through the crowd as the ripple started to spread, an echo of something dark and powerful and wicked appearing in a place it should not be. Soon others would become aware, and panic would spread.

  If I hadn’t been so focused on Arthur, the shockwave would have knocked me off my feet. As it was it knocked the wind from my lungs, staggering me as I raced to catch the king-to-be before he fell. The hilt of a sword had lodged itself in his chest, though where the rest of the blade was, I could not guess.

  Whatever happened hadn’t been natural, and whatever caused it had more power behind it than anything I had encountered, yet something about it felt…familiar.

  I shoved the thoughts to the back of my mind trying in vain to stop the bleeding, to do anything to save him.

  Arthur grabbed at my hand, drawing my attention to his face as he tried to say something. Holding onto his hand tightly, I leaned forward so he could whisper with what strength he had left.

  “There is a door…behind the throne. Follow the path and it will take you to the resting place of the pages. Go wh-with my blessing.” His voice may have been weak, but his words were clear as he met my gaze.

  “You may have been born a farm boy, but you died a king, and what a great king you would have been,” I said, not quite ready to leave him. “Your story will not be forgotten.”

  “Thank you, my friend…”

  The greatest king Camelot would never know died, pierced by a cursed blade.

  I made eye contact with his brother, who nodded at my unspoken question. Close with his brother, he would ensure Arthur’s wishes were carried out as I would get what I came here for.

  A wail ripped through the air as others began to realize what was going on. The confusion would be broken soon, and there was only one they would think to blame.

  I carefully laid the now-dead boy king to the ground, stepping back to allow his brother to step in as I ran around the back of the throne to find the doorway. I knew which door he spoke of because it was the one I had not been able to open until this moment.

  I passed through it with ease, covered in the king's blessing and his blood. I ran down the hall and up the stairs to a secret room only accessible to the king and those who bore his blessing. The magic in there was strong and old, built into the stones themselves. Where better to hide something so valuable than the most protected room in all the castle.

  Except, there was nothing there. The shelves and tables were empty, any traces of what they once held long removed. I could barely sense the echo of where the pages had once been.

  Whoever stole them had done a very good job of covering their tracks, and had to have done so recently. Searching for any sign of them, I caught a hint of something familiar.

  “They kept the vestments with the pages,” I muttered to myself. Then I bolted back down the staircase and into the space behind the throne. There I saw the priestly figures staring in wonder at the wall I had disappeared through. Only one seemed to be taking this opportunity to try to disappear into the crowd.

  He would not be getting away so easily.

  I took a deep breath, drawing magic around me to obscure my presence and darted through the door, sending some of the figures scattering. My eyes remained locked on the retreating figure as I wove through the panicking crowd. A servant bumped into the fleeing priest, giving me the opportunity I needed to grab the bag off his shoulder and disappear. I stepped sideways between two guards who paused for but a second to take stock of the situation, unwittingly giving me the window I needed to disappear from the room unseen.

  From there I fled through long forgotten tunnels, originally created to protect the royalty that had reigned long before the old king and barred to any who did not have the current king’s blessing.

  The dead king’s blessing.

  I shoved down my emotions until I was certain I was safe from pursuit, then allowed the tears to flow. My grief mingled with shock over the suddenness, disappointment in my inability to keep Arthur safe, and fear that something could be so powerful and so bold as to kill a king in the safety of his own stronghold.

  I allowed myself to be lost until I could regain control of my emotions once more, the pain smoothing down into something I could work through later.

  Then I turned my attention to the bag I had taken from the priest.

  Inside was a collection of priceless magical artifacts that had likely not been outside of the castle walls in generations, hidden amongst nondescript traveling clothes.

  There was also a large sack of gold and a note, thanking him for the prompt delivery of the item he had been charged with stealing. If the pages had been there, they were long gone, likely sold to whoever supplied the priest with the means of entering the vault.

  All that time, all that effort, had been for naught.

  I failed the king.

  I failed the Rangers.

  I failed myself.

  The Hatters words of warning echoed in my ears, bouncing off the thing I could not yet remember. Time was running out. Soon, the next phase of the game would begin.

  Shaking my head to clear the mess of fuzzy thoughts, I continued on searching for an exit point, which ended up taking longer than expected as Camelot went swiftly into total lockdown.

  The people of Camelot may not have fully supported Arthur in his rise to the throne, but they would stop at nothing to catch the monster who killed their king.