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“I can promise you fast executions if you do,” Brados says, his face impassive. “Which is more than we’d have received if the roles were reversed.”

“We’ve come to reach an agreement,” Talan says.

“An agreement?” Brados snarls. “You tormented one of my oldest friends until he slit his own throat.”

“I had my reasons,” Talan says quietly, an edge in his voice.

I meet Nivene’s eyes. “Nivene, you know the truth. Prince Talan saved this land from a deadly plague. He was trying to stop the civilian deaths in England, and he just overthrew his father to prevent the murder of thousands. Auberon was going to light them all on fire with his dragons.”

Nivene looks at me, her expression impassive. “The prince definitely knew to position himself in a good spot to become the ruler, and it makes sense that he doesn’t want to rule a land of dead or starving people, but that doesn’t undo the past. And most of all, it doesn’t concern us, Nia. This is a matter of Brocéliende, not Camelot. It’s not my place to tell the residents of this country who should rule them.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“As an advisor. Nothing more.”

“We’re done being squashed by the House of Morgan and their gold-soaked nobles,” Brados says, “while we starve. We’re taking power for ourselves.”

At my side, Malleus draws his sword. “Just try.”

Talan raises his hand. “Enough. Put your sword away. You look like an idiot.”

Malleus flushes and sheathes his sword.

Talan meets Brados’s stare. “You’re right. This country shouldn’t be ruled by the House of Morgan. In fact, the House of Morgan has never ruled this kingdom.”

Brados stares at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Auberon lied. The throne was never his. Mordred is not his father. He descends from Merlin.”

“Do we really need to worry about old history?” Aedan blusters.

“It’s true,” I say. “Mordred, son of Morgan, is still alive on Avalon.Iam his daughter. He told me this himself.”

“You’re lying,” Brados says coldly.

“Ask your advisor,” I say calmly. “She saw Mordred only yesterday. They got along very well, actually.”

Brados turns to Nivene in shock. She purses her lips and gives him a tiny nod.

“Well, then this makes it even clearer,” Brados says. “We’re not going to let Mordred, whom none of us has seen in over a millennium, rule over us. And we definitely won’t let a family of liars rule, either.”

“Neither will we,” Aedan says, his oily voice sharp and dangerous. “Clearly, the strongest noble family should take charge. Farmers and peasants don’t know how to run a kingdom.”

“The most powerful noble family?” Malleus raises his voice. “And who would that be? My father holds the largest army?—”

“Your father has the plague, boy,” Aedan spits.

“He’s already getting better?—”

“Have you lost your minds?” Brados shouts. “We won’t let any noble rule this kingdom. That’s the point.”

Talan holds up his hand again, and a hush falls over the crowd. “Changes should be made. A single family can’t rule Brocéliende. We need to turn it into a republic, with a voice for the common people. Like the humans do. At least, some of them.”

“What would a turnip farmer know about running a kingdom?” Ker-Ys shouts.

Brados’s face darkens. “This is a waste of time. We can resolve this on the battlefield.”

“He has a legion of dragons,” I shout in frustration. “He’s only talking to you so people won’t die.”