Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) by Danielle Martin Williams

curiosity.
    He raised his eyebrows, enjoying the suspense of it. “Well, after a few months, old King Lucan began causing trouble.” He pulled me by my elbow as he crossed the small stream, lithely placing his feet on the stones and guiding me to do the same.
    “He was testing Arthur , so of course we had to face him. Now, I would have just gone to find Lucan on the field to take him there, sword to sword.” He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, eyes off in a different world for a brief moment before turning his gaze back to me, smiling slightly. “But we were outnumbered and Arthur was smart, a lot smarter than me. He rode right up to Lucan’s castle, and in God’s truth it was the grandest place I had seen, just like the palaces in Rome.” He spread his arms wide, emeralds twinkling as he spoke. “And that damned fool of a king left it unguarded, thinking we meant to meet him on the battlefield. Arthur stormed in as though he had been crowned High King since birth, and Bedivere—as cunning as he is—played right along demanding that they all cook a feast for the Battle Duke of Britain! The measly servants all scrambled, ashamed of their impertinence, and while Artos and Bed kept them distracted with demands, the rest of our guard took control of all the gates around his massive wall.”
    I couldn’t help but smile at the excitement that rose in his voice as he spoke. He stopped, quickly inspecting our surroundings before continuing our path uphill.
    “Then what?” I prompted impatiently. 
    He smiled. “Well, the next morn Lucan arrived, spitting mad. He bellowed all day and night for Arthur to open the gates, but Arthur would not come, infuriating him all the more. Imagine him being locked out of his own castle!” He put a hand up to his jaw, holding it for a moment while he chuckled at the memory.
    “By the following morning , Lucan was ready to have each of our heads upon sticks, so finally Artos went to meet him. He stood high upon the turret as it were his own castle, yawned as though he were nothing but bored, and innocently asked why he had been disrupting us all night.” His wicked smile spread wider across his face. “Lucan was enraged, but Arthur was not close to being done. After a heated argument, he proceeded to set fire to piles hay, telling Lucan it is his castle that he is being burned. You should have heard the things Lucan said.” He grinned, laughing to himself again, liking it far more than he should. “And he was so afraid of his precious palace being destroyed that he finally heeded to Arthur’s demands, giving us a hundred of his men for our war band and finally swore his fealty to Arthur, all without a single drop of blood.”
    The inner edges of his eyebrows went upward in an expression I had not seen before , and for the first time his whole face appeared innocent. “He was only fifteen Katarina, fifteen years old and he tricked an old king who thought himself higher than the rest.” He shook his head in awe. “It was a great game,” he said with a laugh, “and Arthur played it well. He is going to be the greatest king there ever was.” The smile stayed big, and I could see how pure his love for Arthur was, and in this moment I knew I had it right the first time: there was no way he could be wicked.
     
    The trudge up the hillside was difficult. Most parts were steep and rocky, and for a long time I remained quiet as I focused on careful footing and tried to ignore the throbbing ache in my leg muscles as we hiked on.
    “Well, there it is,” he said huskily, pointing ahead as we reached the top. “Tintigal.”
    I stared down the hillside to a small rundown village that sat in front of a large domineering castle surrounded by large rocky cliffs that provided the only protection against the fearless ocean that angrily crashed against its barrier.
    His lips twisted to the side in disapproval, as he looked me up and down. “I will have to find a dress for you, or else