Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

ARTHUR

"We should head back to camp," Tristan said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "The others will be worried."

I grumbled, my brief good mood suddenly draining away. The thought of facing the others after my outburst earlier made my stomach churn. Not that I had anything to feel guilty about. They’d hurt me in a way I didn’t know I could be hurt. But still, what had I expected? For them to pledge their eternal love to me?

I huffed a laugh. What a stupid, stupid girl.

"Alright," I sighed, reluctantly untangling myself from my sitting position, even though I was rather comfortable.

I stood, stretching my stiff muscles, and began to gather my scattered clothing. Tristan watched me with a tender expression, and I couldn’t hide the blush that crept over me. The mark I'd left on his neck stood out starkly against his dark skin, appearing slightly silver, and already healed over. The others were going to see it immediately.

Good. Let them see.

I had nothing to be ashamed of. Tristan claimed me, then I claimed him, and not a single part of me regretted it. I could already feel Tristan inside of me, like a whisper at the back of my mind.

When I was dressed, Tristan stood with me and stretched his arms out, beckoning me towards him. I went without question, folding myself against his muscled chest. There was a buzzing of magic, then his wings unfurled from his back, looking so much like ghostly dragon wings.

“Hold on tight, little faerie,” he said as his arms tightened around me. We lifted from the mossy bed in the tree, and my stomach flipped. He carried me all the way back down to the forest floor and gently set us down.

Untangling myself from his arms, I peered up at him. “When this is all over, I’m going to need you to teach me how to conjure my own wings.”

He smiled. “I can’t wait to see what they look like.”

I suppose I never thought about that. What would they look like? Butterfly wings? Dragonfly? A bird or a bat? Faeries came in so many magical shapes and sizes that it could be anything.

As we neared the camp, I could make out the soft blue glow of Merlin's magical fire. The flames danced and swirled without producing smoke, casting flickering shadows across the sleeping forms of my knights.

Gawain sat with his back against a gnarled tree trunk, his steel-gray eyes alert as he kept watch. As we stepped into the clearing, his gaze immediately locked onto us. I saw the exact moment he noticed the mate marks on our necks. His whole body went rigid as his eyes widened in shock before quickly looking away.

Tristan squeezed my hand gently before releasing it. "Get some rest," he murmured. "I'll take watch with Gawain."

I nodded, suddenly exhausted. The events of the day—the emotional turmoil, the mating, the magic—had left me drained. I made my way to the tent Merlin had conjured earlier.

I curled up on my side, pulling a blanket woven from silken thread over me. It was impossibly soft, like being wrapped in a cloud, and smelled faintly of lavender and moonflowers. Despite my exhaustion, I found myself straining to hear the conversation outside.

The tent's walls did little to muffle the sounds of the forest or the low voices of Tristan and Gawain.

"What were you thinking? A mating bond? Now, of all times?"

Tristan's reply was calm, but I heard the underlying steel in his tone. "It wasn't a conscious decision. You know as well as I do that the mating urge isn't something we can control."

"But the timing?—"

"The timing is what it is," Tristan cut him off. His voice was more harsh than I’d ever heard him. “If you lot pulled your fucking heads out of your arses…”

Their voices faded as they moved further from the camp, likely to avoid waking the others. I strained to hear more, but the sounds of the forest soon overtook their conversation.

Slowly, my eyes grew heavier, and hot tears pricked at them. I didn’t let them spill over, though. I wouldn’t cry another fucking tear over men who didn’t want me.

Hours into the next day, I still hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone. Tristan had kissed me good morning by the fire, while every single of them studied us, probably scenting the mating bond between us.

We rode for hours in complete silence, and it was awkward, to say the least. There were so many things left unsaid, but I wasn’t going to be the first one to break it.

We crested a steep hill and came to an abrupt halt. Before us stretched a vast canyon, its depths plunging into shadow. The air grew thick with the scent of dirt, and I could hear distant groans echoing from far below, as if the earth itself was sighing.

Lancelot pulled his Elhorn up beside mine, scanning the horizon. "We've reached Giant Country," he said. “We'll have to go through it.”

I gazed out at the sprawling expanse before us, my breath catching in my throat. Massive boulders dotted the landscape like silent sentinels, their rough surfaces blanketed in a carpet of reddish dirt. Some stood taller than the highest towers of Camelot, their peaks disappearing into the low-hanging mist that clung to the canyon walls.

The ground beneath our Elhorns' hooves felt solid yet strangely alive, as if the very rocks were breathing. Occasional low rumbles reverberated through the earth, causing pebbles to skitter and dance at our feet.

“We can’t go around?” I asked, eyeing the vast canyon. “Or what about over? Can we fly across?”

As soon as I finished my question, a massive winged creature leapt out from the canyon wall and into view. Its wings flapped furiously, but before it could get far, a colossal stone hand emerged from the ground and snatched it in its grasp, pulling it down to the earth.

I stumbled backwards in shock as I realized the hand was connected to a body made entirely of stone. The once-still hillside now began to move as a living, breathing giant stood up from its crouched position and devoured the winged beast whole.

Lancelot gestured to the giant, " That's why we can't just fly over it. Giants may look slow and dumb, but they can actually move quite fast and appear anywhere at any moment. Luckily, giants aren't usually interested in fae meat, and their eyesight is notoriously bad for seeing things up close. So if we're fortunate enough, we'll only be seen as tiny insects wandering through their land."

That didn’t sound promising in the slightest, but who was I to argue?

We began our descent into Giant Country; the Elhorns picked their way carefully down the steep, rocky path. The further we went, the more the landscape seemed to dwarf us. Boulders the size of houses loomed on either side, their surfaces etched with strange, swirling patterns that almost looked like faces when viewed from certain angles.

The air grew thicker, heavy with the scent of dry earth and something else. A musky, ancient smell that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Every so often, a low rumble would echo through the canyon, causing pebbles to skitter down the path in front of us. I tried not to think about what might be causing those sounds.

I eyed the walls, and out of the corner of my vision, I spotted the unmistakable sleeping forms of giant bodies molded to the side of the canyon walls.

As we rode, Galahad and Gawain's voices drifted back to me, arguing about some encounter with an adolescent giant halfbreed several hundred years ago, and whose fault it was that they were nearly killed.

Galahad chuckled. “To be fair, you did call him a 'pebble-brained mountain of snot' right to his face."

Gawain scoffed, waving Galahad off. “I honestly thought he’d take it as a compliment.”

Galahad and Gawain's bickering continued as we wound our way deeper into Giant Country. Despite my lingering anger, I found myself listening with growing amusement.

"You're conveniently forgetting the part where you tried to seduce his sister," Galahad said, rolling his eyes. "A giantess three times your size, I might add."

Gawain grinned, unabashed. "I've always appreciated a woman of stature."

"She nearly crushed you when you suggested an 'intimate exploration of each other's geographical features ’," Galahad countered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It was a perfectly romantic offer!" Gawain protested. "How was I to know she'd take offense?"

Their Elhorns picked their way around boulders and dried husks of trees. It occurred to me they weren’t trying in the slightest to be quiet, so they must not be worried.

"Maybe because you followed it up by asking if she'd like to 'scale your personal mountain'?" Galahad retorted.

I couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped me. Both knights turned, surprised to hear any sound from me after hours of stony silence.

Gawain's face lit up with a mischievous grin that had my treacherous heart doing flips once again. He was too handsome for his own damn good. "Ah, so our queen does have a sense of humor after all! I was beginning to worry we'd lost you to eternal brooding."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't quite keep the smile from tugging at my lips. "I'm not brooding," I muttered unconvincingly. "I'm...contemplating."

"Contemplating what, exactly?" Galahad asked, his tone gentler than Gawain's teasing. "Which one of us is the most handsome and strapping?”

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm contemplating how a couple of centuries-old knights can still act so much like children."

Lancelot, who had been riding silently ahead, glanced back with a wry smile. "This isn’t even the worst of it. You should have seen them when they were rookie knights back at court. Ridiculous. I’m surprised they weren’t tossed out on their arses."

"Oi!" Gawain protested. "I'll have you know I've matured like a fine wine."

"More like a pungent cheese," Percival muttered from behind me, speaking for the first time in hours.

"At least cheese has some redeeming qualities." I shrugged.

Gawain clutched his chest in mock offense. "And here I thought we were developing a special bond, Arthur. Betrayal ."

The air grew thicker with every hour that passed. Every so often, a low rumble would reverberate through the canyon, causing pebbles to skitter down the slopes around us. Our Elhorns picked their way carefully along the winding path, their hooves barely making a sound on the ground.

I felt a familiar tugging sensation in my chest. It was the same magical pull I'd experienced before finding the previous riddles. My heart began to race as I scanned our surroundings, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

This was it. A clue to the last trial.

"Wait," I called out, trying to keep my voice as low as I could, bringing our group to a halt. "I think...I think there's something nearby. It feels like it did before." I met Merlin’s eyes as he searched the canyon walls. “Look for a box.”

The knights exchanged glances, unable to feel the disturbance for themselves. The ground suddenly rumbled, and the Elhorns stirred, backing up and shuffling on their hooves. Galahad whispered to his, petting its mane softly. The beast calmed, clearly able to understand every word Galahad said.

Suddenly, what I had thought was just a protruding section of the canyon wall began to move. A massive slab of rock, easily the size of a ship, slowly shifted and rolled to the side.

It wasn't just a boulder. It was a giant.

The colossal figure was curled on its side. Its chest rose and fell with deep, rumbling breaths that sent tremors through the earth. The giant's face was weathered and craggy, looking for all the world like it had been carved from the very mountain itself. Its eyes remained closed, lost in what I hoped was a deep sleep.

A glimmer caught my eye as I peered up over the giant. There, on a narrow ledge just above its shoulder, was a soft, pulsing light that emanated from a small wooden box.

“Holy gods…” I said breathlessly.

As we stood frozen, staring at the sleeping giant, a gust of wind swept through the canyon. It carried with it the scent of our Elhorns, and the giant's massive nostrils flared. My heart plummeted as its eyes slowly opened, revealing orbs the size of wagon wheels, milky white and unfocused.

The ground trembled as the giant pushed itself up, stones and boulders tumbling from its moss-covered form. It blinked slowly, confusion evident on its craggy features as it tried to locate the source of the unfamiliar scent.

"Shit," Gawain hissed, already drawing his ice to his fingers. "So much for sneaking past."

Lancelot's wings unfurled with a snap, golden light flaring to life like flames. "Arthur, get to that box. We'll keep it distracted."

Each of their wings unfurled in the blink of an eye. They moved as a single, cohesive unit, taking to the air as the giant let out a thunderous roar that shook the very foundations of the canyon.

Merlin raised his hands, golden magic coiling like a rope up his arm, ready to spring out like a whip. "Go!" he shouted at me. "Get to the box!"

I didn't need to be told twice. I urged my Elhorn forward, its hooves finding purchase on the uneven ground. As we neared the canyon wall, I steeled my nerves and leapt from the saddle. My fingers scrambled against the rough stone as I clung to the sheer face of the cliff, heart pounding.

The wall was nearly vertical, with only the barest hint of handholds. I began to climb, my muscles straining with each upward movement. The box pulsed with an otherworldly light above me, tantalizingly close yet so far away.

Loose pebbles skittered down as I hauled myself higher, showering my face with grit. The wind whipped around me, tugging at my clothes and threatening to tear me from my precarious perch. I gritted my teeth, focusing on each handhold.

A deafening roar shook the canyon, and I pressed myself flat against the wall as a massive shadow fell over me. The giant's enormous hand swept past, missing me by mere inches. The gust of wind in its wake nearly dislodged me, and I clung desperately to the rock face, my heart thundering.

I risked a glance down and immediately regretted it. The ground seemed impossibly far away. Swallowing hard, I forced myself to keep climbing.

But just as I thought I was going to actually reach the box, the giant crashed into the canyon wall with earth-shattering force. The entire canyon shuddered, and a thunderous crack split the air. Massive chunks of rock broke free, tumbling down in a deadly avalanche.

Time seemed to slow as I lost my grip, my body peeling away from the safety of the rock wall. For a heartbeat, I hung suspended, the world tilting sickeningly around me. Then gravity took hold, and I was falling.

Wind rushed past my ears as I plummeted through the air, my stomach lurching into my throat. The ground below rushed up to meet me with terrifying speed. Jagged rocks and thorny bushes blurred into a dizzying kaleidoscope of gray and green.

I heard my name being screamed from multiple directions, the anguished cries of my knights cutting through the howling wind. Their voices were filled with raw panic and desperation.

"ARTHUR!"