Chapter 3: Chapter Two

Felicity stared after Prince Arthur—no, Gavin—as he strode confidently into the arena, the magnificent eagle perched on his arm. The bird was as striking as its master, its sharp eyes scanning the crowd with an air of regal authority. But it wasn't the eagle that held her attention—it was him. She'd had no idea what to expect when she finally laid eyes on the prince, and her first glimpse of him had left her completely stunned.

Though he bore some resemblance to his father, Gavin was far more handsome than the late king had ever been. His shoulder-length, wavy hair—an earthy mix of blond and brown—matched the shade she faintly remembered from her childhood, the same hue she'd seen on the king before his untimely death. But that was where the similarities ended. Gavin carried himself with a confidence and charisma that was entirely his own, a magnetic presence that even the crowd seemed to feel as they cheered him on.

Memories flickered in her mind, pulling her back to a time long ago. She had been a young girl, barely five, with pigtails bouncing as she played in Merlin's study. She could still picture the day the queen arrived in secret, her face pale with desperation as she clutched her young son.

Felicity hadn't understood much of the hushed conversation between the queen and her grandfather, but she remembered the odd-colored smoke. It had swirled through the room, wrapping around the queen and the boy before they vanished, as if swallowed by the air itself. Her grandfather, Merlin, had smiled with satisfaction and gone about his business as though nothing extraordinary had just occurred.

It wasn't until her nineteenth year that her grandfather finally explained the truth... and with it, her task. Felicity was now responsibility to bring the prince back.

The weight of that revelation had shocked her. Although she was borned into the clan of fairies on her mother's side, she was first and foremost, a magician's granddaughter.

She could still remember the way Merlin had trained her afterward, pushing her to prepare for the journey ahead. He had taught her how to ride with grace, how to wield a sword with precision, and even how to present herself with the elegance expected of a lady.

Although not fully trained as a fairy, Merlin deemed her ready and handed her a wand—a tool for a novice, he'd called it—and performed the same spell he'd used years ago. That strange, swirling smoke had surrounded her, carrying her across time and space to the prince's new land.

It had taken months to find him. The magic wand had been useful sparingly, but locating Gavin in a world so foreign had been a grueling task. And when she finally found him, she couldn't believe her eyes. He wasn't hiding in obscurity or preparing to reclaim his throne. No, he was here, in this strange tournament, dressed as a knight and performing for crowds.

Still, in a way, it made sense. The skills he'd honed in this tournament—riding, sword fighting, leadership—were the very things he would need when they returned to Camelot. It wasn't the life she'd imagined for him, but perhaps it was exactly what he needed to be ready for the journey ahead.

Her grandfather had warned her that Prince Gavin might need instructions on how to ride, how to use a sword, and other such fighting methods. It pleased her to know that she wouldn't have to teach him everything. However, one thing she did need to instruct him on was how to deflate that arrogant head of his. She rolled her eyes. He was such a poor loser!

She watched for a few moments longer as he had the eagle perform tricks for the audience. Smiling, she nodded. Gavin was built like a king. There was an air of quality about him that nobody else noticed. But she could. Now she must tutor him on how to act like a king, especially if he needed to save Camelot.

A bead of moisture slid down her forehead. It was incredibly humid in this building. Grumbling, she turned and hurried back to the room where she'd left the Blue Knight asleep. She was able to use her magic wand to make him sleep. She chose this particular knight, mainly because she'd be able to fit into his armor easier than any of the other men.

Thankfully, nobody stopped her and she entered the room and quickly closed the door. The man was still asleep on the cot. She hurried to the spot behind the bed where she'd hid her wand, and quickly motioned it over her body. In an instant, she was back to wearing the ankle-length baby blue gown that buttoned down the front, with her matching dainty shoes. Instead of using the wand to get the other man dressed, she left him alone, wearing his under garments.

She peeked in the mirror. Frowning at her untidy reflection, she puffed her hair so it wouldn't look so limp. Unfortunately, that particular helmet took away all the life that she'd originally had in her hair.

Before leaving the room, she waved the wand over the sleeping man to awaken him. She pushed the wand back up into her long sleeve where she'd previously fashioned a pocket to keep it hidden. As she wandered back to the large room, she studied the other people standing around. They seemed not to notice her now that she'd changed clothes.

A thunderous applause erupted from the stadium seats, the sound echoing through the entryway where she stood, half-hidden in the shadows. Felicity peeked out, careful not to be seen. Prince Gavin stood in the center of the arena, waving to the crowd with a smile that radiated confidence. He bowed deeply, eliciting another wave of cheers, before turning and hurrying toward the staging area.

As he passed her, his focus elsewhere, she pressed back against the wall, unnoticed. He moved with practiced ease, handing the majestic eagle to an attendant, who carefully coaxed the bird into its cage. With fluid motions, Gavin tugged off his leather gloves, his fingers threading through his wavy hair as he swept the damp locks away from his face. Someone handed him a towel, and he pressed it against his face and neck, the slight sheen of sweat catching in the dim light of the room.

Felicity watched as his gaze swept the room, searching for someone. When it stopped on her, his eyes widened.

"Felicity?"

"Yes, it is I." She swept her hand over her dress. "This is how I usually dress."

He arched an eyebrow. "Usually?"

She nodded. "When I'm not fighting, of course."

He rolled his eyes. "But of course, why would you wear a dress while fighting?"

The sarcasm in his voice was evident. She sighed. She must find a way to convince him. "Gavin, is there some place we can talk in private? There are too many people here."

"I'm at work, or haven't you noticed?"

He was trying to make her feel inferior, she could tell. Being from a different realm made her useless as it was, but she wouldn't allow him to make her weak in any way. "Then after you are finished? We really need to talk."

"Yes, we do. I want to know why you said that about my father."

"And I will explain myself, but not here. Not with so many people around."

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, his piercing gaze unnervingly intent. It was as though he were trying to peer into her mind, searching for answers she wasn't ready to share. The weight of his scrutiny sent a shiver down her spine, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if he truly could read her thoughts.

Her grandfather's face flashed in her mind, his voice echoing with a mix of frustration and determination from years ago. Merlin had spent countless hours trying to perfect his mind-reading abilities, certain it was the key to understanding the hearts of others. But his efforts had always ended in amusing failure, his attempts either fizzling out or producing unexpected—and sometimes comical—results.

Still, the idea of such power in someone else's hands, even partially realized, was unsettling.

Felicity swallowed hard, her nerves fraying under Gavin's unrelenting gaze. Did he see through her already? Did he remember something? Or was his confusion simply masking suspicion?

"Tell me one thing first," Gavin finally said.

"What is that?"

"Were you friends with my mother?"

Felicity shook her head. "No. Your family and my family were not of the same class. But she did speak to me once. She was so very kind."

Blowing out a gush of air from his lips, he scrubbed his hands through his hair. "See, there you go again, saying something that doesn't make any sense to me. Where are you from, anyway?"

She tried to stay positive and not get upset with his quick temper. After all, he hadn't regained his memory yet. Hopefully, that would happen soon. Grandfather Merlin told her it might take a little while. However long that was, she'd like to know.

"I am from a distant land." She really didn't know how to answer his question without giving everything away.

"Yeah, I've figured that out, already. Are you from England?"

Finally, a word she recognized. "Indeed, you are correct."

"Okay, so what are you doing here? And why pray tell, are you speaking as if you know my mother, and especially a father I have never met?"

She wasn't impressed with his sarcasm, but she supposed he used that as a shield to hide his true feelings. "We shall speak of this later." She motioned her hand toward the stadium. "Your admirers are calling for you. Go and entertain them."

Blinking as if in a daze, he shook his head and glanced over his shoulder toward the arena. They were setting up for the next tournament.

He looked back and her. "No. I'm not in this one. We have time to talk for a moment." He pointed to a small area in the corner of the room. A few of the other knights were there conversing. "Let's go over there and talk."

"Oh, no. That will not do."

He arched an eyebrow. "Why won't it do?"

"Because we will have to be alone. I cannot speak with you any other way, especially about the questions you are seeking."

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, the silence between them growing heavier with each passing moment. Then, slowly, the tension in his face melted away. The corners of his lips curved upward into a smile, but this expression was unlike anything she'd seen from him before. There was something about it—something darker, more deliberate. Even his blue-gray eyes seemed to deepen, shadowed with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

"You want to be alone with me?" His voice dropped, silky and low, carrying a seductive edge that caught her off guard.

He stepped closer, closing the space between them with an ease that made her nerves prickle. Before she could respond, he reached out and took a strand of her auburn hair, letting it slide between his thumb and finger with infuriating leisure.

"I think I can arrange that," he murmured, his tone as smooth as velvet. His gaze held hers, unwavering and charged with a quiet challenge.

"Tell me, Felicity," he continued, his lips quirking into a half-smirk, "was all of this just your way of flirting with me?" He gave a casual shrug, as though her answer was already inconsequential. "Really, all you had to do was ask me out."

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and teasing, yet laced with something she couldn't quite place. Felicity's pulse raced, a mixture of indignation and surprise flooding her senses. This wasn't the prince she had imagined—certainly not the one she had trained to bring back. But here he was, completely disarming her with his audacity.

Stunned at the sudden chance of his temperament, her heart beat wilding and her mouth grew dry. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Impossible! If he knew her true station in life, he would not be so bold with his words.

She scowled and pushed his hand away. "I know not why you have assumed such a thing, but I assure you, it's wrong."

He chuckled. "Really? Are you sure? Your mouth tells me one thing, but I can see it in your eyes. You want me."

"Indeed, I do, but not for the purpose in which your mind has consumed. So please, I beg you, remove that notion immediately."

Raking his fingers through his hair, he shook his head. "People nowadays don't talk that way, but strangely enough, I understand you."

She sighed. "Splendid. At least I know we will be able to communicate well once we are away from this place."

Slowly, his smile faded. "Okay, so now you're confusing me. If you don't want to go out with me, why are you talking like that's the very thing we're going to do?"

Silently, she grumbled. She suspected it would be hard to tell him what she needed to say, but once again, the timing was all wrong. "Please, Gavin. Just believe my word. Although I do want you, it's not as you have imagined. I shall explain later, once your entertaining in the arena has been completed."

He arched an eyebrow. "My job. If you haven't guessed yet, this is my job."

"Aye, if you say so."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

She pointed to the far side of the room. "I shall wait for you over there."

"Fine."

He turned away from her and moved toward the opening into the arena. Someone handed his helmet to him, and even helped him put it on. It pleased her to know that he thought of riding and sword fighting as his job. Once they returned to Camelot, doing those very things—and more—would most certainly be his job. Running a kingdom was very difficult. It made her heart light to know he'd be much better than his father.

With her help, she'd assist him in caring for others more than himself. That's exactly what Camelot needed. Since King Marten died, his brother had taken over as king. Hector was nearly as self-absorbed as his older brother, and nearly as greedy. Although King Hector had repaired the damage his brother had made with the other kingdoms, he hadn't fixed the problem they were having within Camelot.

Gavin had a larger task ahead, and it was up to Felicity to assist him. She had doubts that resurfaced from time to time, but if Grandfather Merlin believed in her, she must do the same.

A man stumbled past her, heading toward Gavin. This was the man whose armor she had taken. The Blue Knight was now fully clothed in his armor as he carried his helmet and boots. The man reached Gavin's side. The Blue Knight's arm waved frantically as he spoke, and then pointed to his feet.

"Can you tell me," the knight began in a panicked voice, "why my boots don't fit?"

Confusion filled Gavin's expression. "What are you talking about?"

"Earlier today, I could get into my boots, but after I woke up on a cot and tried to get dressed, I realized my feet are too big."

Gavin shook his head. "Lance, you're not making any sense. That is your armor. Everything should fit."

"But it doesn't." He lifted one leg. "I'm at least a size bigger."

Felicity held her breath, her thoughts swirling in disbelief. Had she done something to him when she put him to sleep? She hadn't fully mastered the use of her wand, and though her spells usually worked as intended, there was always room for... unintended side effects. Had her magic somehow altered him? Changed his demeanor?

Her pulse quickened as Gavin's piercing glare shot in her direction. The intensity of his gaze made her swallow hard, a lump of fear forming in her throat. He couldn't possibly know who she was—he didn't even remember his own identity, let alone hers. So why did he look at her as though he did? As though he could see straight through her?

She averted her gaze, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Moments later, all the knights—except the Blue Knight—filed into the arena for the final segment of the evening's entertainment. The crowd roared in excitement as they entered, but Felicity barely noticed. Her attention was fixed on only one figure.

Gavin Beaumont.

Even now, as he strode into the arena with effortless confidence, he commanded her full attention. No man she had ever seen could compare to him—not in rugged good looks, not in strength, not in sheer presence. Her eyes lingered on the sharp lines of his jaw, the natural grace in his movements.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to focus. That little flutter in her chest, that breathless feeling that warmed her cheeks and made her smile uncontrollably—it was dangerous. Foreign, yes, but dangerous nonetheless. She wasn't foolish enough to believe there could ever be more between them. Gavin was destined to become king, and she? She was merely a fairy with a touch of magic, a messenger sent to bring him back to Camelot.

Her purpose here was singular and clear—to teach him what he needed to know, to prepare him for the path ahead, and to return him to his rightful place. Nothing more. She couldn't allow her own silly, girlish fantasies to cloud her judgment or distract her from her duty. Gavin must see her only as his instructor. Nothing more, nothing less.

Still, it might prove more difficult than she'd anticipated to get him alone. The prince's schedule was packed with performances and social obligations, and she had little time to waste. She would need to act quickly—and decisively.

Felicity straightened her shoulders, the grin still tugging at her lips. One way or another, she would get Gavin alone—and then, she would do what she must to bring him back to his destiny.