Bread & Circuses: The Einherjar Games Book 1 by Eliza Lainn

Author:Eliza Lainn [Lainn, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Specter & Shade
Published: 2020-05-22T05:00:00+00:00

15

The Knight of the Lion

Agnes

Agnes pressed a finger against the black ring inside her left wrist. A dozen names floated through her mind, Lancelot at the forefront. His name slipped to the tip of her tongue, but she pressed her lips together.

Arthur had insisted she summon Lancelot last. Her other knights had skills and abilities that made them suitable for different situations—Arthur had made her memorize all of them the day after she took on their mantle—but with Lancelot, he’d only told her that she should summon him last. No reason, no explanation.

She wondered if it had something to do with Guinevere. Betrayals cut deep, and more than once, Agnes wondered if the infamous lovers’ betrayal still haunted Arthur. He never talked about his past, seldom spoke of his knights outside of their role in the Game, and barely tolerated her questions about Avalon, the realm he intended to send his knights after rescuing them from Fólkvangr.

Of course it’s because of her. He loved her, married her. He probably won’t talk about her because he still does.

She’d tried. And with different flavors, too. Petulantly, annoyingly, slyly—you name it, she’d attempted to wheedle any information she could out of Arthur.

That man had the mind of a steel trap.

Focus, idiot. A name—you need a name.

She cycled through the other eleven. Gawain’s skill meant he needed to be summoned during the day. Lamorak and Lionel were out too—their skills were better suited against elemental foes. Not Galahad, or Kay, or Bedivere. She needed…

“Yvain,” she whispered, pressing her finger harder against the symbol of her mantle.

Fire flared under her touch. She felt it spread through her limbs, filling her with power, with energy. Even as her head swayed and her sense of balance pitched—as if she’d stood up too quickly—she could feel strength flooding through her.

The concentrated energy of a portion of her soul being released.

With a flash of light, Sir Yvain appeared. He stood in front of her, armored and armed, with his helmet tucked into the crook of his elbow. Long, luscious blond hair cascaded down his shoulders in waves, the ends barely brushing against the emblem of a roaring lion emblazoned on his chest. He was the pinnacle of physical strength: broad shoulders, strong jawline, rippling muscles under his armor.

His hazel eyes snapped to hers, then glanced around the room. Bullets continued to pierce through the metal walls, some of them slamming against his broad chest and pinging harmlessly to the floor.

This was her first time seeing one of them. Sure, she’d chatted a handful of times with them as a group, courtesy of Martha’s abilities as a medium, but hearing their strong voices hadn’t prepared her for…for this.

She’d thought Arthur had been unique in the power he commanded simply by being, like the way you can sense a lion’s dynamic force even as they lounge in the sun. That the innate power exuding from him had been solely because he was Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, leader of the Knights of the Round Table.

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